WitchHunter

You were destined for glory

For honor and fame

I was bred for the bullet

To be a gun with no name

No one knows how or why the Lochri came into being. Some believe it was the work of gods. Others, many, many others, believe they are spawned from something much darker. The first appearance, a Lumous baby girl, was born nearly eight centuries ago, shining brightly as if a star had been placed in her chest just before being thrust into this hellscape of a world.

After her, others. The Cinderous, Squallous, Terrous, and Aquaous. Those who control fire, wind, earth, and water. The Lumous who have seemingly little ability outside of their luminescence, their skin glowing brightly, lit by the sun, and the Without, monsters who creep about in the darkness, waiting to steal away anything of value. I can identify with those monsters. After all, how different am I? Wrapped up in my mottled black and grey cloak, at home in the shadows where no one can see.

Many Lochri are born with their curse; others grow into it, discover what they are as they age, and try to hide it, or worse, use it to bring about chaos and destruction. That’s where the WitchHunters come in. WitchMasters, appointed by the king and given full authority over their domain, run WitchHunters’ guilds, housing and feeding only the most formidable men whose duty it is to hunt down and destroy the Lochri. It is their duty to rid the world of this poison, this unnatural fiendishness that threatens the order we have held for centuries.

One such guild, locally called Fortress, is the place I call home, or at least as much of a home as I’ve had since my family sold me to Menagerie when I was just a child. Though, my job title isn’t WitchHunter. I’m something far more sinister.

My name is Alice Spade, and I’m their Ace.