Wh|te Mag|c (Prologue & Chapter 1)

Prologue

The blue night was peaceful. The wind blew silently with no hesitation across the land, sweeping it like a lost broom that had been shut away years ago. The trees shimmered with a faint glow at the tips of their leaves in the crescent moonlight. You could easily hear the quick breathing of a hare that lay amongst the soft grass, it’s crystal blue eyes darting from bush to bush. Flowers that dared to rise to their full height poised themselves toward the dim, silver rays.

Then suddenly the silence broke with a rippling triumph expressed through screams of joy. The sky, once streaked with midnight blue, filled itself with an unsettling blood red. The burst of extravagant color cut through all darkness as over the horizon a massive fire exploded, lighting the world with a promising word of death.

The men and women, dressed in filthy clothes and mud coated faces, raised their swords with a mighty roar as she stepped from the shadows beyond.

The woman was godlike.

Cloaked in a scarlet shawl that had undecipherable symbols carefully embroidered in the silk, the fact was made obvious that she was a witch, and a powerful one at that. Her bleached dark grey hair fell delicately to her belt, which held loosely from her waist. Her face was captivating; amber eyes that could give a look so icy they could freeze a room with no hesitation. Her lips were extremely red and a tattoo reading Calla fell over them. For she was Calla, and she wanted the world to know.

As she entered the light of the flames, Calla looked out at her soldiers, who had sworn ultimate loyalty to her and her beliefs. They let out cheers of happiness as she emerged, raising their metal swords to the red sky.

“Men and women of the Witch Society!” She screamed, throwing her wrist upwards in an act of solute.

“Hail!” Cried the soldiers. “Hail!” Their echoes of happiness spread through the land as quickly and stealthily as the growing fire.

Calla’s face filled with a wicked smile as she lowered her arm. A hush fell over the excited crowd, who brought down their swords leisurely. All eyes flickered to the mighty witch, whose own stared out into the darkness, which was disappearing quickly.

“Tonight, my children; tonight is the night we take back what’s ours.” She said regally, taking a quick breath as enthusiastic chatter arose from the people in front of her. “We have worked year after year, keeping faith in The Forsaken, our ancestors, and it all comes down to this.”

Another roar of delight escaped all the lips of the soldiers.

“I had never imagined we would get to this place, but you all have proved me wrong. You have exceeded any expectations I could ever have had of any of you. Finally, your hard work shall be rewarded with treasures beyond your wildest dreams.”

A round of applause exploded from the sea of people. Calla shook her hair and drew Fetel, which glistened with the golden symbols she wore. With one last gesture for silence, she began to sing, slowly raising her sword.

“Terrin a’ forr, meren. Terrin a’ forr, meren.

Terrin a’ forr, meren. Tonight we ride.”

In soft and beautiful harmony, the song was sung back to her, a haunting one it was, but perfect for this occasion. As Fetel seemed to pierce the heavens, she called out with a withering scream;

“TONIGHT WE CONQUER RAVENERA!”

“HAIL CALLA!” Screeched the audience, waving their drinks and weapons. “DOWN WITH RAVENERA!”

Then any night that was ever there exploded into the flaming scarlet of the massive bonfire.

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Chapter One

A little girl ran hastily through the grand hall, her tangled blonde hair flying behind her in the wind of the cool room. The dark of night swallowed the castle in black, the only source of light being a dim lamp that flickered uneasily through the hall. The girl leapt from tile to tile, her nightgown fluttering just above her ankles and pulling at her wrists. She could not bear to sleep, as she had been awoken by a daunting nightmare that had refused her rest. Uneasily she tugged at a lock of blonde curly hair that hung precariously in front of her face and squinted to see the unknown darkness before her.

Then the darkness was no longer there.

The cannonball hit as quickly as breath was drawn. The impact almost shattered her eardrums, and she flew back and was thrown into the wall, which seemed to crumble as she slammed into it. All senses were lost from her body as her dead eyes shut for good.

From the smoke that arose from the destroyed wall the flaming red sky grew swiftly took over the dark, velvety cover. Stars were swallowed in red and trees that had been burnt into ashes fell one after another.

The queen awoke, gasping, her ears ringing. She threw off her covers and immediately ran to the window, pulling back a lacy curtain.

There, mirroring her, was Carine VII, The Cursed Sovereign. The window had been replaced by a cheval glass, preventing her from seeing anything beyond. “What in Ravenera-”

“Your highness! Open up!” A shout from the door interrupted her. The handles seemed to rattle as a fist pounded against the wood.

“Who are you?!” She screamed, clutching her nightgown.

“There’s no time to explain, miss! The castle is under attack!” More ferocious pounding.

So it wasn’t a dream.

“I’m coming!” Carine yelled back, rushing to the nearly struck through door. Yet as she pulled the handles, a wave of fear washed over her. The knobs weren’t opening.

“THE HANDLES AREN’T WORKING!” A mangled voice escaped her throat.

A burst of activity erupted outside as voices rose. One swallowed the others and made itself clear. “JUST HOLD ON, YOUR MAJESTY!”

Carine drew back from the door, all composure lost, only to find a small hand clamped over her mouth. A distorted screech came from underneath the palm, only to be silenced by a blow to the head. The queen fell limp.

Calla smirked.

“CARINE, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” One last call came from outside, only to be left unanswered as Calla disappeared out of the destroyed bedroom and into the sea of invaders, the unconscious monarch hidden beneath her monstrous cloak.

Finally the barred door was chopped open with a rusty axe. A small group of survivors searched the deserted area, but of course found nothing.

“She must have escaped through the other wall!” A maid called out.

The man leading the group, Hugo, shook his head. “We can do nothing for her now. The important aspect is keeping ourselves alive so someone can get help once it is all over.”

“What if she’s in trouble? We will surely be blamed for not looking for her! Possibly beheaded!” The royal butler exclaimed.

“By whom? If you have not noticed, ladies and gentlemen, we are the only ones still alive around here. We can most certainly lie about that little detail.” Hugo replied.

“Have you no shame?” Cried a young squire, who had barely escaped a cannonball that had landed near his sleeping quarters. “Miss Carine may be dying, maybe already dead, and you make no effort to look for her? Aren’t you supposed to be loyal to the queen? What kind of man are you?”

Hugo bent down, eyes like snakes about to strike. “You are to speak when spoken to, sir, and if she is already dead, what use is there looking for her?”

“You don’t know if she’s dead or not, you coward!” The fifteen year old boy spat in his face.

“That’s enough of that!” Insisted an old weaver, raising a bony hand to dismiss the argument. “You’re all cowards, bickering at a time like this. Let us get to shelter. This wretched ruin is no place for us.”

Both hugo and the squire looked as if they wanted to say more, but they reluctantly obeyed the woman, who pointed west. “The witches lurk everywhere except for Granlin, so to Granlin we shall go. This way.”

Her shrunken, ancient figure seemed to fade as she hobbled out of what used to be the queen’s room.

The squire, Hugo, the maid, and the butler, not sure what else to do, followed her in hopes that everything would be alright.

Yet the young squire’s certainty slowly withered away as he looked back only to see the red flames that had destroyed his whole life, not to mention an entire palace in only a matter of minutes.

A new chapter of his life had folded neatly over the last.

He wasn’t sure if he was going to like what lay before him.