Anything But Ordinary

The air is thick with death. Rich iron laced the air and painted the ground red, as organs and bloody bones laid askew. 

Words intangible, bloody hands draw symbols into the ground, burning and etching with each mutter. They glow a golden hue and the wailing screams of the souls used to fuel this dark power burn away. Unable to return to Mother Nature, no longer can they reunite with their loved ones.

Milky white eyes swirl as they continue to enchant their dark magic, hands red and raw against the ground as they draw and the light from the flames dies.

She lets out a blood-curdling scream, ripping herself from the ground, kicking the array of organs, picking up the fresh bloody bones and smashing them towards the ground with a residing crack.

“Agatha!” she screams. A young woman pops her head from the corner, hiding behind the rocky face of the cavern wall. “Come. Here.” She hunches into her body as she approaches carefully. Trying her best to avoid the scattered remains of animals and various humans.

Her stomach churns, the smell of iron and rot encroaches closer to her nostrils. Becoming harder and harder to ignore with each step.

“Y-yes mistress,” she bows.

“Why is there not a single a sacrifice in your hand? when I call for you, it means I need another.”

“Y-yes mistress, I understand but.”

“But what!?” she flinches.

“There is no more, you have used them all.” Without another word the Magiq snatches Agathas hand, pulling her closer to the circle. She fights and begs to be freed but it all falls on deaf ears as she unsheathes her knife and slices into the palm.

Blood pools and flows onto the ground with heavy drops and the sigils light up and knife in the Magiqs hand glows but only for a short second before it fails once more.

She throw Agatha to the ground, throwing the blade and watch is break against the rock wall.

“I need souls more potent. Ones that are not weak.” Agatha curls into a ball, holding her wounded hand and mumbles a small spell to stop the bleeding. “Find something more suitable or it will be you soul on the line, understood?” she nods, scrambling to her feet and running out from the cavern.

The magiq looks back to the mess of bones and blood. Looking over the knife she had used, hoping to see a faint glimmer but nothing. “Pray child that I find the Arma and not use you to make a new one.”