Allen Pierce stretched out his tired joints, contemplating the conclusion of another monotonous day. It was yet unknown to him that his life was about to be thrown into turmoil. Nor, that he was soon to encounter the legendary villain, who would change the course of his destiny forever.
An hour’s walk from the market square, the amount of people Allen met dwindled as he reached the outskirts of Ineset. Here, he and his grandfather lived in peace farming and making the trek into the town to sell their wares each week.
The remote dirt path lit solely by a pale full moon there was little to see but the dark outline of the fields as they rippled in the soft breeze. His heavy footsteps and the faint chirp of crickets the only sounds disrupting the eerie stillness of the night. Until, to his astonishment, a figure martialized out of the darkness before him. Cautiously slowing to a stop, Allen instinctively felt unsettled by their sudden presence. Concealed, as a passing cloud snuffed out the light of the moon, they were barely distinguishable from the night.
Wrapped in a black cloak figure, they remained unnaturally motionless where they stood. Their attention held by something far within the distance, the figure did not acknowledge Allen despite their relatively close proximity to one another. Captivated, he saw the person’s gleaming amber eyes, as the wind rustled the hood of their cloak. Scanning the fields, their cold and calculating gaze unnerved him. Taking a step back, a twig snapped under foot. The noise, seemingly spooking the figure. Allen did not catch another glimpse of the person, before they melted like a phantom into the darkness once more.
Taking a few moments to recover from the surprise encounter. Allen soon felt gripped by a strange foreboding in the pit of his stomach. The image of their cruel eyes still fresh in his mind, Allen bolted from his spot on the road. Mere minutes from his grandfather’s farm, the pace of his steps rapidly quickened along with his heart. Abandoning the path, Allen cut across an adjoining field, trampling the tall wheat in his haste, he began to run.
Arriving at their cottage. Allen found, to his alarm, that the sturdy wooden door had been torn from its hinges. Broken and splintered, it had been discarded on the ground beside the open threshold.
“Gramps?” he said, fear obviously shaking his voice. Grappling with the rising dread and terror inside of him, Allen hesitated in the doorway. Until, finally frustration at his cowardice and overwhelming concern for his grandfather caused him to fling himself into the little dwelling. Calling out repeatedly, Allen felt hope for his grandfather’s safety diminishing with each cry, allowing for desperation to gradually set in.
Furniture overturned, there were monstrous frenzied slashes on the walls and ceiling. Stepping over the debris heedlessly, Allen disregarded the shards of glass and wood that cracked wretchedly under him. Making his way across them, near the stone-cold hearth, were sickening smears of blood, and Allen’s grandfather lying amongst them.
***
This memory had plagued Allen. It had been a week since, but the image of his grandfather’s dead body would be something that would scar him for the rest of his life.
Allen had been hunting down the creature, which had left their home in shambles and killed his grandfather in the process. However, an amateur hunter, he was only met with one back lead after another. Defeated and exhausted, his road to vengeance had now led him here. Slumped over a bar staring vacantly into the bottom of his third draft of ale.
Devoid of hunger or appetite due to his grief, Allen had acquired the look of a man driven mad by the pursuit of revenge. Allen bitterly downed the rest of his drink. Sitting in the desolate bar in the early evening, there was hardly anyone to witness his failure aside from a few drunken regulars and the barkeep.
Resigned in his fate to spend his foreseeable future in pursuit of what seemed to be a myth at this point, he tossed the last of his coins on the counter. Beckoning for another round from the man behind the bar, he had barely taken a sip of his last draft; when the door violently burst open.
Announced by a startling clang, that even awoke the man passed out next to him. Allen turned to see a burly vendor clamoring to lock the door behind him. “Oye, what do you think you’re doing making all that racket in my pub!” the bartender hollered. Panting the large man struggled to speak fast enough. “There’s a werewolf.” He wheezed, “In Lunzar Square.”
Allen rose from the wooden bar stool at the back of the pub. “Werewolf.” He repeated, as if the word fit perfectly into the puzzle in his dazed mind. Although, the possibility of such a creature being the culprit behind his grandfather’s death had crossed his mind prior. Allen had eliminated them from his list of suspects, on account of them being pretty self-aware. Not uncommon around the outskirts of Ineset, they mostly kept to themselves and rarely showed aggression towards humans. Only socializing within their packs, werewolves typically shied away from the noise and crowds in the city. It was unheard of that one should appear here now, much less in broad daylight. Resolute that this must be the answer he was searching for, Allen walked purposefully toward the door. Blocked by the beefy vendor as he threw his body across the entry “Don’t go out there, Son.” He said, the whiskers of his thick moustache bristling. “Let me through.” Allen dema
Not moving an inch as it grazed past their head, they analyzed him coldly. The bullet grazing the hood of their cloak. It had fallen away to reveal the most hauntingly beautiful woman Allen had ever laid eyes upon. Her skin and hair as white as a ghost’s, the blood on her cheek was the only visible blemish. In stark contrast to her pale complexion, its bright red pigment seemed even more offensive. However, her striking appearance was not enough to offset her mocking smile and the viciousness hidden behind the fine features of her face. Surprised at first, Allen still perceived the woman to be a monster. Hands steadying on the pistol, he yelled towards his nemesis across the square, “That was a warning shot, next time I won’t miss!” The barrel of the gun pointing directly at the woman, he was bewildered when she was no longer in front of him. The hair on the back of his neck suddenly standing on end. Allen shivered, as a sweet voice whispered into his ear, “S
There was a tremor as the full weight of the beast hit the ground. The bullet piercing its heart mid lunge, it had fallen almost instantly. The slain beast clearly behind the Witch when Allen fired, he knew now that he had missed his target. On high alert he rapidly surveyed the square, until nn encircled pentagram glowed on the stones next to the subdued werewolf. The Witch’s form gradually taking shape. She appeared crouching beside it curiously. Allen’s rage withstanding, he quickly closed the gap between them. Leaving no more room for any of her tricks this time, he pressed the gun against the back of her head. Allen had never killed a person before. However, with his body shaking with anger and his vision blurred by the rain and his rage, he thought himself capable of murder in this moment. This realization only caused Allen to hate the Witch even more. “Witch, answer me.” He spat. “Did you kill Harold Pierce?” Feeling the cold barrel of Allen’s
Allen flung himself at the Witch. Landing with a splat as they hit the wet ground.“Say that again.” He snarled, pinning her beneath him. Her face calm, the Witch stared up at him impassively. Jaw clenched and breathing ragged, his face was distorted by the hatred, grief, and disgust that overwhelmed his otherwise naturally charming features. Flashing across his honest eyes, red from tears and sleepless nights, his emotions played like a kaleidoscope before the woman. Holding the young man’s gaze, the Witch observed the depths of his tortured soul. She knew the pain her words had inflicted yet could no longer remain silent about her involvement in Harold Pierce’s untimely demise.“I am responsible for Pierce’s death.” She announced, definitively. Allen’s grip on her arms growing more intense with her confession. The warm blood from her wound seeped between his fingers. Still he sustained his fervent hold on her. “Th
Chiri Krane gasped for air. Trembling on the cold dark marble floor. She was thrown by the shadow like a discarded rag doll at the feet of its master. This was the third occasion she had been dragged into the Abyss by a shadow. Still she thought there would never come a day when it was not insanely terrifying experience. Completely isolated from the outside world, the Abyss was commanded by the magic users of a single family. Darker than a night without stars or the deepest part of the ocean, every second felt suffocating. At times it was silent enough the hear the blood rushing through your veins buzzing in your ears. Then, other times it contained the petrifying screams of anguish from every living thing it had ever consumed, their tortured wails entrapped there for all eternity. “Crazy bastard.” Chiri wheezed. Lifting her head enough to glare intently at the black patent leather shoes of Cazer Krane. “I see this foul-mouthed wench decided to return to us.” He rema
Allen was stupefied. Certain he had just witnessed the Witch being eaten by a monster. He was unsure whether it was actually safe to proceed after following her all the way here. However, Allen soon found his resolve once more. Walking into the shadow of the wall himself, he was admitted relieved when it remained unchanged. Approaching the gate, the high stone walls of the Alliance seemed more intimidating without his guide. His concerns lessened though, as a flash of the card the Witch had given him easily permitted him entry. Waved past the check points stationed at each layer of the outer and inner walls of the fortress. Allen came to find himself standing within a grand hall in a relatively short time. Lined with tall arched windows that stretched to meet the top of its high ceilings, it was flooded with the dreamy pinkish hue of the setting sun. Mixed with the mysterious light of massive glowing crystals adrift in the air, they cast mesmerizing streams of color
Slamming the door behind him, Cazer Krane was seething with rage. The moment she appeared before him disheveled, battered, and dirty he began to rue the day he’s agreed to Chiri’s probation. Uncertain whether to be more furious at his misplaced faith in her or Chiri’s relentless propensity to dive headfirst into chaos at the first possible opportunity. Cazer’s muscles tensed as he fought to regain control over his next physical outburst of anger. The vein in his neck retaliating, it throbbed in agitation under his collar. Alone now in the Director’s private chamber, Chiri reached protectively for her arm. Knowing the injury would only serve to incur Cazer’s wrath further, she did not wish to reveal it to him. However, the defensive action immediately aroused his suspicions. His eyes narrowing on where Chiri seemed so eager to conceal, he backed her into the door. Roughly unfastened the cloak, he yanked the garment from her grasp swiftly. Unveiling the bandages covere
Chiri took her time. The long stick she held leaving a trail behind her as she walked. It had been years since she had taken in the air outside of the Alliance and was in no hurry to return. Distanced from its walls and stifling atmosphere, she experienced pure unfettered contentment in this moment of freedom. Windy and spotted with clouds, it was not a remarkable day. Nonetheless, she was determined to enjoy her limited independence, even if it was to play a game of whack-a-mole. Gradually, Chiri had earned enough of the organization’s confidence to allow for a few menial assignments. Provided, she met the 10pm curfew and was under the constant surveillance of Cazer’s shadows. Any perceived misconduct would result in immediate removal by said shadows. Pausing at the edge of the field Chiri admired her work. The circle encompassed the entire plot of land. Surrounded by ruins, it held a lattice pattern and smaller incircle with intertwined sigils. Dropping the stick,