(Hey guys, make sure to check out the second story after you are finished with this one. "Wielders of Magic, Book 2: The Trinity". You can find it under #darkmagic as well. -Red Witch)
The Spellbinder Family were scattered to the wind once the Witch Hunters came. They were small then, young and new, not knowing the terrible world they lived in. Now that they have a taste of that world, and know that they are feared, always being hunted and destroyed at every turn, they begin to realize this cannot go on if they are ever to have a family of their own. The Spellbinders have the power to change that world, to destroy all those who had wronged them and create a better world for their decedents.
One of them will rise to power, and they will change the world with a touch of a finger; old ways that lay dormant for centuries. Magic will be reunited with steal, for the left hand can not do without the right . . .
His hands were nimble, with long, skilled fingers that guided a raven quill along a paper with grace. He did this every night, copying documents and poems, papers and story's etc. He wasn't paid very well, but the money was enough to keep him in his own house.
"I am grateful for your . . ." He said softly to himself, his hand writing with incredible speed along the paper as his chocolate brown eyes read the document. It was given to him by the mayor of the town, who was always suspicious of his talents. This didn't stop him from doing business with Jackson though; he had many important things to do and didn't have much time to copy his papers out himself. Paying someone to do it took away a lot of stress, and the warlock was the only one in town who would do it.
But if his true nature was ever found out, no one would be doing business with him. No one would be doing anything with him at all; he would be burned alive without a second thought. As you may have guessed, wielders of magic were not permitted in the town, for any reason.
Punishable by death.
Jackson's speed started to increase as he neared the end of his work, excited at the thought of bed, and sleep. His writing was starting to become sloppy, but that didn't stop him, he just wanted to be done!
At this pace, one had to be very concentrated . . .
"Mr. Splendor!" A voice shouted, fists wrapping against his door loudly. Jackson's hand flew across the page and smeared everything, knocking over his bottle of ink as well and spilling it all over his desk.
He sat and stared at it, silently cursing.
"What in the name of the Abyss do you want!?" He got up, throwing his chair across the floor and storming over to the door, yanking it open. Three armored men stood in its wake, each bearing a weapon that could kill him in an instant.
He gulped. "Uh . . . yes?"
"The mayor has sent us to search your home." The one in the middle stated, his hand going to his sword hilt. "Strange sightings of magic have been seen in the city, and we are investigating before more people are hurt."
Jackson's mind jumped back to three days ago, analyzing his movements and activities, searching for a slip of the hand, a wrong word said, something that would have caused a burst of unintended magic; but he found none.
"Can we come in please?"
"Oh, yes of course!" He chuckled nervously and moved out of the way, letting the three enter his relatively small home. "I hope you find whoever - . . . what was hurt?"
"Eight people and two children. Five dead," He turned his eyes on him. "One of them a child."
Jackson gulped again. Where did he mess up? He searched his thoughts, baffled at the amount of people who had died. It had to be him, only he could do something so terrible with a single lift of his finger. But if it wasn't, it had to be another magic wielder in the town.
His heart skipped a beat at the thought.
"What’s this?" One of the men, dressed in copper armor, pulled out a large book. He blew the dust off of it and read the title. ". . . Incantations, and Tricks of the Hand . . . the Arts of-" He sucked in his breath, dropping it to the floor. "Magic!" The book suddenly disappeared, making them all gasp in horror.
The witch hunters whipped around, weapons drawn, only to find Jackson gone, and the room cleared of all its belongings. One note lay on the table, written in black ink upon yellowed paper.
The leader of the group, Merivilous, picked it up, read it, and then crushed it in his hand. He shouted angrily and slammed his fist on the table, cracking it down the middle. "We are fools! Come on, lets’ go alert the mayor! You got his face right?" He turned and looked at the female of the group.
"Sure did. Every time." Lilith took a paper from her clip board and held it in front of him; a flawless drawing of Jackson Splendor. "I'll have it copied and spread throughout the town along with its neighbors."
"Good, do that." He nodded and looked over to his brother. "Tiranous, you come with me. Lilith, you know what to do." The two brothers walked out of the place, mounting their horses and riding off into the street, going to tell the mayor of what they had seen.
Lilith picked up the note, unfolding it and grinning as she read. You people think you can catch a Warlock, but once you find one you never know what to do with yourselves.
"Oh, you just wait Mr. Splendor; we were caught off guard for a moment." She crumpled it up again, setting it ablaze with her hand and throwing it to the floor. "We will find you, and we will kill you."
She had had magic all her life, and what better way to hide than to hunt her fellow magicians? It would illuminate her competitors as well, when the time arose that warlocks and witches would arise again.
She was as black as the magic she possessed.
The house went up in flames, and Lilith didn't turn a blind eye to see her work. She had done it many times before, and was all too familiar with the sight.
(Two days ago . . .)
"Hello miss, what can I get you today? Your name maybe?"
"Oh no, just a loaf. Wheat if you don't mind." Drusilla stood at the counter of Bearton's Breads, a heavy black robe draped over her slender form, hiding her beautiful white wings and shadowing her strange colored eyes. She didn't want to attract any attention to herself in this town, especially when posters of her face littered the streets, crying out to everyone to find the "Red Witch". She had had some unpleasant experiences with the neighboring towns, ones that left some people either hurt or dead. She didn't want to think of it now, not while she was trying to hide everything about her.
"Here you are Miss, one loaf of wheat bread." Bearton handed over the goods in a paper bag, eyeing her, trying to spot a crack in her shell of protection. "Why are you so . . . silent, my lady?"
"I am not your lady, and I am what I am." She nodded in thankfulness, handing him his money and exiting the place. She walked along the streets with her hood down low, trying not to draw eyes to her. She wanted everyone to just leave her alone, not to stare at her as if she was a . . .
Well, a murderer.
Oh but she was, and she knew it. Her form would give someone the impression that she was an Angel, but behind that form was a devastating sleeping dragon that was just waiting to be awakened. She couldn't tame it, she didn't know how, so all she did was avoid any kind of risky activities.
But sometimes, her anger would just slip out of her grasp, flying off into the sky until she could not reach it any longer. The Abyss was the only word to describe the feeling.
"Hey, who is this?" A man with a cane appeared beside her as she walked through a dark ally, poking her left thigh as two large men exited the buildings, surrounding her.
Drusilla sucked in her breath, clutching her bread tightly.
"Oh," The short man put his cane up to her face, pushing her low cowl off of her head and letting her strawberry hair flow down around her shoulders. "Oh! Well aren't you a beauty?"
The Red Witch started to talk hurriedly, trying to walk past them. "Please, let me go, you don't know what you’re getting into-"
One of the large men wrapped his hand around her mouth, almost crushing her. She tried to cry out, only he squeezed with more force. The other come up behind her and took a firm hold on her black robes, ripping them from her.
Drusilla shrieked, a giant shock wave slamming into the three men and throwing them into the walls of the buildings on either side of the ally. They all slid down to the ground with a groan, the houses shaking and large cracks spidering up their frames.
The Red Witch gasped, watching in horror as they slowly started to topple over into the ally. She screamed and flapped her giant wings, hurriedly flying out of the tight space as bricks fell down behind her, burying the three men before they could escape.
Drusilla fell out into the street, her feet being hit by a falling piece of stone and throwing her off. Her wings hit hard on the dirt and her face ate it, dust flying up around her, as she lay lifeless.
Everyone gasped. "Witch!" Someone cried, others joining in and scattering the place as the authorities began to show up.
"Get up!" A man shouted, pointing a spear at her back. Slowly Drusilla got up, beaten and battered by the falling bricks and burned by sliding through the street. Her white dress had been torn at the end, at least covering up the blood stains that had been there before. Unfortunately, though, her white boots were not, and were still splattered with blood from her last encounter in the town before.
This time, she feared, would be no different.
"Please, stay away!" She cried, wiping the blood, from a cut on her face, away with her hand. "You will be killed!"
"Put your hands up, witch, before I cut them off!" Another man started to advance towards her along with three others, all wielding spears.
"Please, I cannot control it!" Drusilla sobbed, tears making streams down her dirt covered face. One of the men stabbed at her with his weapon, making her jump back and be cut by one behind her. She screamed and another shock wave blew the crowd away, crushing their internal organs and killing every last one of them.
The Red Witch stared in horror at her deeds and shrieked, covering her mouth in unbelievable agony. She had to flee before others came to try and destroy her, before they came to die!
Drusilla took to the sky, her wings a little hurt but not enough to stop her flight. She had to leave before everyone was killed, before all died at her uncontrolled hand.
If only she could control it. If only she knew, what wonderful magic she possessed that was continually covered up by the devastation.
She would one day, she just had to meet someone first, someone like herself. What she didn't know was that she was closer to meeting that person than ever before, and that good days were ahead.
Well, good days for a while anyway . . .