Wither

Spoiler

Author's note: Please don't take anything away from this story, other than that it is simply a story. I am a Christian, nothing more, nothing less. Thanks!

The witch, Wither, fled through the doors of the old church house. Her black skirts trailed behind her as she ran, sweeping like shadows across the ground. The heavy oak doors opened to a murky sanctuary. Small tears of silver light tumbled in through the narrow windows, but an inescapable darkness clung to the floors and distant walls.

The altar before Wither was dimly lit, with long slender stalks of candles scattered across the shrine. The flames left the altar glowing in a flickering, bloody light. Wither felt uneasy within the sanctuary as dancing shadows beckoned her from the corners of the house.

A church was no place for a witch.

As Wither neared the altar, she noticed a towering gentleman leaning over a large book, reading. She cautiously approached the shadowy man, who had been seemingly risen from the lingering darkness amongst the shrine. Wither began to recognize him. It was Pride.

Wither opened her lips and her whisper hissed through the air. “Pride.” Her voice seemed to settle upon his shoulders, making him tremble. Pride turned and lowered his face to Wither. He flashed a bewitching grin. Pride’s dark stare grazed her with what she thought appeared to be hunger.

Wither had a slender, gracious face. Her wide green eyes were the color of sea glass. Her dark red hair fell down her back to her hips in glossy waves like blood. She was thin, pale, and beautiful, and the men of the village were very aware of it. Especially Pride.

The intriguing Pride was an extraordinarily tall, lanky figure with broad shoulders. He wore a black frock coat, a gray vest, slacks, and leather boots. Standing upon the altar, he was a figure of power and authority. He could have been a priest.

Pride’s short blonde hair was cut close to his skull. He had a long, bony face that was as pale as ashes. His eyes were dark and glimmered beneath the light of the candles. His sharp nose and round, chiseled chin framed his lips. Wither could not read his expression.

“Darling, I am most glad you arrived.” His voice slithered through his lips like a serpent, enveloping her in its allure. His eyes danced in the urgent flames of the candles. Wither could see an old, leather-bound grimoire in his sturdy hands. She was always fascinated by the magical book of his.

Wither gave a quick curtsy and bowed her head. “I would never abandon you.” She straightened herself and her eyes narrowed. “But might I ask why you invited me into a church?”

Pride chuckled, still gazing intently upon Wither. The muscles in his face twitched as he smiled. “You’re not just going to find the Devil in cellars and forests, dear. Lucifer goes to church, too.”

Wither arched her brow. “It doesn’t make much sense to me.” She tried to picture a demon sitting within the pews and benches, listening to the priest’s sermons. As she thought, she realized that many demons entered the church. Perhaps not so much of supernatural forces, but surely hypocrites, whores, thieves, and killers sat before the altar every week. Not to mention witches. Wither grinned.

Pride shrugged. “The Devil works in mysterious ways.” For a fleeting moment, Wither thought she saw something sinister flash within Pride’s eyes. “Now, to business,” he said.

He handed the large grimoire to Wither with a sweep of his arm. She was forced to rest it upon the rail of the altar because of its weight. She bowed her head to kiss the face of the book. The leather was cracked and mildewed. As her lips brushed against it, she thought she could almost sense a pulse within the pages.

Pride, still towering over her, whispered. “Turn to the page I have marked for you, dear.” Wither was not looking at him as she was flipping through the pages, but she knew he was smiling.

“Page six, six, six?” Wither looked up at Pride with curious eyes.

“Appropriate, isn’t it? Look at the text.” A disturbingly wicked grin was stretched across his face.

Wither’s eyes fell upon the page. She was suddenly bombarded with the contents of dark magic. Her frantic eyes grazed over the words. “You want me to kill a priest?” Her voice trembled and her hands quaked as she held the grimoire.

“Not just a priest. I want you to kill Minister Ethaniel.” Pride said. Wither lifted her gaze to look upon him. His eyes were black and hollow. For a moment, she thought she could see directly into his skull.

A chill crept up her spine. Her voice broke as she whimpered, “You’ve never wanted me to kill anyone before.” She backed away from the book so quickly, she nearly ripped the hem of her gown.

Upon Pride’s face, Wither caught a glimpse of rage. “Would you risk your duty by evading one simple task?”

Wither shook her head. Her eyes were glued to the grimoire. “Pride, this is beyond simple. This is extremely dark sorcery. And you’re asking me to kill the priest of this church.”

Suddenly, light flooded the altar. Wither whirled around and was blinded by the white light streaming through the open doors. In the midst of the brightness was the priest.

Ethaniel.

Light rested upon the shoulders of the young priest like the presence of the Holy Ghost. It enveloped him, brightening his face and eyes, making it appear that he wielded the very hand of God.

His dark hair was cut very short. His face was long, and angular. He had a powerful jaw line and wide gray eyes. His lips were parted, showing his gritted teeth.

Ethaniel was wearing a black frock coat, slacks, and boots. His white clerical collar was at the base of his throat where a vein pulsed on his neck. His coat whisked around his knees as he bounded down the aisle toward Wither.

“Wither, get away from him.” Ethaniel pointed at Pride and shouted. His rough voice echoed through the church but was swallowed by darkness.

Wither turned back to Pride who had snatched the book from the altar’s rail. In his hands, the grimoire suddenly turned to smoke. Ethaniel and Wither watched intently as the mist solidified upon his shoulder as a black crow.

“Get out of my church, demon.” Ethaniel said through clenched teeth. His sharp eyes were burning.

Pride’s dark stare turned toward Wither. “Darling, you know the spell.”

Ethaniel pulled a vial of holy water from his pocket. “What spell?”

Wither looked up at Ethaniel with narrow eyes. She hesitated and then whispered, as if the words hurt her. “The spell to kill you.” Wither felt as though secrets were pouring out of her, like blood spilling from slashed wrists.

“Wither, it is written in Scripture: ‘Ye cannot drink the cup of the Lord, and the cup of devils.’” Ethaniel kept his eyes upon Pride. “You can’t be doing this.”

Pride chuckled. It made his shoulders tremble. Then, his dark eyes flashed at Ethaniel. “It is also written: ‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.’” Pride pointed a finger at Wither.

Within a blink of an eye, Ethaniel pulled Wither away as a bolt of lightning ripped from Pride’s finger and tore through a bench, tossing it to the back of the church. The thunderclap crashed through the sanctuary.

Wither and Ethaniel fell to the floor together. She struggled to get to her feet. Her hair rippled around her face and her eyes darted toward Pride upon the altar. Confusion twisted her gut.

Ethaniel hurried upright and tossed the contents of a glass vial upon Pride’s face. The holy water seared his skin and hissed as if his flesh were molten metal. “You’re not just a witch.” Ethaniel said to Pride.

Pride bared his teeth and lifted his hand. Ethaniel was abruptly hurled through the air, down the aisle to the back of the church by an unseen force. He landed with a thud.

Wither struggled toward the altar, tripping on her long gown. This was not the Pride she knew. She yelled. “Your name! Give me your name!”

Pride turned to Wither and gazed upon her with wrathful black eyes. In a beastly voice, he said, “Satanas sum.” Wither recognized the language from the grimoire. It was Latin. I am Satan.

Wither’s eyes widened. “You’re the Dark Lord. You’re Lucifer.”

Ethaniel darted down the aisle to the altar with a mighty silver crucifix in hand. Before Satan could use any more magic, Ethaniel flashed the instrument before him as a barrier. Satan cringed away from it and the silver crucifix became red hot in the presence of the Devil, as if it were in a crucible.

Wither watched in awe as the crucifix began to glow cherry-red and started to melt in Ethaniel’s hands. The priest’s face began to wrinkle under some great strain, as if the cross had gained to weight of the world. He quickly dropped it before it could scald him. It fell to the floor in a twisted pile of glowing metal.

Satan straightened himself once the crucifix was gone. He growled, “My turn.” Satan grinned and with a flash of his eyes, Ethaniel’s clothes burst into flames. Wither shrieked.

Ethaniel screamed. The sound cut into Wither’s ears like thorns. He thrashed about, trying to take off his burning clothes. He whirled around hysterically, engulfed in red flames. Satan laughed as he watched.

“Lucifer! Stop this!” Wither pleaded, but Satan’s attention was affixed to the burning priest.

Ethaniel finally managed to tear through his burning coat and shirt, leaving his torso bare. Red, glossy burns stretched across his back and chest. Ethaniel’s screams of agony filled the church as he cringed under the heat of inescapable blisters. He panted and sweat glistened on his face. His clothes had turned to ashes upon the ground.

“You can’t kill a priest in the house of God, Satan. It can’t be done,” Ethaniel said. He was gritting his teeth in pain.

Satan nodded. “You’re right. But I can kill the witch.” Wither’s face wrinkled in horror.

Ethaniel’s eyes grew wide. “No! Wither, run!” But before he could move, Satan threw him to the ground with an invisible hand and pinned him there.

“Stay there, darling. You look exhausted.” Satan chuckled. He spat upon Ethaniel’s face. The priest whimpered as Satan whirled around to face Wither.

She began to back away. “No, please.” Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her face. Satan lifted his hand and threw her across the ground with magic. Her skirts fell about her as she crumbled upon the floor. Her long hair spilled around her face.

“The Devil works in mysterious ways.” Satan whispered. His breath settled into her bones like fire.

“I lived for you, Lucifer! I lived for you!” Wither shrieked. She could hear Ethaniel screaming her name. Satan stood above her. She tried to move but was paralyzed. He braced his boot upon the side of her head.

Satan laughed. “Then you will die for me.” And with the bottom of his boot, he crushed the witch’s skull.

Really cool idea and good description of the characters. I would also recommend some added description to the battle scene. Also, during the fight of Satan and Ethaniel, what is Whither doing? Try adding something in like: "Whither was immobilized with terror." Or something along those lines. I don't see anything major to fix, but I think this great idea and character development could use a little more description in the action. I think that this story is great and I am looking forward to seeing more

~Zephion~

Would you hurry up and publish your other book? I want to buy it!!!

Every story I read of yours is great! Fantastic job as always! I must say I am impressed with the ending. It was sad....and unexpected. I was hoping... but alas we don't always get what we hope for.

I love the way you use your names, they hold such a large amount of meaning. It makes the reader think.

Keep Writing,
~FW~

Awesome! The imagery was haunting, the characters intriguing, and the captivating. Overall a beautifully written piece. I am a Christian as well but I still loved it! You have descriptive superpowers!

Holy smokes, this is good!!! Let me just start out by say this was nothing like I expected it to be. Your desriptions rock. I felt like I could see each character completely clear. I was drawn right in. They were all so vivid. The story was spooky, scary, and creepy just as storys with the Devil and witches should be. Excellent message. My hat is off to you. Bravo.
~Dragongirl

Me gusta!
( I like)---->*likes*

If I can actually find anything to improve one later, I'll put it
>here<.

Keep Writing!
---------------
-Jojo

Hi there Hayden! =D

So, after reviewing that other piece of yours, I know you're pretty good with prose so I don't need to go super in-depth on this one. I'll be pointing out the things that bothered me, though.

Small tears of silver light tumbled in through the narrow windowslining the walls, but an inescapable darkness clung to the floors and distant walls.

I think in the beginning, you could afford to lose "lining the walls". This way, the word walls won't pop up twice in one sentence and disrupt the flow of your words.

Wither had a slender, gracious face. Her wide green eyes were the color of sea glass. Her dark red hair fell down her back to her hips in glossy waves like blood. She was thin, pale, and beautiful, and the men of the village were very aware of it.

I'm iffy of this paragraph. It sort of kills the action. Perhaps you could put it in later?

The altar before Wither was dimly lit, with long slender stalks of candles scattered across the shrine.

As Wither neared the altar, she noticed a towering, slender gentleman leaning over a large book, reading.

Word repetition.

She cautiously approached the shadowy man, who had been seemingly risen from the lingering darkness amongst the shrine.

Sentence comes across clunky. Revise, maybe?

Pride turned and lowered his face to Wither. He flashed a bewitching grin.

One, the word in orange strikes me because it's cute, but I'm afraid it comes across gimmicky. ^^"

Also, I'm not sure why his smile is bewitching if he's trembling. oo Also, in the next sentence, you can afford to lose beautiful.

And the paragraph after that can be put into the same paragraph as the one wherein you described Pride as beautiful. I find it's jarring to have two paragraphs cover him.

“You’re not just going to find the Devil in cellars and forests, dear. Lucifer goes to church, too.”

LOVE IT. <3 xD I want to quote it.

Wither giggled to herself.

It's kind of weird and anachronistic, given the nature of the piece and the tone so far. Plus, Wither doesn't quite strike me as the kind to giggle, especially in front of Pride.

For a fleeting moment, Wither thought she saw something sinister flash within Pride’s eyes.

You can do without the first bit. If it flashed, it was only there for a moment. :]

He handed the large grimoire to Wither with a sweep of his long arm.

I think your propensity for adjectives is showing itself again. oo"

The grimoire was very heavy and she was forced to rest it upon the rail of the altar.

This is way too much telling for one sentence, I think. You could also afford to phrase it better.

“Turn to page six hundred sixty-six.”

Way heavy-handed.

“Six, six, six?” Wither looked up at Pride with curious eyes. “The mark of the Beast.”

It's probably just me, but this came across too strong. oo" I'd tone it down a lot.

She was suddenly bombarded with the contents of dark magic.

Again, too obvious and heavy-handed. BUT I have a tendency to be super-vague, so take this with a grain of salt.

Wither whirled around and was blinded by the white light streaming through the open doors. A silhouette was all she could see amongst the brightness. As the figure approached and the doors of the church slowly closed behind it, she could recognize the new arrival. It was the priest.

Ethaniel.

Ahahahaaha no. oo' It totally kills the drama of this piece. o-o It's so cheesy. >.O"

He was a young priest, only in his mid-twenties. His dark hair was cut very short. His face was long, angular, and handsome. He had a powerful jaw line and wide gray eyes. His lips were parted, showing his gritted teeth.

The problem with describing people as good looking is that it seems everyone is good looking soon, and when this happens, well, good-looking is normal and not really good-looking, you get me? oo"

Ethaniel was wearing a black frock coat, slacks, and boots. His white clerical collar was at the base of his throat where a vein pulsed on his neck. His coat whisked around his knees as he bounded down the isle toward Wither.

Think about it. o-o Do I really need to know about what they're wearing? Does it help characterize them? No? No. Then no need for them. ^^"

Wither turned back to Pride, who had snatched the book from the altar’s rail.

Ethaniel pulled a vial of holy water from his pocket.

Wither looked up at Ethaniel with narrow eyes. She whispered, as if the words hurt her. “The spell to kill you.” Wither felt as though secrets were pouring out of her, like blood spilling from slashed wrists.

Don't like the metaphor, and I also think it's weird? o0 There doesn't seem to be any struggle against the urge to tell him.

He had tried to kill her.

Okay, one, you don't need to tell us cause we know it. ^^"

Two, why would he do that? :/ It kind of disappoints me to see that he doesn't really expect her to ever kill the priest or anything. If he doesn't think she'd do it in the first place, then why would he tell her to do so? oo" Plus, for the demon Pride, he doesn't seem to be proud enough for me. He wasn't insulted when the priest told him to leave. oo"

Ethaniel bolted upright

Kind of weird, after the whole lightning bolt shebang.

“You’re not just a witch.” Ethaniel huffed.

Huffed? And this makes it seem like he's talking to Pride, not Wither. oo"

Wither stammered toward the altar, tripping on her long gown.

Stammered is definitely not the right word.

Pride had said: I am Satan.

I think this would flow better if it merely went, "I am Satan," instead of "Pride had said..."

Wither suddenly began to tremble.

I don't know. She's been trembling (well, not just her, lots of people) since she met Pride. oo"

Wither gasped in horror.

Weak reaction, but if you intend to keep it, I suggest cutting out "in horror".

Ethaniel began to yell.

You'll want to avoid the word began. It slows down prose and sometimes kills it.

Ethaniel finally managed to tear through his burning coat and shirt, leaving his muscular torso bare.

...Haha? oo" I don't think talking about muscles is really appropriate here. ^^"

On a side note, there doesn't seem to be any pain evident. Burns hurt. Very badly. Also, they're not just red hot. They kind of peel and stuff. o.e

“You can’t kill a priest in the house of God, Satan. It can’t be done,” Ethaniel said.

She began to back away. “No, please.” Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her face. Satan lifted his hand and threw her across the ground with magic. Her skirts fell around her as she crumbled upon the floor. Her long hair spilled around her face.

Okaaaaaaaay. :/ She started the spell, but he'll kill her anyway? o-o I know you want to portray Satan as bad, but I like to there would be a methodical sort of sense to Satan's moves. He's just all over the place here. o0 I'm not sure why he's doing these things, or why he seems so senseless in his movements.

Mmmmkay. Final thoughts.

First things first, this came across too heavy-handed and in-your-face. It's wayyy too ham-fisted, in my opinion. oo" A little subtlety won't hurt it, and a little more vagueness won't hurt either.

You told lots of times, but it wasn't really clear cause you didn't tell in long stretches. There'd be a dead sentence or two, then you'd lapse back into showing. You also tend to show stuff that don't really need to be shown? oo" I mentioned a few above, but try to go through the piece again and check - release information only if relevant, and if you can't find a way to leak it to the audience in bits. Info is relevant if the audience needs it to understand the piece.

Occasionally, though, your prose is very beautiful. ^^

Next, characterization feels a bit flat, so maybe work on that by adding more layers to each. They all seem like puppets here, where you tug on each and make them dance, which is why towards the end it makes little sense. Also, what's with the blinding white light? oo" I thought the priest had God with him or something, but then it turns out that no, the white light was only for a dramatic entrance. ^^" Try not to pull anything just to add drama and pizzazz to the piece. Then again, I'm kind of a minimalist, so take this with a grain of salt.

Grammar is good, but again, plot needs cohesion. It dances with jerky movements, like it's only doing that because you need it to do that. Smooth out the motivations of your characters, and it'll get better on its own. =]

I won't go into too much detail about prose and everything else, because I think you have a good handle, more or less, but I will say that you tend to be melodramatic sometimes? oo" Also, I'm a bit disappointed. >.O I liked Fever Dream much better than this piece, and I kind of expected more. I'm sorry. ><

Anyway, good luck with revisions on this piece, and you know where to find me if you need anything~ =D

Sincerely,

Octave

Wow... And must I say again... Wow. This was amazing, and I'm honored to think you asked for advice. Well I must also say that this has gone above and beyond anything I could think of, and that this is truly amazing.
Once I began reading I couldn't tear myself away and even though it was hinted at I was stunned at the revelation of Lucifer and the ending. I also enjoyed whatever hints there were at something more between Wither and Ethaniel. Your descriptions are superb, your prose is brilliant. So kudos Hayden, this was beautifully written, even if it was a little on the dark side. People like me enjoy that- enough to get featured. Congratulations on getting featured as well!

-Renn

Hai!

Bolded are the bits I have issues with.

The witch, Wither, fled through the doors of the old church house.

Using “fled” here made me think that she was running from something—probably the men of the village you mention soon after—and seeking sanctuary in the church. Reading later on, I realise that she’s not, but that was my opening impression. I think you could take out “the witch” part of this sentence as you show us in the next few paragraphs that she’s a witch, and it’s much more subtly done there.

Her dark red hair fell down her back to her hips in glossy waves like blood.

Really not very happy with this simile. It’s bordering on the purple, and if you think about it, blood isn’t very like red hair at all. It’s dark and messy and warm and disturbing. I gave blood once, and the memory still haunts me.

She was thin, pale, and beautiful, and the men of the village were very aware of it.

Nice sentence.

As Wither neared the altar, she noticed a towering, slender gentleman leaning over a large book, reading.

Too much description too quickly. You describe Pride in quite a lot of detail just a few paragraphs later, so I think it would work better if you took out the adjectives here and just say “a gentleman”.

Wither opened her lips and her whisper hissed through the air. “Pride.” Her voice seemed to settle upon his shoulders, making him tremble. Pride turned and lowered his face to Wither. He flashed a bewitching grin.

You’ve got a lot of conflicting imagery here. A hissing whisper makes me think that Wither is scared of Pride, or she doesn’t like him, but later on she seems perfectly fine with him. He trembles when he hears her voice, which makes me think he’s scared of her, but then he turns around with a bewitching grin like they’re the bestest buddies in the world.

The beautiful Pride was an extraordinarily tall, lanky figure with broad shoulders. He wore a black frock coat, a gray vest, slacks, and leather boots. Standing upon the altar, he was a figure of power and authority.
Pride’s short blonde hair was cut close to his skull. He had a long, bony face that was as pale as ashes. His eyes were dark and glimmered beneath the light of the candles. His sharp nose and round, chiseled chin framed his delicate lips. Wither could not read his expression.

Two paragraphs of description for one person could be seen as a bit too much, but this could be remedied by changing your sentence structure. There’s a lot of short sentences dealing with just one feature; his eyes, his hair, his facial structure, and it comes across as very much like a list. I’d move the bolded sentence, because it seems kind of like a bookend, a conclusion to the description, and then you start up again immediately afterwards. If you keep it, move it to the very end of all the descriptions.

Wither giggled to herself.

On a first reading, I found this rather jarring. It’s been quite solemn and mystical up till now, with grimoires and talk of the Devil, and then she giggles and it’s a bit jarring.

His eyes were black and hollow. For a moment, she thought she could see directly into his skull.

Like, literally? She could see his brain and the liquid in his semi-circular ear canals and all?

Suddenly, light flooded the altar. Wither whirled around and was blinded by the white light streaming through the open doors. A silhouette was all she could see amongst the brightness. As the figure approached and the doors of the church slowly closed behind it, she could recognize the new arrival. It was the priest.
Ethaniel.

There’s almost always white light when someone cool arrives... Couldn’t you skip it? Besides, white light is more fitted to Lucifer, after all, “bringer of Light”.

His coat whisked around his knees as he bounded down the isle toward Wither.

Isle = aisle. You repeat this a few times.

Wither stammered toward the altar, tripping on her long gown. She yelled. “Your name! Give me your name!”
Pride turned to Wither and gazed upon her with wrathful black eyes. In a beastly voice, he said, “Satanas sum.” Wither recognized the language from the grimoire. It was Latin. Pride had said: I am Satan.
Wither suddenly began to tremble. “You’re the Dark Lord. You’re Lucifer.”

Wait... I thought Wither knew this guy? She acted like she knew him, and now he suddenly turns out to be Lucifer himself? Why didn’t he just kill Ethaniel himself, then?

Ethaniel finally managed to tear through his burning coat and shirt, leaving his muscular torso bare.

Yuck. Sorry, but yuck. I don’t want to know about how great his body is. This is an action scene; I’m meant to be caring about life and death and the state of his soul, not what wonderful abs he’s got.

---

So, hai! First of all, your title really drew me in, because I recently blogged about how much I like the word wither. XD Overall, your writing style is very good. This was very easy to read, and your dialogue was good, and I love your descriptions. All of that made this a very good read.

However, I did feel that the fight scene at the end could have been done better. It was too much “they did this then they did this and then this and this and this and then there was this”. Too list-y, is what I mean, and there wasn’t a lot of flow. I find action scenes and fight scenes incredibly hard to write, and I find it helps sometimes to read film novelisations, because if they’re done well, they can help give you an idea of the right words to use. Or film scripts, they’re good too. They’re still really tricky, though. >_<

The ending. This was where it fell down, I think. Up until the ending, I was really enjoying this, and then it ended and it was a real “lolwhut?” kind of moment. Cos, dude, lolwhut? Where’s the resolution? Wither (is there a special significance to her name, btw?) is called to the church by Pride, who turns out to be Satan, who then kills her because she won’t kill the priest. I’m not sure what I’m meant to bring away from this. There’s no resolution, no problems are solved. Wither doesn’t even have a full redemption, because she seems to be acting out of fear, rather than any great moral dilemma she’s having. The priest knew her, but didn’t know that she was a witch. Why was that? Did she go to the church, live in the village, see the minister every day? Why didn’t she want to kill him? If Lucifer wanted him dead, why didn’t he kill him himself?

In the end, I have more questions than answers, but not the questions that make you think and ponder on morality or whatever, more like “what just happened I don’t even” kind of questions. It was too up-in-the-air, and I don’t have enough to ponder on. You say it’s just meant to be a story, but even as a story without any great moral whatsits, it’s too open. A closed ending would make it more memorable, I think.

I hope this helped! If it didn’t, just send me a PM full of indignant wrath and I’ll try and explain better.

-twit

Wow. I can see why this was featured. You have a very good way of describing the characters and I could see what was going on. Very good job. I felt like I was reading a published book. I would love to read more of your work like this so please continue to write like this. I'm a sucker for supernatural things like this, so I love the entire idea of this story. There was only one thing that I'd like to see you improve on just a bit (and I will sound hypocritical because I do this a lot as well) and that is the way you describe what they are wearing. At some points it just threw me off a bit because you just told me what they were wearing. I'd like to see you describe it instead of just telling us. Maybe let the characters use the clothig (random ex: She tugged on the sleeves of her pink sweater) so that we can get peices of the outfit one by one and not all together in a big chunk. I think that would make it a bit smoother. Other than that, It was an amazing story.

Keep on Writing
-Roxy

This piece is really good and I really like it. I especially like

Small tears of silver light tumbled in through the narrow windows.

It's a very good story line and it has amazing details I would enjoy reading more. You have a little more about the book and the dark magic that Pride wants Wither to perform. I only saw a couple of grammar errors but it's very smooth reading and has very good transitions. I enjoyed it and I would like to read more.

Wow, this was awesome! I loved everything. The descriptions were really good- I could really clearly see everything happening.

I agree that you need to resolve more things; I don't think the ending is as good as it could be. I want to know what her relationship really is with Nathaniel and Pride- why does she hesitate to kill the priest?

Overall, I think this was really good! Keep writing!

This is really awesome Hayden! I really like your writing style. Your imagery is really good--I could totally see what was happening as I was reading it.
There were a couple things that were a bit weird. Most of them have already been discussed in previous comments. Except this one:

“Wither, get away from him.” Ethaniel pointed at Pride and shouted.

It sort of seems like Ethaniel says that line, and THEN points and shouts, when really it's all happening simultaneously. Plus, that should be a comma at the end, not a period.
Another thing--it seems like your story is going along and it suddenly stops just to describe the characters. It takes away from it a bit overall. Perhaps you could find a way to incorporate the descriptions in with action to keep the story moving.
Again, I really like this. The ending is quite unexpected and it's pretty terrifying. Nice job!
Hope this helped!
~Devan

sweet. A gripping story. The whole thing kept me reading. The ending was very brutal but ok not bad. But what happens to Ethaniel? How does he react to Whithers death? What does the devil do with him? All in all, very impressive.