#| something wicked... |

[Blood & Bone]

[Twisted Machinations]

[The Child of Fallhaven]

[Malison]

[Awakening]

The settlement of Fallhaven was on edge, the tensions in the air could be cut with a dull butter knife, or so it felt. The Heartsbane sister had been released upon the town after bargaining for her freedom several nights prior. The hag preyed upon the weaker wills, the children and elderly, twisting their dreams into nightmares to coax them into her servitude. Amelia remained cautious and alerted each time she ventured into town, as baseless accusations were flung about carelessly. The townspeople searched for a scapegoat for the devious acts which occurred each night.

Today a crowd was gathered at the far end of the village; armored guards stood at either flank. Curious, Amelia tucked the basket of dry goods she brought to trade beneath her arm; it was likely the general shop was vacant at the moment anyway. She wove her way into the mob, enough that she could see what everyone gathered for; a mild-aged woman dressed in rags and bound in chains brought before the make-shift gallows.

"Margaret Dowd," a robed man shouted from the ground. "You have been tried and found guilty of witchcraft, accused by eyewitness accounts, and are hereby sentenced to hang by the neck until dead."

Amelia held her breath as she watched an armored guard loop the noose around the poor woman's neck as she begged for mercy and proclaimed her innocence to the unwavering crowd. Villagers cheered and rejoiced as the rope was slung over a low hanging branch and fastened to the nearby horse's harness.

Amelia felt disgusted by the town's eagerness to accuse and persecute their own wrongly in a brief moment. But then relief took root as this senseless murder of innocent life would take the blame and dash any suspicions against her. A faint smile curled the nude lips as the equine trotted and the rope went taught, leaving the woman to struggle in the air until she ceases to live.

The quiet sniffle of a child caught her attention next, looking downward to find a girl crying while the rest praised and rejoiced. Slowly, Amelia knelt to wipe away a tear from the child's cheek.

"Hush now, child," she cooed with a soft smile. "For this is the way life must be. Surely now, no harm can come to you."

The girl continued to sniffle as her father hoisted her up to his shoulder. "Thank you, miss." The man offered a hand to help Amelia up. "She cries for her friend, who was cursed to be mute a week ago. Not out of sympathy for this witch."

"I see. What a terrible matter to befall a child." Amelia forced a frown as she stood, tucking her hands beneath her shawl.

"Where are my manners," the father chuckled, "Gregory Collins, a pleasure miss?"

"Amelia," she answered.

"Well, a few of us are going to grab a drink while this menacing hag rots in the sun. You're welcome to join us." The man nodded to the town's inn as he extended the invitation.

Amelia canted her head at the prospect as she subtly inspected the man before her. His build and estimated age were nearly a perfect match to one described in her stolen grimoire. Settling her gaze upon his, she flashed a few teeth in a soft smile as she accepted the invitation.

"I'd love to."

Having spent an entire day resting and recovering from the curse placed upon the child of Fallhaven, Amelia looked over the tomes and grimoires that made up her stolen collection of knowledge. The fire within the hearth of the home she squatted kept the chilled air of the night at bay as she worked, carefully tracing the image from the page to the floor with animal fat and blood, checking every detail twice. Pebbles and bones were placed with the utmost care in particular arrangements, as candles were ignited in clockwise order, working from the outside in.

The Heartsbane grimoire slammed shut in her hand as she traded it for the scroll which had been pillaged from a Drust tomb. Fingers pushed her hair back behind either ear as she read over the broken text, silently mouthing each syllable. Alterations to such ancient and unknown rituals were hazardous, many called for motions by hand during recitation, but Amelia was forced to make do with her wand, lacking the training of control. Cautiously she waved the carved piece of elm over the candles and symbol upon the floor, speaking the accursed language in monotone as she moved.

Flames from the candles flickered as the air in her lungs froze, and the hairs on the neck stood on end. Slowly she scanned the vacant room with the sensation she was no longer alone. Taking a single step back from the ritual circle, the hearth and candles extinguished instantly. Icy blue hands slammed up against an invisible barrier at the circle edge as the summoned fiend reveals itself. The form of a woman in tattered rags, legless as it hovered above the floorboards. Hair matted with sunken features in the skull, eyes an abysmal black, and lips rotted. Its nails were several inches long and dragged across the barrier as it stared through Amelia to her soul.

With a flick of her wand, the candles sparked to life once more, a second motion, and the wood within the hearth was ablaze. A crooked smile pulled across her nude lips as she carefully examined the summoned deity, who seethed at being pulled from the realm of death into the binding circle. While Amelia lacked the power to summon the departed Heartsbane matron, she possessed enough to recall one of the covens dearly departed Sisters.

"You mettle in forces beyond your comprehension, girl." The floating fiend ominously warned, testing the strength of Amelia's binding circle again.

"I comprehen' the forces just fine, thank you." She chastised the Sister. "I could send ya' right back to th' realm of the Drust if that is what ya'd prefer. Or, perhaps, we can negotiate a trade for your freedom." With a wicked grin, her fingers drummed on the handle of the wand.

Once more, a dagger-like nail drug across the veiled barrier, the apparition groaning in a low tone as the bottomless eyes settled on Amelia. "I'm listening."

The child had been returned to her bed in Fallhaven, memory blank, and cursed to live forever mute. The constructed servant of wood and bone which had delivered the girl sacrificed its life at the hands of the outraged villagers, taking the fall for its master and shifting blame to the covens who still existed within the Crimson Heart. Amelia returned home in the meantime, washing the rabbit blood from her body in the nearby creek and settling into bed for the night.

But comfort was not found, for her ritual thus far had been successful, yet half complete. Having stolen the child's youth, tethering the girl to her for eternity, should death find Amelia, it would instead take the child's life. To cheat death once, a small piece in the larger scheme. Tonight would be restless and painful as the final threads tethered the two.

Agony seared across Amelia's body; she lurched and writhed atop the mattress as forces from another realm picked and prodded at her very soul. Teeth sank into the folded leather belt stuffed in her mouth to muffle the scream and dull the pain. Pupils dilated as the full moon shone through the window beside the bed. Before her eyes flashed images of the child and their memories intertwined, forcing her to feel the girl's fear from within the construct's ribs.

The night dragged on, and the burning torment persisted until dawn, leaving Amelia to suffer for hours until the sun broke over the horizon. Only then could she rest, panting in a cold sweat without remorse or regret. The girl from Fallhaven was nothing to her but another ritual reagent.

Candles dimly lit the small circle of stones, flickering the night breeze, extinguishing. A cup made of stone boiled over with a nefarious fog, the scent of reagents clinging to the air, a paralyzed rabbit laid in a wicker basket. Feathers from raven and crow littered the ground, meticulously placed down to the angle at which they sat, the tip of each pointing to the flat stone at the center. Effigies and runes constructed from twigs hung from branches above, rocking silently with each whisp of the breeze. Seeds pulled from a ripe apple were sprinkled across the crude altar as Amelia checked the page of the stolen grimoire, her boney finger running over the forbidden syllables. Her gaze turned skyward as the full moon approached its zenith, and the lumbering servant came forward.

The limbs made from wood and bone creaked with each movement, and the lifeless sockets of the rotting goat skull stared at its mistress, coming to a halt at the edge of the ritual site. A small child wept in fear behind the ribcage held together by vines, cowering as tear-filled eyes peered out at Amelia.

"Hush now, child," she whispered in her approach. "you are a part of something beyond the comprehension of this realm."

With a small vial, she reached between the ribs of her unholy construct and delicately collected one of the child's tears with air breath and a wicked smile, inspecting the transparent fluid in the moonlight. Swiftly the tear poured into the bubbling cup before Amelia drank the contents, biting her tongue in disgust as the taste passed.

"P-please let me go." The small child cried from her prison.

"Soon..." Amelia cooed, looking again at the moon, which hung overhead. "It's time."

From beneath her robe, she retrieved the poppet, turning the hand-sewn doll toward a candle's flame to set the figure ablaze. In a near nurturing fashing, the burning poppet laid to rest upon the altar as her robe was shed to the forest floor. The brisk night air nipped at the exposed pale skin of her nude form, and the bleached stag skull was donned upon her head. The paralyzed rabbit was plucked from the basket with her wand made of elm. A flick of her wrist with the magical instrument and the critter began to squirm with life. The wand then traded for a stone knife, which plunged into the animal's pale-haired chest, opening the ribs to expose the beating heart.

The blade clattered to the stones as it fell from her hand, fingers rutting through muscle to tear the heart from the rabbit and discard the carcass to her feet, the child screaming in fear at the display. Crushing the heart in her hand, the blood spewed from her fist, collecting at the wrist and dripping upon her bare bosom, wringing her fingers to ensure every drop spilled. Her digits then played in the crimson fluid, spreading it across her chest and over the collar bones, down to the navel and hips, drawing symbols with the blood as she chanted.

Opposite the altar, the menacing construct pulled the crying girl from its ribs, setting her across the flat stone as roots sprung from the ground to bind the child atop the ashes of her poppet. She screamed and thrashed, the roots pulling tighter in response, one springing from the dirt to race over her mouth and silence the terrified shrieks.

Amelia stood at the foot of the altar, hands raising to either side as the candles burned brighter. The moon and sky above turned orange, and the blood-written symbols across her unclothed form turned black as coal. Pulling her arms in and across her chest, the candles suddenly extinguished; she and the frightened child were plunged into the darkness of night.

Massive limbs creaked and cracked as the summoned construct wood and bone fully emerged from the conjured doorway. Pale and soulless eyes peered down at the fire and ritual circle from the rotted skull, shifting its gaze onto Amelia as she removed her mask to stare the creature down face to face. A wicked smile pulled across her lips as a stained poppet was drawn from her cloak, offered outward towards the construct.

"Down in the village, there is a girl," Amelia began to instruct, "the one who sewed this little doll. Find her."

Skeletal fingers curled around the poppet as the construct inspected the tattered threads and missing button eye. Its head shifting to one side as the wooden neck groaned with the strain of movement.

"Return the girl here. Alive." Amelia demanded. "She is to be unharmed, least of all the innocence of her soul tainted for then she will be of no use to us and under the full moon tomorrow night." She pointed a finger towards the village of Fallhaven. "Go."

With an eerie creak, the abominable construct looked down the hill towards the village lights. The ground quaking as the massive limbs began to move through the trees to descend upon the inhabitants. Watching with bated breath, a devious smirk touched the corner of Amelia's lips, reaching for the grimoire at her hip as the cloak's hood was pulled up again.

Leaves shuffled underfoot as she made for the dilapidated home to prepare the second ritual.

From deep in the forest, Amelia watched the unholy clouds roll thunderously over Boralus. A devilish grin tugged at the corner of her nude lips as winged fiends swooped into the city. This was the night she awaited, the events foretold in the tea leaves and tarots, the time for the true harbingers to usher in a new era. To no longer be bound by the curses of mortality, no longer fall ill or victim to emotions, to achieve immortality by undeath.

Stepping away from the cliff's edge, she returned to the spot where the small fire burned. Crushed herbs and stones sprinkled upon the ground around the flame in an unholy pattern. Her head dipped to don the stag skull mask, pulling the hood of her cloak up to the base of the bleached antlers. In a language nearly forgotten, she spoke the ancient chant, lighting the five candles around the circle simultaneously with a wave of her hand.

A bundle of wicker was tossed to the fire; the dried herbs wrapped within the cord turned the flame blood-red as it bellowed. A rabbit's skull then dipped in a foul-smelling syrup and was placed with care at the edge of the ring. Then, as if summoned, a crow landed on the low hanging branch nearby, and Amelia grabbed the bird with unhuman-like reflex. She was still chanting away in tongues behind the mask as fingers wrapped around the crow's neck, twisting abruptly to sever the head clean from the body. The avian blood dripped from the opening as it was lifted above her head, the crimson fluid splattering and trailing down the stag skull which covered her face before the carcass was discarded into the flame.