Seed of Life

by D.E.P.

Of course the isolated place was dark, with only a small amount of green light moving its way through the fog. One could easily get lost in such a place where each path seemed similar due to the many huts that bordered them. Oh those dark scolding huts! They seemed to have sight imbedded in them. As one walked before them, the black raggedy curtains would move, only to show no signs of a living creature inside. From the corners of one’s eye, shadows lurked. Long thin scaly shadows! Yet, when one turned, the shadow would be dismissive in appearance. Thin strands of deep green moss hung from the broken roofs, only to fall down and be taken by the wind. The hyacinth showed no sign of cowardice as it walked behind the others, smelling the grey ground with interest. Puddles of water spread across the ground as if rain had touched the isolated and lifeless inhabitance, until a voice broke the silence.

  “Hello young ones, what brings you here is not a question, but a destiny,” an odd woman stated as she curled her naked arm around the post of her black hut. Bracelets of multiple dark colors and forms sparkled around her exposed wrist. Her dirty blonde hair silently moved behind her along with the long hoops held by only her ears. Her eyelids, drenched in a dark emerald pigment opened to reveal her silent golden eyes.

  “Come forth. It is my destiny to distinguish the destiny of others,” she stated with great mystery. Without waiting for a reply, she moved herself into her hut, slowly moving her arm from the post until it disappeared into her premise.

  The four of them looked towards each other in question. “I don’t like her. But I’m sure she knows that already,” stated Glacies as she curled her lip in repugnance.

  “Do we trust her? We are not here to seek our future, but to seek the skeleton finger,” Invicta stated in a whisper. The woman had intimidated him with her quick movements.

  “Will you come or not? Do not keep me waiting,” stated the odd woman without reappearing outside.

  The king looked at Invicta, “It is better to trust than to not. They will curse or bless us.” The king walked up the small steps, creaking his way towards the doorway as the others followed. His thin white cloak moved in back of his bold body as he stepped into the rustic hut.

  While the hut seamed dreadful on the outskirts, it did not by far contain the same feeling in the interior. The woman lifted a wooden rod towards the small flames from a fireplace at the side. Bringing it towards her plump lips, she blew onto the small flame as her eyes gazed towards her new guests. She quickly flicked the wooden rod, leaving it on the fire mantle to unravel its spices in the room. Small opaque swirls of green moved through the little wind that made itself aware in the small chamber.

  “Ah yes, sit down. I will not keep you long,” she stated as she lifted up her long black eyelashes before her company. A long golden dress with a slight shininess drooped to the ground. Her shoulders were fully exposed; an odd imprint was shown on her right shoulder. Looking more clearly, it was obvious that the tattoo was nothing more than a serpent around an old twig. However, staring far more than usual and one would see the serpent moving, gaping its fangs at the viewer with a deathly stare in return.

  An odd bench, composed of large bones with only the skin of a reptile covering it, stood behind a large circular green table in which the odd woman slowly took a seat. They themselves sat down where the woman had motioned with her hands, only to stare into her golden eyes with interest. Like the table they had sat in when on the ship in the skies, this one also showed signs of waves on its stoned surface.

  “Drink this, it will help me decipher your minds,” the woman smiled as she spread her hand over the table where thin golden goblets appeared with a fresh lime green liquid inside. Magni slightly looked at the king beside him. Nevertheless, he took the goblet as the others had, letting the slightly thick liquid to move its way down his throat. A slightly warm feeling tingled his lips as the bitter drink scratched his throat on its way down.

  Without the slightest smile of approval, the woman cupped her hands towards the golden bracelet around her neck. The red glow was soon covered by her hands as she spoke the ancient language of her ancestry. Her eyes opened once again in the silent habitat, but no longer were her pupils as visible and distinguishable as before. Opening her eyes revealed golden spheres as eyeballs, but no visible pupil. It brightened with her stare as the air inside the small hut moved with rapidity around her. The golden hair that had once dropped to her sides now spread across her head, much like a mane.

  She held her hand outwards, spread across the mysterious table as she turned to Invicta. “Your eyes show no signs of death, yet your soul will be frozen from you,” she stated with great thought.

  Her blonde eyebrows stretched out long and thin as she moved her emotionless face towards Magni, “Magni, you and another will bind. If you are to have a child, she will be much fiercer than anticipated.” Her lips moved with such precision that it seemed her words were a rhythm. Yet her stare showed the serious expression atop her.

  “My king, I am much flattered by your company. Yet, let us not be friends, for your life will transform to be opposite of what you longed for. If saved, you will return to your position on your rightful throne,” stated the woman as she moved from side to side in thought.

  She frowned before speaking slowly, “Glacies, you have died once, yet you live. Still there is a secret upheld from you. You will only gain knowledge of this divine secret when it is far too late.”

  Her eyes brightened far more than before as she silenced her whispering voice. She relaxed the muscles that caused her hands to move through the air as she deciphered the legacies of the individuals before her. As her eyes slowly transitioned to their original depiction, she rose up from her darkly feathered seat while her jewelry caused a tone to drift from existence.

  She walked towards the entrance of the hut, holding her left hand around the doorway with great mystery. “I know why you have come,” she sneered. “It is the skeleton finger you seek, yet it will not be given to you freely. Death has sought your appraisal, but she that withers underneath shall not. After all, we do not normally receive such visitors as yourselves.” She looked behind at their staring faces, their deep breaths, and the questioning expressions. Her hands pushed at the wall behind her as she spoke after a long silence. “If you do destine to wake her withered body from underneath, it will only bring the yells of chaos within you. Look within the graves before you and you will see the grave stone of Cecidit, the largest of them all.”

  The king glared at the woman at the doorway, “Why do you help us so?”

  The woman smiled peculiarly, “Why, you will surely compensate it in the future. That, I am sure of.” She motioned with her hand towards the doorway as she brushed the dust from her golden dress.

  The king and the others slowly stepped from each wooden step until they were left alone once again in the path they had come from. The figures inside such huts were not as aloof as before. Several of them opened the tiny windows to withdraw old raggedy black cloaks that swayed with the howling wind. Others swept the wooden porch of their old dark huts as they stood watching the arrivals before them. Not a man was shown in sight, for the dark land was composed of elderly women alike. They stared with a wrinkle on their astute noses as their eyes narrowed with disapproval. Yet they did not speak, only waiting for them to pass by. Eyes prowled even within the dirty and musty windows until the fingerprints were merely dust.

  “What was that about? Supposedly I’ll be nothing more than an icicle?” questioned Invicta with deep concern.

  “At least you won’t bear a beast as a daughter!” Magni yelled with a smirk. He looked back at the hyacinth behind them.

  Glacies smiled, shaking her head with anxiety. “A foreteller or not, I will make my own destiny.”

  They did not quite know where the grave stones protruded from the ground. Yet, they walked in the same dirt path along a dirty stone wall. Their silence merely led them to search undeniably for the graves the woman spoke of. The dark green grass along the dirt p
ath flickered with a blue shine as the wind lightly touched the bristles. The hyacinth growled at the ground for no apparent reason until they reached a path leading to several obstacles in the distance.

  As they reached the gates of the graves, they looked beyond at the dead environment. Not only were the stones torn from within, but even the purple weeds that had shown themselves in any desired area now shown like the dead beneath them. It seemed as if only the crows with their golden and distasteful eyes made it their legacy to leave the feathers encrypted in the area. The gates creaked as they were opened, as if warning them of their proceedings in the graveyard. Slowly the four of them walked inside as the gates coarsely closed behind them, swaying with the depressing wind. The clouds above shown grey and dark as a defined chilliness crawled up their bodies.

  “Why not use the bone’s magic for our own use?” questioned Glacies as she withdrew a twig she had found on the ground. She snapped the thin piece of wood with her hands, letting the two pieces fall within the gaps of her spread fingers.

  “My queen would surely know of the answer. I remember in a blur that the long finger belonging to such a witch allowed her to destine death onto others, until death caught on with the witch. With desperation, she used the magic wrapped within the bone of her body to end Death itself, not knowing the true power of Death,” the king answered as he pointed to the highest and most exhilarating gravestone from afar. The king’s wordings were slightly confusing, for he meant Death as an inhabitant. He knew the woman but gave little proof of it.

  Their steps crunched the broken stones beneath their feet as they moved their fingers in an attempt to unravel the webbing from the smaller spiders in the midst. An occasional croak was heard from the numerous crows that spread their black wings above, swooping down to land on the small gravestones covered with a dirty white substance.

  “How disgusting and loathsome this place is!” yelled Glacies as she aimed at a crow stooping from the head of a large cloaked statue. Releasing the string far more carefully than before, led the arrow to soar within the breeze to only be caught within the feathers of the dark bird. A loud shriek lead to the diminishing breaths of the bird as it fell towards its own grave. The birds that had gathered around the statue quickly flew from the carcass underneath, making a circular flying spree above. Their loud cries only lead to more dread as they neared the stone they longed for.

  Invicta turned back with anger shown on his face as he formed an expression of question, “Was that necessary?”

  “Obviously so. Their feeding eyes only caused me to puncture their deathly pupils. I only scared them, nothing more,” whispered Glacies as she continued walking around the grey tombs around them. She stepped on numerous dark leaves, crunching them where they stood until the crushed pieces flew towards the swirl of crows above.

  Gazing up at the tomb was not enough, for it made the large tomb stone seem like nothing more than a pebble on the grey ground. Rather squared as the tomb stone was, it would take several steady paces to make one full lap around the death bearer. Engravings of odd lettering spread along the outline of an overly large book held by wrinkly stoned fingers. The sharp long finger nails curved outwards as if piercing the enchantment within the book. Black roses protruded rapidly from the sides of the extravagant tomb stone, only to cover the cloudy silvery surface. Several spiked peeks lined the tip of each corner of the octagon structure, with only one entrance at their disposal.

  “Black as night, these roses are,” stated Glacies as she cut a small rose from the vines that stretched its arms around the structure. She had only heard of rare occasions where darkness was prominent. Quickly it disintegrated within her hands. Slowly she turned her hand vertically, watching carefully as the breeze took the black powder into the air.

  “It is much the other way around. It is their powder that causes the dark night,” stated the kind softly as he looked upwards to his side. As if the structure were a pedestal, a large statue stood atop. Its long skinny fingers pointed directly upwards, for it was the image of the witch’s frail body.

  “What use will the bone do for Death?” questioned Invicta suddenly, breaking the silence.

  “Perhaps it was not the witch itself that bore such magic. Rumors say the witch and Death made a covenant. However, the witch broke her truce, leading to the curse of Death and the death of her frail body,” the king answered as he scanned the side of the structure.

  “We do not have much time you know,” stated Glacies as she moved much closer to the structure. She held the red locket that prevented anyone from entering. Its ruby structure was not significant, however, as Glacies reached for an arrow. Quickly she stabbed the locket, causing the ruby stone to shatter and allow their entrance into the chamber. The locket was useless for defending the domain of the witch.

  The four walked into the narrow passage, careful not to touch the walls alongside them, for they were covered with a thick turquoise moss. The vines containing the roses of death did not yield to the entrance. Its skinny stems made their way alongside the walls, wrapping themselves around the unlit rusty torches succumbed with thin strands of webbing. It was the darkness, not the light, which bestowed the rose’s life.

  “Torches, use them,” stated the king as he quickly rubbed his hands together to create a perfect flame. Swiftly touching the sides of the torch, he allowed the flames to feed off the little juice at the bottom. He lifted the torch, allowing it to awaken from its held position against the mossy wall.

  Glacies moved her fingers against each other as she frowned before Invicta. Invicta smiled slightly, “Need a flame?” he questioned as his enflamed finger reached into the torch Glacies held. “It gets quite overpowering, the flame.”

  She nodded, as if understanding. Her power of the waters was quite useless in the dry atmosphere, put still she spread her sprinkled finger to relieve her skin. They walked through the narrow tunnel, much in a circular pattern, proceeding downwards with each step. The flames moved violently with the resentful wind that had seeped its way into the chamber. Dry and course weeds lined the path, not to mention ancient bones much like powder.

  The king held his blade outwards, holding it downwards as they neared a bare wall.

  “Now we are destined to dig it out?” questioned Invicta with annoyance as he dropped his blade to slightly touch the grains of the ground.

  “Not quite,” stated the king as he removed his arm from beneath his white cloak to touch the surface of the dirt covered wall. “Hold the light closer, will you?”

  “Hold this,” Magni stated to his brother as he handed him his torch.

  Each footstep caused a loud crunching noise beneath his feet as he stood beside the king. The king’s torch leaned against the wall, producing a small amount of energy. With a quick movement of his hands, Magni jumped a few inches high while holding his arms upwards in a steady stance. The flames wrapped around his arms much like an enflamed serpent until it reached the cup formed by his fingers. From there, the flames grew much larger than a thin strand of brightness, allowing the king to view the entire wall of dirt at once.

  Much more than a wall of grey dirt, majestic dark designs bordered the sides of such a doorway. Not only were the markings a bold color, they moved dreamily in their place, fading at times or moving with the current of the wind. “Ah there it is! The ancient sealing,” stated the king much to himself than to the others. Lifting up his own torch, the king touched the vibrant flames onto the bold moving design on the lower right corner of the wall. Quickly, the flames etched themselves into the crevices, traveling at great length until they combined with the flame that had started the burning.

  The blazes brightened as they dug deeper into the dirt, thriving their flames outwards as if reaching the beholder of such a creation. The king watched in awe as the flames reflected their image on his pupils. Quickly closing his eyes, he stated a few wordings in a whisper as he leaned his head towards the ground. Using his right hand, he touched his forehead,
his chest, and both sides of his shoulders, ending the incantation with a silent touch of his lips onto his finger. The flames did not ease at such an enchantment as they brightened far more than before, as if turning to liquid that sprawled onto the ground. Yet, the flames slowly disappeared far deeper into the crevices of the designs sketched on the barrier.

  “How could you have known?” questioned Glacies as she neared the walls that neared their last stage in the silent position. She narrowed her eyes as she touched the walls with both hands, pushing with her fingers to acquire a better view.

  “That is not my concern. It is no secret that the dead lay in such chambers as this one. Yet, most wait for such eagerness. Yield your weapons, for a witch would be seen as unwise to forget a defense curse where it lies,” the king stated as he once again withdrew his blade along with his followers. A loud metallic noise echoed through the narrow passageway before the disintegration of the wall before them. The fire wrapped its flames around the small grains composing the wall until the last grain was disintegrated by the lightest touch of a flame. The blazes soon also disappeared within the air, exposing the room behind it with regret.

  The hyacinth did not accompany them into the chamber; instead it walked towards the exit through which it had come from. The footprints carefully withstood its bold stance on the ground until a light breeze lifted the grains, causing the footsteps to drift away with them.

  The chamber before them was not something that seemed to be from the dark mysterious passageway composed of the slimy cobwebs covering the walls. Instead, a steady violet glow came off the surface of the objects inside from no apparent destination. Strange purple artwork painted on the metallic blue walls sparkled with the new source of light that silently entered the room. Walking further inside, it was clear that it was not an ordinary place of the dead, for the room was far larger than anticipated, several feet below the surface from which they had come. A small circular lake, composed of a dark and degrading purple color, formed around the silver coffin that stood at a distance awaiting the newly arrivals.

  As they continued their steps towards the shoreline of the small purple puddle, the water shivered as if noticing their approach. Ripples formed before a large thin metal bridge rose to the surface, causing a waterfall of the purple liquid to fall at the sides. Glacies lifted her bow as she breathed the refreshing air that had been enclosed in the room for several years. She did not trust the place with its purple colors reflecting off the blue walls. Still, she looked down at the waters, her toes so closely touching them. She studied her reflection with much concern, only lifting her head up to see Invicta’s face before her. “I never thought I would age. Is death really near?” she questioned as she brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.

  “Not as close as you think,” he said as he positioned his arm around her, guiding her away from the waters.

  “Do not get distracted. I do not trust our presence in such a place. I will proceed through the bridge first. Then you Invicta, will follow. If there should be any beasts underneath the waters, do not fail to attack them, Glacies and Magni,” stated the king as he placed his first step hard on the beginning of the metal bridge. A light pounding sound echoed through the odd room, yet it was dismissive to the rest of the footsteps. Fortis’s quick footsteps pounded against the metal until he reached a platform shaped into an eight point compass rose. The different shadings shined with the approaching light, until the entire casket was visible. Engravings on the metallic coffin were etched on the sides, mostly depictions of death.

  The king looked back, making certain that Invicta was behind him. Glacies nodded at the king as Magni pulled out his spade in preparation. “Ready?” he questioned as he dug his fingers in the gap between the lid and the body of the coffin.

  “Have I any choice? I am ready enough to run,” Invicta stated as he lightly brushed his leg with the side of his sword, signaling that his leg had miraculously healed.

  The king did not respond. He tightened his eyes and face as he pushed the covering. Invicta placed his blade to the side, also moving his hands into the crevices to push the covering from atop the coffin. With little effort from the two, the covering quickly crashed onto the metal surface beneath their feet. With a loud shattering sound echoing the room, it was clear the witch did not enjoy the company.

  “Oh how is she?” questioned Glacies as she posed her right hand against her hip.

  Invicta peered inside with utter disgust. He drooled slightly as he took the entire image to mind. Only slight formations of what appeared to be dried skin dangled from the ends of the cheek bones. The bones, slightly visible and white as one’s eyes, were covered with collections of ancient dust from earlier years. Thin strands of grey hair seemed to be attached to the disintegrating scalp, not even waving slightly with the light wind inside the chamber of the dark witch. Looking at her body, it was clear that her right hand contained a larger than normal finger for any inhabitant of the land. Long and bony, the finger laid to the side of the body.

  Invicta moved his eyes away from the black cloaked body, staring directly at Glacies before responding, “Like Death’s grandmother!”

  Glacies smiled peculiarly to herself, not being much in the mood of laughter. Still, she continued watching as the king slowly moved his fingers onto the bones.

  The king looked at Invicta before proceeding, failing to read the warnings inscribed along the dusty casket in which the bundle of bones lay. He touched the longer of the bones, the index finger bone to be exact. Sliding his own fingers upwards to where the large bone was attached to, he gripped the ancient structure. A cold sensation traveled around the area he touched until he pulled the bone backwards, snapping it where it lay.

  Quickly the skeleton was awakened from its death bed, pushing its full upper body upwards as it breathed deeply. The chest of the figure pulsated forward, letting the air to be quickly released from her bony mouth. The king quickly snatched the bone he had snapped from the witch’s hand, noting the four fingers that moved towards it with deep anticipation.

  “My bone, you fool!” the skeleton screamed as she pointed at the king with the other hand. The holes in which her eyes would have been positioned, narrowed despite the lack of skin covering the skull. The witch pushed the sides of the coffin in which she had rested. Pulling herself upwards with her skinny white bones, she fell onto the metal surface that had sprung from within the waters.

  “It is time to move,” stated the king coarsely. Invicta nodded as he retrieved his spade from where it was placed.

  “You will go only so far!” the skeleton screamed as she dipped her skeleton body into the purple liquid that had once been around her coffin. At first only the water tingled, forming perfect circular ripples in which she had drowned herself. Still, bubbles rose to the surface, as if the skeleton had sudden last breaths from its crumbled lungs.

  The king and Invicta continued running through the bridge, careful not to touch the shimmering purple waters that so closely settled at the sides. Their pounding footsteps caused eerie noises to fill the air, as if the skeleton coming back to life was not enough.

  “Faster! They are the waters of youth!” screamed Glacies as she positioned her arrow by her beating eye. Magni stood beside her with his sword in the air in front of him. His chest beat slowly as his face began to form perspiration.

  “Of course, Glacies!” Invicta yelled, slightly irritated. He took his last step, touching the ground before the king, only footsteps behind him. Invicta’s last step was slightly hesitant, however, as if lured by Glacies’s words.

  “What is he doing,” whispered Glacies more to herself than to Magni. “I know what you’re thinking Invicta! Don’t even put a toe in those waters. What helps the dead, will certainly be deathly to the living!” she yelled all the more.

  The king did not wait for Invicta to move forward; instead, he grabbed Invicta’s shoulder, dragging him forward before he even stood to see his reflection in the waters.
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  Seeing the ripples forming once again in the waters, Glacies aimed. Tightening her vibrant eye, she released only one arrow towards the direction of the moving ripples with utter desperation. But it was not what it seemed to be. The arrow did not simply dive into the waters and sink its point into the bones. The bones, therefore, did not shatter. Instead, a moist hand quickly rose to the top, causing droplets of water to fall into the ripples formed. The fingers tightened, catching the arrow at the precise moment of its landing.

  The finger fiddled with the weapon until the face of the figure was fully exposed. No longer did it appear to be the grandmother of Death, but the very distant child of his. Where her face had once shown scraps of skin hanging from the cheek bones, a steady smile formed on her moonlit skin. She was quite divine, yet a sinister appearance was evident. She held the arrow to her side, as she pulled back her luscious thick golden hair. Oddly, the hair was unwet by the waters; neither was her smooth skin or the black clothing she wore. Wearing a raggedy cloth in bitters before succumbing to the waters, her new black dress blemished the purple waves.

  “Tell me, what year is it?” she questioned as she moved her body towards the shoreline. Her blonde hair glowed profoundly with the little light. Every strand of hair brightened with the shimmering waters. The black dress, tight on her slender body, contained a large transparent collar that curled around her neck. It was much like the simple dresses the queens of land wore to nothing more than funerals.

  Invicta, stunned by the woman’s body and slightly bewildered by her transformation, answered. In this book, it does not quite matter whether the date was 2050 or even 103030. The dates have no meaning, for perhaps the years are quite different than those in the human world. Perhaps the world in which you have been eavesdropping is nothing more than another story. Still, perhaps a dream of a dream is not a dream at all.

  Still the woman proceeded, lifting her leg from the waters. She curled her lips as if dominant in her own denomination. The others did not drift off, nor did they go towards her to dig their weapons deep through her beating throat. Instead, they peered into her eyes as she came closer to the entrance in which she came from. “Now, where is that bone,” she stated as she quickly glared at her hand. No longer did she have an index finger, instead there was a dip in which her finger would have lain.

  “How is my dear brother, Magicalis, doing? He was quite the opposite of me. I could always win over him in battle, especially after the terrible accident his wife underwent. It’s a pity my soul mate and myself drifted apart from each other. Perhaps he would have had mercy on her,” she stated, looking upwards with a slight sadness.

  “You are much closer than you think. It is my brother that has surely gone another way. You always had a heart, yet his has still to be ripped out,” stated the king with strong words that seemed to leap out from beneath his tongue.

  “Fortis, magic is not wrong. It has never been. It is the use of it that makes it evil. You know it was a curse that was put onto me,” she stated. But her face of innocence soon turned into one of dread and divine hatred for all who awakened her from her domain.

  The king shook his head, knowing the end was not over, “There is no point in fighting her. Run for the tunnels, for her soul is cursed,” the king stated as he looked back at the woman he only personally knew as a dear friend.

  “You know very well of my powers then, Fortis!” she screamed with a raspy voice that escalated at the brink of irritation. Her eyes brightened much like the woman the four had seen in the dark musky huts far from the land in which the dead rested. The woman pushed back her hair before spreading her arms into the ancient air. Making a point with her clasped hands, she spread her arms away from each other. “The birds, they thirst,” she laughed with her croaking throat echoing through her chamber. She did not run after them, she merely waited for what was to come as she silently walked towards the exit of her rest.

  “Can you tell us what is happening?” questioned Glacies slightly irritated as she ran with the king at her side.

  “Her history is quite shocking. Scriptures have it that if she were to be awakened, her curse would only fall from her with the sinking of her own bone into her beating heart,” the king stated, slurring his words with his salivated tongue.

  Glacies lifted up an eyebrow, “Well this certainly doesn’t happen every day. If you lend me the witch’s bone, I may be able to aim it deep into the heart you mentioned.”

  The king looked upon the ground in deep thought, peering at his racing footsteps. “It is not necessary. We do not know how strong her powers are. Besides, her true self would not have wanted her friends to go through such extremes. After all, she has been seemingly dead for all these years,” he stated as they neared the little amount of greenish light at the entrance.

  “My king, the birds,” stated Invicta as he pointed into the darkness where a slight reflection of shiny black feathers moved above in a tight circle.

  “I know her dark magic. The crows are now in her possession. It is time to use our own magic in such circumstances!” the king stated boldly. It was not in his principle to use magic, primarily because most were only corrupted by its use. Magic was and still is a powerful source, a gift from the sky king above. But for what uses? It would depend on the hands of the beholder. They were already outside the realm of Malum where magic strived for little time.

  The king looked towards the gate, already knowing it would be locked; he would attempt to unlock it after facing the witch. Glacies stood by it, shaking the doorway with no luck. “The bone,” stated Glacies as she raised her arm in the air. The king looked upwards, finally throwing the bone towards the siren. He watched as her hands clutched the powerful piece. Looking upon the bone, Glacies closed her eyes before whispering a scripture as she clutched the new weapon. In her hand no longer laid a bone, but an arrow of the silvery substance. A sharp point lay at the tip of the ivory object. Glacies looked up at the king, “It will last for only so long. Make it quick,” she stated as she ran to the statue.

  “And what do you suppose you’re going?” questioned the king as his white cloak swayed with the wind in ambivalence.

  Glacies looked behind, smiling peculiarly. “Hiding,” she stated as she climbed the white pedestal of a large statue. Putting the arrow in her mouth, she bit it as to not have it fall back towards the graves. She moved her arms and legs, raising her body onto the back of the male statue. Hanging from the swords on the back of the sculpture, Glacies waited for the arrival of the witch.

  A shadow lurked through the tunnel. It was certain that it was the witch since the hyacinth was clearly seen behind a grave stone to the right. The witch continued wrapping her hands around the object she caught, until it was no more. Glacies smiled as she gazed at the witch, knowing the arrow had returned to her.

  “Hand me the bone and I will leave,” she stated once again, glaring her possessed eyes at the king.

  Fortis walked towards her, yet he did not retrieve his sword to dig it deep into her throbbing throat. “I cannot. Fight me for it,” he stated.

  “I will,” she replied as she quickly dropped to the ground to retrieve a sharp broken piece of glass, pushing it upwards towards the king’s heart. Deeper she pushed the sharp object into his body as she tightened her gaze at the red blood that dripped down. She dropped the body, knowing it was only an imitation of Fortis that now stood a great distance away from her.

  The king laughed, his deep voice throbbing before he spoke, “You still fall for such tricks!”

  “You’re the few who deceive me in such matters,” she stated peculiarly as she watched above at the crows. A slight motion of her wrist with a slight whisper caused swirls of purple colors to fill the circle in which the crows flew with their own possessed souls. Their eyes were no longer the bold golden color, but a beating red.

  “It is time,” the king whispered boldly to himself as he retrieved the axe at his side. Holding it by the handle, the axe awakened in it
s prominent purple form. “Do not kill her,” stated the king at Invicta and Magni who both stood behind a gravestone to the king’s side.

  “And why is that, Fortis? You are a fool for thinking such things! Yet, your foolishness will be used against you. You will see!” the woman screamed with great might as her tight black dress seemed to tighten around her raging body. She smiled wickedly as she brought her fingers together for a snap, “It is certainly time.”

  The crows that spread their deathly black wings to create a tunnel in the dark emerald sky croaked with agony. Yet, their agony was only used all the more for their revenge. As the snap echoed through the graveyard, so did the crows that flew above. Their eyes left the twister of purple light they had seemingly created to face those on the ground. Their protruding beaks were all they needed to muster the blood deep inside their enemies’ bodies.

  The king whispered wordings himself, bringing his arms slowly in an upward curved position. He opened his eyes rather abruptly, grinning to himself as the gravestones around them began to crack. The thin cracks that spread along the stones continued wrapping their invisible force around the names of the dead. Invicta questioned the king’s actions with his concerned expression, for their only protection was being destroyed from them.

  The crows above were not fearless; they merely searched for a source to quench their thirst as they dived down towards the grave stones that cracked with a profound snap. Their beating red eyes narrowed as they neared the heads and bodies of their deceivers. Flapping their wings with a considerable hasty force, the crows screamed harshly as they dug their beaks into Invicta’s extended arm he had used to block his head. He violently waved his spade without any luck, for the birds avoided the quick movement. Like flies, they fed on the little amount of blood that sprang from the small holes on his hand.

  But the cracks on the gravestones were not done in vain, as the chips of stone raced into the center of the graveyard. Their thin imperfections scraped stone against stone until rising upwards with great force and taking the appearance of what seemed like a rather large hawk. The small pieces of stone swiveled in their position as the hawk of broken stones moved towards the crows surrounding Invicta. Quickly, Invicta rolled his body to the side as the stones dug their imperfections into the oily feathers of the bloodthirsty birds. Their bodies, being scrawny and swollen, quickly gave in to the sharp pieces as the crows cried in deep distress.

  The pieces of stone scattered around the flock as the birds lifted their bloody wings into the air, the blood dripping down like droplets of water from the dark clouds above. Their screeching cries of suffering were unstoppable as they fluttered above to avoid the pieces of stone from sinking into the more vulnerable parts of their bodies. But the pieces of stone were also capable of flying above. They swiveled, showing the glossy reflection of the birds before cutting into their flesh without the slightest of mercy for such drab birds.

  There were more of them, however, flying towards the king and the others for their own kind of revenge. Their beaks seemed far sharper than before and their wings longer than the scrawny feathers from the previous flock. It was certain these crows were far more confident than the other flock, for they did not stop to avoid the racing pieces of stone that followed them. The purple tunnel above, much like a twister, widened its dark hole as it sucked in the stones from around the crows. The pieces swiveled dismissively into the purple eye above until the last piece of stone disappeared along with its deceiver.

  “You didn’t really think you would win this easily, did you?” questioned the woman as she rested her body on her right hip. She put her right arm at her side in a sarcastic manner as she curled her lips maliciously.

  “I have more in store for you. You will see,” stated the king as he threw his axe towards the air above him. The purple light ignited from the axe as it swiveled into the gleaming black feathers of the crows only a short distance above. The axe’s sharp edge quickly dug deep into the flesh of its enemies, cutting the heads of the possessed beasts as the reflection showed the evil stare in their eyes.

  There was still more, however. Flocks of the small beasts flew from afar, their beating black wings swooping towards the land in which the dead rested. Invicta rose from his calm position by a lonely gravestone, pushing his blade deep into the eyes of his predators. He watched as the crows silently fell to the ground along with the preceding carcasses, filling the ground with glossy feathers covered with a thick liquid seeping from within them. Some of the birds, however, froze in their golden position caused by a particular wound from the spade.

  Magni took a different approach, using both enchantments and weapons for his doing. With his exposed hand, he moved it through the air as he spoke wordings of enchantment. Around him, the wind abided to his humming as it threw the beasts towards the ground. Their bold bodies dove into the soft dirt, covering them in their position until the spade dug itself into their bodies in an end to their little suffering.

  Glacies continued her stance on the statue until a small group of the horrid birds found their way towards her direction. Glacies watched as the witch smiled and glared at her in her relaxed position. Glacies tightened her stare as she waited for the birds’ arrival. Quickly she dug into the back, retrieving the arrows that had already defended her ponderous of times. One by one the arrows flew into the moving feathers above, each sinking into the predators as they stalked their prey. Yet, three birds found a way to avoid such blows as they swerved away with the use of the strong wind.

  The crows did not disappear, however, as Glacies believed. Instead, they flew back, aiming towards the motionless body that clung to the statue of a bold figure. She had heard the horrid sound of the birds’ making. But it was too late as they dug their pesky beaks into her exposed leg. She grimaced, finding the situation as folly. With her bow still intact in her hand, she hit the small skulls of the birds, watching amusingly as each of them hit the ground at precisely the exact moment. Their beating red eyes no longer exposed the brightness they once did. Instead they dimmed dismissively along with their slowly decaying bodies.

  Glacies withdrew the bone in her mouth, turning it around in the palm of her hand as she slowly looked above as more of the crows awaited a challenge. She smiled peculiarly as she pointed with the bone towards the black cloud racing towards her. With a few words seeping from her mouth, the bony finger no longer seemed to contain the mentality of a structure of a body, but as an awakened wand. She had read a small amount of pages from the great books of enchantment her father had stored so carefully from her prying eyes. She had thought the enchantments useless until noting the fact that she had the most valuable object in her hand.

  Quickly, the preying beasts turned into nothing more than pure skeleton figures swaying with the wind. The bundles of bones simply clashed against each other, creating a deathly tune in the dark of night. They slowly spun until digging their sharp sides deep into the dirt to bury them.

  “It cannot be!” shrieked the witch as she threw her arms into the violent greenish wind around her. Her hair swayed violently behind her as her face grimaced with deep agony. “Only a few are worthy enough to know the true magic of such a masterpiece! Give it to me girl! It is not worthy for your weak hands to use such a thing!”

  Glacies continued smiling as she transformed the bone into the arrow she had designed it to be. “Enough of this witch!” she yelled as she pulled back the string as far as it allowed her to. Moving her fingers quickly as to not be slashed by the thread, she released it as she watched the blur of the arrow flying directly towards the heart of its prominent owner. The witch had grimaced, smiling much wider as she anticipated the siren’s action.

  The arrow did not puncture her chest in which her heart beat permissively, however. Instead, the witch’s hand leapt into the air without the slightest hint of accuracy. Yet the fingers had wrapped themselves around the slender figure of the bone, transforming it into the bone shape it was designed to be. She laughed coa
rsely, knowing as well as the others that death was near. She had the weapon capable of providing others with a silent death unless her life ended before theirs. It was not an option though; this is what the king had said himself.

  “It seems you have failed Fortis,” the witch said silently, much of a whisper than a statement. She continued tossing the bone between her fingers, not hearing the king’s quick words between his chapped lips. Glacies hoped the king knew what he was enchanting, for she was in the witch’s view—the first to die …again.

  The king motioned his hand towards Glacies, a profound white light spreading across his fingertips in anticipation for its release. Still he hid his power beneath his white cloak, touching his chest and waiting patiently for the witch’s destruction.

  “Little girl, you look much familiar. Perhaps I can distinguish your resemblance once you are petrified in front of my very feet,” the witch stated as she pushed the bone of her own finger towards Glacies. The force of the wind seemed to work against her, however. Still, she steadied her head, whispering an ancient language before flicking the wand once again at the girl who so much resembled one of her closest friends before her own death. A black fog-like light swiftly moved its way towards Glacies’s chest, inching forwards to take life from the body.

  Glacies’s heart pumped between these short moments as she closed her eyes with dignity. She did not know of any defense powers, much less against the power of death itself. She opened her eyes, wondering if death was not as painful as she had thought it to be. She had died; still, she thought the venom of the spider had prevented her from feeling the pain she expected. In front of her, a small sphere of white light expanded as the black string of death attempted to puncture the odd force.

  The witch wrinkled her nose in annoyance as she rolled her golden eyes in anticipation for the death she longed to cause. She flicked her wand once again, this time towards the maker of the force—the king. Fortis was already prepared, however, throwing his clutched hand into the air to release the power. Much like a virus, the white light quickly abolished the black force until it was no more than the light darkness that surrounded them.

  “Your force is useless, my dear friend. Do you not remember speaking to me of the only spell capable to defend your black magic?” questioned the king as he laughed loudly in the silence of the ancient graveyard. “It was a secret you have long forgotten, but yet it deceives you!”

  The king walked slowly towards the angry witch, moving his arms to protect himself from another attempt of black enchantment. The king smiled once again, wrapping his fingers along the woman’s hands until he grasped the weapon the witch had so strongly worshipped. She did not attempt to defy to the king; her weak figure fell to the side of her own grave chamber. Her bright eyes moved towards the ground until she looked upwards at the shadow in fear as the bone stabbed her moving chest.

  It was not a matter of life or breaths that caused the witch to open her eyes much wider than normal. It was simply the leaking of a curse that had been cultivated rather pleasantly in her own heart, feeding off her soul for means of destruction. The woman let out a high pitched scream, much more exaggerated than thought to be. She fell towards the ground before a set of arms caught her limp, yet breathing body. The black dress wrapped around her body continued to shine despite the circumstances.

  Fortis looked upon the woman’s face, hoping to see signs of little life still entrapped in the body. Her face, soft and moist, showed emotionless about his arms. Yet, her chest moved upwards in a slow but rhythmical pattern.

  The king stood abruptly, noticing the staring eyes around him. “Invicta, do carry Cecidit. This is her primary name you shall call her by,” stated the king as he lifted the woman’s body towards Invicta’s spread arms.

  Glacies, slightly appearing jealous, quickly walked to the front as she graciously lowered her body just enough to spread her fingers through the entrancing fur of the hyacinth. The hyacinth opened its large jaws as it breathed heavily, causing an echo through its very mouth.

  “Go behind me, Death will not appreciate what we have done,” stated the king as he touched the rails composing the rusty black gate of the graveyard, “Neither will the witches, for that matter.”

  “And why is that?” stated Glacies sarcastically, “First of all, we do have the stupid finger bone Death asked for. And secondly, if the witches supposedly know of our future, they would have attempted to stop us from causing such a catastrophe.”

  The king continued walking up the dry and rocky path until nearing the small black huts they had wandered through only a short moment ago. “It is true; we have what Death has demanded of us. Yet, there are secrets you have yet to hear about. The witches can only seek our future with a gulp of their tasteless potion. Still yet, they only see a blur of what is to come in the late future,” the king answered, only turning his head to face Glacies for a mere second.

  The course trail led to the path composed of emerald green stones bordering it. With each step, these ancient stones brightened their green color as if wrapping their force around their feet.

  An elderly lady, with pulled back splinted brown hair, lifted her head to view the group heading towards her. She bit her tongue earnestly; the mole to the right side of her dry lips seemed to darken with the rush of blood. She wrinkled her nose with contempt as her black cat curled its body along her leg beneath the tattered black skirt she wore. The cat, mystifying enough with its vibrant yellow eyes, stared at the five as its fur brightened with a slight touch of dark green.

  “Hurry Invicta! I can’t stand the stench of such a place,” stated Glacies as she turned around at Invicta who walked a few steps behind them.

  “Was it not the same at the castle beneath the stream?” whispered Invicta as they neared the woman who stood with her humped back against a weak post that seemed to hold the roof of the hut. The cat purred as it saw the hyacinth nearing her territory. It opened its mouth with anger, curling its jaws to expose a set of shiny deathly columns of white chips.

  “Would you not buy a few items I have collected in my hut?” asked the mysterious woman. She wrapped her hand along a thick and ancient cane as she began to walk towards them in a steady manner. Her voice croaked once again, a voice of the elderly.

  “I assure you have nothing that would benefit us,” stated the king as he nodded with assertion.

  “In fact I do,” stated the woman as her dark green eyes brightened with contentment. “However, I only trade for such things. What is that you hide so keenly against your cloak?” the woman questioned as she pointed her trembling discolored finger at Fortis.

  The king stopped in his stance, knowing the witch before him would cause great chaos in a short amount of time. “I assure you, it is nothing of significance. Perhaps we could venture here at a later time,” stated Fortis as he peered into the witch’s dark eyes.

  “It is not a matter of importance, but the perception of such things. I have felt the power beneath your cloak. It is not something to be readily forgotten. Give it here and you will evade what I have to offer,” screeched the elderly witch as her wrinkled eyes tightened along with her disproportioned smile.

  “Can I stick my arrow in her skull?” whispered Glacies with great irritancy. She leveled her arrow in her bow, only to hold it by her side.

  “You shall not! Go on without me, I will have the witch fall asleep into my own hands,” stated the king in a low voice as to not have his comment heard by the elderly woman.

  But as the king looked up, he had failed to notice the hiding shadows to his sides. He had not seen the preying eyes and ears that watched and listened with greedy intentions. From the sides of their huts, small children, primarily young girls, slowly walked towards the primary scene in their small province. Their eyes, shown with dark shadows, seemed to diminish the idea of innocence. Their black clothing, much used in ancient times, straddled along their slim figures. The girls wore long thin dresses, much more of a shawl than what it w
as designed to be. On the other hand, the boys wore what appeared to be a vest over a tattered shirt. While there were boys, there did not seem to be fathers.

  In the upstairs rooms of the small peculiar huts, hands moved the handles as to open the musty and cracked windows that had been long since opened. As the windows opened, small grains of sand that had found its way in the crevices, fell to the ground below. Elderly woman figures, much like the weak woman in front of them, eyed every movement down below. It was slightly awkward to be in such a situation when the boat only lied a short distance away. The skull could be slightly seen as it turned its head to face the dilemma. It grimaced with annoyance. “You have no authority to halt them!” he spoke with a deep cracked voice.

  “And what authority do you have? Stay away from our lands! It’s a pity we cannot entirely kill you!” yelled one of the witches in the second story of the hut. Her voice, being high pitched, snarled in the green illuminated darkness.

  “Oh how I wish I could die! But that is no concern to you witches! While you cannot end life for me, I could surely end yours. Only make an opportunity of such things, and I will take no time away from your pitiful lives,” stated the skull, narrowing his ruby jeweled eyes.

  “Thank you for your concern. What you say, you cannot do; for you are weak with the curse of another. Yet, we have a weapon much more of value than your simple covenant,” spoke another elderly figure, her voice being slightly lower than the other woman.

  “Witches of Portendens, the time has come to which we will retrieve the lost bone of enchantment! No longer will the curse be upon us! Sacrifiction is key, it is tradition!” the witch in front of the five spoke as she smiled wickedly in her stance. The cat let out a long cry of torture, much for the individuals in front of it than for itself.

  “It shall be as you say,” stated the king as he withdrew the bone finger from its hidden position.

  “That wand of bone has no effect on us,” spoke the same hoary witch as she moved her eyes in an odd manner, “We are blessed in several ways, especially by the woman you hold in your hands.” She smiled once again, this time showing a set of rotten green teeth beneath the gap of her dehydrated lips.

  The king did not waste time putting the finger away; instead he retrieved his axe from his side, throwing it with great effort at the woman in front of him. He watched, only to find the witch quickly lifting her hand in the air while enchanting strong words. A sheet of thin ice formed in front of her body as the axe froze in its stance. Slowly small cracks enabled the axe’s return to the hand that had thrown it.

  Glacies and the others were quick to act upon the enchantments of the others. Glacies hastily aimed her arrows at the woman who closed in on them, only to find that each arrow missed its target. It was quite frustrating to think that their acts of attack were merely actions of defense as they slowed their predators from reaching them. There was not much Invicta and Magni could do, only to recite certain wording to cause a thick mist to form around them. It was not certain if the mist was to protect them or act as an entryway for the witches’ bodies to pass through.

  But a hand was quick to pull Glacies backwards as she fell upon the ground in a familiar place she had walked upon. Soft screeches from the stairs disappeared as she was dragged backwards to the other side of the interior. She only saw shadows and the thick fog that overlaid the ancient hut. She knew Invicta was by her side, for she felt the armor clang against the cracked wood on the ground.

  Chapter 19

  Awakening