Deep beneath the Night lands, was a series of caverns, with catacombs that trailed off in many directions for miles. Twirling tunnels and spiraling termite like mounds, that led the way deep into the fabled lair, of Medusa. Here, is where the witches council usually meets, to discuss all things of their craft, and the ceremonies that are held on the marble alter. It is here that the sisters Three decided to bring Tempest, after capturing her from the Castle Haven. Right under the nose of her mother, grandmother and aunt, she was spirited away, after being defeated by the cruel mind games of Minerva. Oh how easy it had been, for the past truly came home to roost for the daughter of the Prince of Brax, and his Angel Princess. The essence of such a hybrid creature was one that would not only give the witches unbelievable beauty, but keep them alive well beyond that of what was the norm.
Laying unconcious, the limp body of Tempest was stretched out, with minions, servants of the witches tying her down in place, while the sisters were busy readying themselves for the ritual. Having removed their old garbled gowns that had been out of fashion for many a century, they were trying to squeeze into garments that would suit their new forms.
Ethel, was having the worst luck, as her bosoms were way too big for her gown.
“Couldn’t we get dressed up AFTER we drink her essence? I feel like I am going to split the seams.”
“Nonsense…this is how it is done. Just…suck in your breath and hold it.” Delilah argued, as Ethel did just that and..held her breath.
Portia was still nursing a sore arm, after being blasted by that annoying Throne, Rashna. “I hope this essence works on burn marks. I swear this is going to scar.” Portia was very vain when it came to her looks, and then she heard a dull thud, as she was getting into her brand new dress.
“Delilah…Ethel just hit the floor.” Sure enough, she had kept her breath in too long, and passed out from lack of oxygen. Delilah looked at the witch on the floor and tuttered. “She had to take me literally. Dumb bitch of witch. Oh…get a minion to tip a bucket of water on her when the time comes.” Portia shrugged, and went back to grooming in front of the mirror.
Outside, the skies were showing an ominous colour, as those of magic were speaking of the turning tide of power. It seemed evil had the upper hand…or did it?
Eyes…were watching.
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Vast…quiet…not quite a void…but not quite the normal realm. A state between Here and There.
Philippe lay, his head resting on his foreclaws, eyes closed. His dreams…were dark and twisted. Centered around his beloved Tempest.
He growled menacingly, smoke pouring from his nostrils as he began to sense something not quite right.
She was in pain, but he could not sense if it was physical or emotional. It was as if she was being purposely blocked from him.
“Tempest…where are you? I will come to you!” he sent to her. All he got in return was a sense of desolation and panic. An image formed in his mind, of a young man, a Fae, dressed in armour. Who was he to Tempest? Was he to be her salvation.
“Something is wrong.” he rumbled, yellowed eyes slowly opening. A raven, eyes as black as coal landed before him and he watched warily. Suddenly in a flash of black smoke, the raven transformed to that of a woman. She was draped from head to toe in billowing robes of gray, as if they were made from storm clouds. She stared upon Philippe, gaze dark and piercing.
She opened her mouth but no words were spoken aloud. They resonated deep within his mind.
Child of Night and of Day
Whispers upon the wind doth say
Shall she pass from within the realm she dwell
All shall be lost to the flames of Hell.
One doth come, dark of Night
Upon his steed of purest white
Rescue doth maiden, two worlds of faire
Fae, Angel, Demon, realms do share.
The words now spoken, the woman turned back into a raven and flew away, vanishing into the Nothing.
“A prophecy.” Philippe murmured, the words etched into his memory. He had a feeling that this man, the Fae, was the key. Focusing on the image, Philippe vanished on the spot.
Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death. ~Coco Chanel
The first thing she felt was the cold. Not the kind of cold that comes from being in subarctic temperatures. This was something much deeper, an internal cold that made her feel as if she would never be warm again.
Her sense of hearing returned next, cackling, harsh voices intruding on her from all directions.
“Couldn’t we get dressed up AFTER we drink her essence? I feel like I am going to split the seams.”
Where was she? What had happened? As she became aware, so did the memories return. Facing the witches in her grandfather’s kingdom…Minerva…the pain of being blocked from her power…and the overwhelming guilt. Minerva’s words came back to haunt her.
“EVERYTHING THAT HAS HAPPENED…the destruction of your parent’s marriage…the war…all BECAUSE OF YOU!”
And it was the truth. A tear slid down her cheek as she slowly opened her eyes. She found herself chained to a marble slab, firelight flickering from dozens of wall sconces around the large room.
“She had to take me literally. Dumb bitch of witch. Oh…get a minion to tip a bucket of water on her when the time comes.”
She turned her head and saw the three witchly sisters, one of whom was passed out on the floor for some reason or another.
“Where am I? Why have you brought me here?” she whispered, her throat dry from disuse for so long, alerting the witches to her state of awareness.
Delilah was putting the finishing touches to her dress, when she heard the rasping voice of Tempest, as it appeared she had roused from her sleep. Grinning, she wriggled her finger for Portia to follow her. Portia was busy brushing her hair, and Delilah actually had to thump her to get her attention.
“The girl is waking up. Come on.”
“So soon?…thought she would be out for hours. When can we perform the ceremony again?”
“Midnight…and that is still a good while away. But it will be so worth it.” Delilah said with an evil grin, creeping up towards the marble alter, and wringing her gnarled hands, as she looked down at her prize. Clearly the girl had no idea where she was, or why she was brought there. Time to tell the whole story.
“Medusa’s lair….the center point of the Council of Witches, deep within the Night lands.” Delilah said with a twisted grin, her devious looking eyes drinking in Tempest’s form. “As to why you are here…well, you are the guest of honour at a special ceremony for my sisters and I. Your essence is highly potent, and enough to make each of us youthful and beautiful. Giving us all a new lease on life, while…you lose yours of course.”
Ethel had finally woken up and was rubbing the back of her head as she sat up. She could hear Delilah talking to the girl, and then grumbled. “If you start without me, so help me…..” Her chubby digits curling into fists, as she got to her feet. Portia glanced between her sisters, as they looked to have a spat.
“So help me? Are you…threatening me, Ethel?” Delilah said with a scowl, as she pushed up her sleeves. The sisters were known to fight, but you would think they could go a day without it. Portia piped up.
“Sisters…aren’t you forgetting that we need to work together to do the ritual? I mean, I really want to have her essence too, but if we are going to start fighting now…”
“Oh shut up!” Ethel and Delilah chorused, before they started to bicker again.
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Tempest stared at them all as she processed this information. So she was going to die, so that they could live? Sounded like a fair trade to her…for she had nothing left to live for. Her father loathed her, her mother, brother, aunt and her grandparents were probably dead. And Sirus…
She didn’t want to think of him. She’d rather die knowing the last pleasant memory she had of him had been that kiss he had given her.
Another tear leaked from her eye as she nodded mutely.
“So be it.” she murmured, turning her head away from them. All the fight had gone out of her. And she could no longer hear Philippe. She was truly alone.
The three witches were so busy arguing, that none of them heard Tempest murmer. In fact, they weren’t even looking at her at all. Portia rolled her eyes, and threw her hands up, as Ethel snarled at Delilah.
“Last child you got first dibs. Now…I firmly believe that I get the first breath.”
“Has the years dulled your mind, Ethel? I am positive it was YOU that got dibs last time.”
“It was definitely you!” Ethel gave her sister Delilah a really hard poke in the right bosom, which had her practically fall back. The red flame haired witch snarled angrily and picked up her wand off the nearest table, pointing it at her sister’s head.
“You dare to strike my bosom…You shall pay!” She growled angrily and then waved her wand, pointing it at her sister and screaming. “Potus…Plantus!”
and sure enough Ethel was turned into a humble house plant, in a very striking pot.
Portia froze in her place and then chewed her bottom lip.
“Uhm…she’s a plant.”
“Till midnight…yes!”
“Uhm…bit mean isn’t it?”
“You fancy being a cactus?”
“Oh…heh…have I ever told you how gorgeous you are today?”
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She was alone. Maybe that was the way it was supposed to be.
Tired of listening to the argument, she turned her head and glared.
“Will you all just be quiet? You’re giving me a bleeding headache for Heaven’s sake!” she snarled in anger. “I don’t even know why you’re arguing about me in such a way. You’re all going to have a piece of me inside of you, so why the flipping arguing? You act like you’re all little children, fighting over a toy. Just stop already.”
By the end of her rant, the anger that had quickly taken her over vanished just as fast and she sighed, turning her head away from them.
“I’m going to die, either way, so who cares who gets first dibs.” she repeated, closing her eyes. She was just tired of the whole thing. She just wanted to sleep in peace.
For a girl that was destined to die by midnight, Tempest Brax still had a bit of fight left in her. Sickened by the Witches petty arguing, she gave them a serve, that got both Delilah and Portia’s attention.
Will you all just be quiet? You’re giving me a bleeding headache for Heaven’s sake!”
Portia picked up the pot plant and brought it closer to the marble alter, setting it down as she listened with interest to the young Princess have her rant.
“I don’t even know why you’re arguing about me in such a way. You’re all going to have a piece of me inside of you, so why the flipping arguing? You act like you’re all little children, fighting over a toy. Just stop already.”
“Well don’t look at me, I’m not the pot plant.*she pointed at Delilah.* “They started it. I’m just here for the essence.”Portia said with a nod, then leaned forward, as Delilah scowled at her slightly younger sister.
“What did you say? You’re just here for the essence?” Delilah didn’t like what she was hearing, and Portia cursed under her breath for being so foolish to speak her mind.
“Did I say that? Ooo no. I meant, I was here to help my sisters do the ritual and….share in the essence.”
It seemed that each of the witches wanted more than their fair share of Tempest’s essence. Delilah was ready to raise her wand at her, but Portia had a quick retort.
“Before you blast me into a cactus plant, remember, you need both Ethel and me to do the ritual. Hard to do that if we are all plants, isn’t it?” Least she seemed to have a brain in that blonde haired head of hers, and Delilah lowered her wand, still glaring. Portia let out a sigh of relief, then smiled brightly at Tempest, patting her forehead.
“You are right about one thing…you are going to die. No man alive is interested in you enough to save you. They are all too busy fighting that silly war. Pfft. Men…I tell ya.”
Little did Portia know, that a man did care…and was on his way.
<3>
And so the three riders rode their horse as fast as they could, thundering across the blood soaked plains of the Night lands. Many thousands of demon and orc had been slain, with their bloated corpses left to rot, when the King of Brax called the retreat. It was hard to understand just why the Demon army was called back, when they had the upper hand during the dawn raid. But only few knew that the Queen of Casterly had been kidnapped by the evil Minerva and her bitch sisters. It was those same sisters, who now held the Princess Tempest in their clutches, readying to do the ritual that would end her life, so that they may lengthen theirs, and have incredible beauty.
The Prince had the prophecy spoken to him by Phillipe the Dragon and then they shared a common link, which showed the Prince the path that would lead him to his beloved Princess. Spurred on by this knowledge, he knew that he was on borrowed time, and that he must ride this white gift; the white horse as fast as the wind. The horse seemed to know the urgency, and didn’t miss a beat as it powered through the countryside. Klaus and Dathon were having a difficult time catching up to the Prince.
Poor Klaus was really riding rough in the saddle of his Clysdale, which jostled him about something fierce. It would be no surprise, that the poor squire would not be able to sit for a week after this journey. Every so often, the Prince would glance back over his shoulder at the other riders and cry out;
“Hurry…the horses will rest soon enough, but we must reach Medusa’s lair by sunset.”
Yes, he knew the name of the place where she was held. Being a dark creature, he was one that would easily be able to enter the enchanted tunnels. It would be a treacherous and dangerous trek within, for the council was held deep within its bowels, with many traps and false doors, that lined the route to the center.
The Prince was her only hope. A man that truly loved her for who she was, non judgmental. They were so alike, and defiant, it would be fitting that they were destined to be together.
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The blonde-haired witch seemed to be the smartest of the three, which Tempest found a little odd, considering what was about to happen.
Of course now the two remaining got into an argument about something else. Tempest rolled her eyes and went back to staring at the cavernous ceiling.
“You are right about one thing…you are going to die. No man alive is interested in you enough to save you. They are all too busy fighting that silly war. Pfft. Men…I tell ya.” the blonde stated, patting Tempest on her head as if she were some wayward child (oh the irony!).
Now that was just rubbing salt into an open wound. Why did people feel the need to remind her of things she could not change?
Two witches and one potted plant continued to argue and moved away from Tempest to do what they needed to do, leaving the young woman to her lonely thoughts.
High above, in the darkness and shadows…was one who would possibly bring her salvation. Never straying far from his mistress and loyal as always, Francois was as indistinguishable as any other crow and bat that lined the walls of the witches lair. She may have forgotten of his presence, or there was magic blocking him from their bond, but either way, Francois now had a mission…to bring someone to save his mistress. With a silent flap of his wings, he was airborne, off to search for help for his mistress.
They had rode hard for many leagues, till finally reaching the foot hills of the Mountain of Medusa. The white horse finally slowed, and then came to a stop before a massive forest. It was dark and ominous with the sounds of the creatures of the night, praising the sullen moon. Nightfall had come, and now they must hurry if they are to save the child of light and dark.
Prince Sirus dismounted, as the white horse pawed at the earth, its head nodding as though to say that this was it.
“The entrance to the Lair must be through this forest.” Sirus said with conviction, while Klaus finally came up behind the white horse on his enormous Clysdale. He looked pained, and in a way relieved that he didn’t have to ride his horse further.
“I see a track, Sire.” Klaus pointed out between a large rock and old oak tree, a path that was lined with small pebbles. It had to be it. Sirus watched Klaus dismount awkwardly, and then he rubbed his swollen behind. “I have never had my backside slapped so hard and often as I have riding that horse.” The horse neighed and nudged the poor squire, who was something of a tag a long in this quest to free Tempest.
“It’s getting dark. How on earth are we to see?” Klaus whined, and Sirus simply shook his head. “You are fae…you can see in the dark, you know.” Klaus was about to say something in retort, but then held up a finger and said. “Oh yeah…oops.”
Sirus looked to Dathon, and asked.
“Forgive me for not bringing food or water. Hopefully, after we seize the Princess, we can find a nice inn or tavern.”
Did he forget, this was the Night lands. He was in hostile territory, and probably wouldn’t be welcome. Optimistic as ever, he got ready to head into the forest and find the entrance to the witches lair.
<3>
Francois flew what seemed for miles, dodging in and out of the tree line and soaring over the tops, looking down upon the lands with keen and intelligent eyes.
Something pale white caught his attention and he realized it was a horse. He dived for a closer look.
As it turned out, it wasn’t one pale horse, but one pale horse and two others, all with riders upon their backs. The scent of the one upon the pale horse seemed familiar to Francois and he flew closer, flying so close to the head of the lead rider, it ruffled his hair.
But he caught the full scent of the man in the lead and recognized him as the one who had taken in his mistress in Fae lands.
With a raucous caw, he landed on a nearby branch at the edge of the woods, aiming to get his attention.
At the arrival of the Raven, its raucous caw alerts the white Horse that help is at hand. Raising her head she whinnies loudly, pawing at the ground to get Sirus’s attention. Sirus who happens to have been addressing Dathon and Klaus about his hopes, hears both the horse and the raven, and turns to see for himself.
“Oh look…it’s a crow.” Klaus says, thinking nothing much of the common black bird.“Why it’s got the horse spooked, I will never know.” The thing was the horse wasn’t spooked, just trying to alert her master as to what the bird was trying to convey.
“It’s a raven, Klaus.” Sirus answered, now watching the horse, who was getting excited about it. Was this a sign? He went to pat the horse’s neck, and whispered to her. “Whoa, steady girl, its just a raven.” But at this, the horse reared up, as it became bathed in a strange mystical glow. Slowly changing its form from that of the white horse, to a beautiful woman with flowing white hair, and dressed in an elaborate gown of the finest silk. The dress sparkled, and reflected the moon light. At the end of the transformation, she let out a happy sigh, holding up her hands and looking at her fingers, as she wiggled them.
“Francois….I thought you would never find us. Now I am me again.” The lady in white said, spinning around and admiring her gown. Flashing a grin, she then spotted Sirus, and curtseyed politely. “Forgive me, Sire…just oh the feeling to be on two feet again. Not that I didn’t mind you riding me, I mean…heh, what girl wouldn’t.” She seemed to be babbling, and then skipped over to Klaus’s mount, the massive Clysdale, and spoke a small enchantment, that had the Clysdale morph and change into a large servant woman, or so she seemed, with a tight bun, and the biggest boobs you ever did see. She muttered and huffed, then shot a glare at Klaus. “You…seriously need to lose some weight!.”
The woman in white giggled and slapped Klaus’s forearm, before saying in a happy voice. “Oh don’t mind Gertie, she is a bit grumpy this time of month. Besides, I like chunky men. Gives me something to hang on to. Love handles galore!”
Sirus thought the world had gone mad. His horse had changed into a chatty woman, and the big draught horse into a germanic looking woman, with huge breasts.
“What…is going on?” Sirus asked, as the woman in white actually stopped her gay romp, since she started picking wild flowers.
“Oh…Sire forgive me, we are the White Witches of Vaas. Good ones, I assure you, but witches none the less. I am Willow, and this is my sister Gertie. We were sent to help you, and as you see….here is Francois. I believe he is a guardian of your Tempest.” Sirus looked incredulously at Willow, as she started to nom on a daisy’s head. She still had horsey tendancies.
“Does the raven talk?” Sirus asked, getting closer to the bird, as Willow skipped along behind him.
“Talks to me…maybe if you said…hello? Or…where is Tempest?”
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“Does the raven talk?” Sirus asked, getting closer to the bird, as Willow skipped along behind him.
Francois looked at the White Witches, head cocked as they conversed.
“Talks to me…maybe if you said…hello? Or…where is Tempest?”
All eyes were suddenly on Francois. He seemed to do what amounted to a sigh before his form blurred into that of a young man. He had dark hair and dark, brooding eyes but he was very handsome. He stared at Willow.
“That was supposed to be our secret, Willow of Vaas.” the man stated in an accented voice. He turned those intelligent eyes upon Sirus and executed a respectful bow. “Greetings Sirus of Laegess. I am Francois, the Lady Tempest’s bonded familiar. Rest assured, I have no designs on the young Princess. I was sent to her when she was a child to be her guardian. And as she has stated,” Francois pointed a hand at Willow, “I can take you to where she is being held. I must warn you…she is to be sacrificed by the Witches of the Night Lands at midnight tonight, when the moon is full. She does not fight, for she has lost the will to live.” Francois stated.
Seeing Francois take his human form, Willow gave a little clap and bounced where she stood. Always one that thought highly of Francois, she got a thrill every time he changed into his human self. Course, he seemed nonplussed that she had given away the secret that he can in fact talk.
That was supposed to be our secret, Willow of Vaas.” Oh that sultry voice of his. It could make a maiden sing with her heart filled with joy. Course, she knew him well enough that when he was not pleased, and she hid in behind Sirus for a moment. Sure, she was a witch of Vaas, but she was also a guardian of the Prince. “I thought no harm in telling, besides I know that you would have seen Tempest.” Course, she was absolutely correct.
“Greetings Sirus of Laegess. I am Francois, the Lady Tempest’s bonded familiar. Rest assured, I have no designs on the young Princess. I was sent to her when she was a child to be her guardian.”
“And such a handsome one.” Willow chimed in with a sweet voice, before quietening again as she ate another daisy flower.
Sirus was still coming to terms with the fact his horse was a white witch, and a very good looking man was a guardian to his beloved. Though the news this man offered, only increased his urgent need to find Tempest…and quickly.
“Francois, if you know where she is being held, please tell us.”
“I can take you to where she is being held. I must warn you…she is to be sacrificed by the Witches of the Night Lands at midnight tonight, when the moon is full. She does not fight, for she has lost the will to live.”
At this Willow gasped, nearly choking on her daisy. Sirus’s face looked to grow dark with anger…anger that the foul witches of Brax would dare to harm his beloved Tempest. Sirus cried out to those with him.
“She may have lost the will to fight…but we are here to fight for her. Francois, lead us to her, before the moon is at its peak.”
.gif)
Klaus, Gertie, Dathon and Willow all fell in behind him, ready to take on the wicked witches of Brax.
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