Witches And Monsters

The wind howled through the ancient trees, their branches twisted and gnarled like the bones of forgotten gods. A blood-red moon hung low in the sky, its eerie light casting shadows that danced like specters across the forest floor. The air was thick with the scent of earth and decay, the very essence of the supernatural that pulsed through the land.

Rue Pendragon stood at the edge of the clearing, his dark eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. His silhouette, framed by the night, was imposing—tall and regal, with a sharp, angular frame. He was no mortal man, but a demon bound to the shadows, born from fire and torment. His wings, hidden beneath a black cloak, fluttered with anticipation as he awaited the summoning.

For centuries, Rue had walked this earth, a creature of both beauty and destruction, his existence tied to the dark magics of the underworld. He had seen empires rise and fall, kings crowned and dethroned, but nothing in his long, cursed life had prepared him for the witch who would bind him to her will.

From the depths of the forest, a figure emerged, her silhouette bathed in the sickly glow of the moon. Eloria. The witch who had called him here, whose bloodline was marked by an ancient power. Her presence was electric, crackling with a magic so old it seemed to reverberate through time itself. She was not like other witches he had encountered—there was a fire within her, a fire that burned hotter than any hellish flame Rue had ever known.

Her eyes, bright and calculating, met his as she raised her hands, chanting in a language so ancient that even Rue could barely understand it. The words were soft at first, almost like a whisper against the wind, but they grew louder, more insistent. They were words of binding—of summoning. Words that resonated with dark power, words that echoed through the very fabric of reality.

"Come forth, demon of shadow and flame," Eloria intoned, her voice steady and commanding. "By the blood of my ancestors, I call upon you."

Rue's eyes glowed with a molten light as the spell washed over him. His body trembled with the force of it, his very essence vibrating under the pull of her magic. He had been summoned many times before, but never like this. Never with such purpose.

He stepped forward, his form shifting from the darkness, his features more menacing in the moonlight. His presence was a storm of power and fury, his wings unfurling like the tempest itself. He was a force of destruction, and Eloria had called upon him for a reason.

"You dare summon me, witch?" Rue's voice was a low growl, resonating with the strength of his infernal nature.

Eloria's lips curled into a faint smile, unphased by his appearance. "I do not dare," she said coolly. "I command."

There was a flicker of something in Rue's gaze—something almost amused, but it quickly passed. He studied her for a moment, his gaze piercing and unreadable. "You have summoned me, but for what purpose? Why would a witch of your power seek the aid of a demon?"

Eloria's eyes narrowed, her expression hardened. "The world is changing," she said, her voice carrying the weight of knowledge and the bitterness of betrayal. "The prophecy is unfolding. There is a witch, born of crimson, who will rise and tear down the veil between realms. You are to ensure she fulfills her role. She is the key to the unraveling of everything."

Rue tilted his head, his amusement fading into something darker. "A witch, born of crimson?" he repeated, intrigued. "What is this prophecy you speak of?"

Eloria's expression grew more somber. "A witch who will awaken the broken hour, and in doing so, destroy the fabric of reality itself. She must be guided. Her path must be steered toward destiny—toward the destruction of all things."

Rue stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "You want me to control her, then? To bend her will to yours?"

Eloria's gaze hardened. "Control her? No. I want her to fulfill her destiny. But in the process, she must not break the world. And if she does, I want you to be there, to ensure her power is harnessed, not lost."

Rue studied her carefully. He had met many powerful beings over the centuries—beings of light and dark, gods and demons alike—but there was something about Eloria that intrigued him. Her fire. Her ambition. And her understanding of magic, of time, of the very forces that bound the universe together.

"What is it you seek in exchange for my assistance?" Rue asked, his voice low and knowing. He had learned long ago that no bargain was ever struck without cost.

Eloria met his gaze without hesitation. "I seek nothing. Only that the prophecy is fulfilled, and the world is as it should be."

Rue raised an eyebrow. "And if the prophecy goes awry? If the witch becomes a force too powerful to control?"

Eloria's smile was cold, a glint of something dangerous in her eyes. "Then you will destroy her. But for now, I need your aid. You will guide her. Protect her, if necessary."

Rue's lips curled into a wry smile. "You would trust a demon with such a task?"

Eloria's smile faltered for just a moment, before her expression became resolute once more. "I trust in power. And you, Rue Pendragon, have it in abundance."

There was a pause, and Rue looked away, his eyes scanning the darkened forest around them. He considered her words, weighing them against the centuries of experience that had taught him to trust no one. But there was something compelling about her offer. Something that called to him from deep within.

"Very well," he said, his voice dark and resonant. "I will guide the witch. And I will ensure the prophecy is fulfilled."

Eloria nodded, the faintest of smiles touching her lips. "Then we have an agreement."

As Rue turned to leave, a flicker of doubt stirred in his mind. He had no love for witches, and certainly no loyalty to their causes. But there was something in this prophecy, something in Levi Rose, that felt different. Something that called to him just as much as her dark power.

The wind howled once more as the blood-red moon climbed higher in the sky, casting its light across the forest. Rue Pendragon's wings unfurled, and he vanished into the night, his dark figure blending with the shadows as Eloria watched him go, knowing that their fates were now irrevocably entwined.

Prairie Smith sat hunched over her desk in the dim light of her small apartment, the soft hum of her laptop the only sound in the otherwise silent room. She flipped through an old leather-bound journal, its pages yellowed with age, her eyes scanning the text feverishly. The library basement had been a goldmine of information, but as much as she tried to absorb the historical context, there was a cold shiver of unease running down her spine.

Eloria's name seemed to be everywhere—scattered across different books, journals, and obscure references. The deeper Prairie dug, the more unsettling the picture became. Eloria wasn't simply a witch—she was a figure of myth and legend, tied to events that spanned centuries. And there was something off about the way she had died.

Most records described Eloria's death as a tragic yet predictable end, a witch burned at the stake by the church during the infamous witch trials of the 17th century. The image of flames licking at her body, the crowd's chants, the air thick with fear—it fit the typical narrative of witches accused of dark magic. Yet, Prairie kept encountering one odd detail in every account: Eloria's body was never recovered, and there were no traces of her final moments. Not even the scorch marks that should have remained on the ground where she was executed.

She clicked open another document, this one from an occult history archive, her pulse quickening as she read aloud to herself:

"Eloria of the Crimson Moon—executed, but not by the hands of the Church. Her death was the result of a mystical execution performed by the Order of the Obsidian Circle, a group believed to possess knowledge of forbidden magic and ancient rites. The truth of her death was concealed, hidden from the public eye. Her blood, once spilled, was said to seal away an ancient power. It is said she was the last witch of her line, and her power was so great that it could not be allowed to pass on to another…"

Prairie felt her stomach drop. The words were clear. Eloria had been executed by magic. Not the crude, brutal execution of fire and iron by a religious institution, but a ritual designed to ensure that her power would never find a way to resurface. The thought was chilling.

But why? Why would anyone go to such lengths to ensure her death was not just physical but also magical? What had she known? What had she done to inspire such a calculated effort to erase her existence?

Prairie's mind raced as she closed the journal, her fingers tapping anxiously on the desk. The Order of the Obsidian Circle was a name she had come across in passing, but nothing concrete had been found on them—until now. Her research had just uncovered something much darker, far more dangerous than she had anticipated. The mystery of Eloria's death was a puzzle, but Prairie knew she was standing on the precipice of something far bigger than just the witch's demise.

Her thoughts raced back to Levi. The sigil that had appeared on her wrist, the visions, the overwhelming power Levi was starting to manifest—was it possible that Levi's awakening had something to do with the magical execution? Was she the key to Eloria's power? Was she meant to take up the mantle Eloria had left behind? And if so, was she the target of the very same forces that had silenced Eloria so many years ago?

Prairie rubbed her temples, trying to focus, trying to piece everything together. Her eyes flickered to the clock on the wall—late into the night, the shadows in the room growing longer. She had to warn Levi. This was bigger than she had thought. It was no longer just about discovering who or what Levi was—it was about understanding the dangerous game they were all caught in. A game that spanned centuries, and one that, as Prairie now understood, was far more perilous than she ever imagined.

Suddenly, a chill crept into the room. The faint sound of a door creaking, a slight rustle from the corner. Prairie's eyes darted up, her heartbeat quickening. She wasn't alone.

But when she turned to look, the room was empty.

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a fleeting moment, she almost felt as though she was being watched—not just by someone in the room, but by something much older, more powerful. Something connected to the very magic that had killed Eloria all those years ago.

She swallowed hard, trying to calm her nerves. Maybe it was just the late hour, the pressure of everything she had uncovered. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she had just uncovered something far more dangerous than she had bargained for.

With a deep breath, Prairie turned back to her laptop, her mind racing. She had to find out more. The truth was out there, hidden beneath layers of history and lies. And if she was going to keep Levi safe, if she was going to protect them both, she needed to dig deeper. She couldn't stop now.

She clicked onto another document, this one filled with obscure references to the Order of the Obsidian Circle, their possible remnants, and their last known interactions with the witch trials. Each word sent a shiver down her spine. Whatever had happened to Eloria, it wasn't just about magic. It was about something much darker—and much older.

Prairie shivered again, her fingers trembling as she typed.

Levi Rose stood in the dim light of her dorm room, the air heavy with the scent of burning incense. Her heart pounded in her chest as she gazed at her palm, the sigil etched there now glowing faintly in the darkness. The marks from her vision—the one where Eloria's fiery death had plagued her dreams—hadn't gone away, and every time she focused on them, a sharp warmth pulsed beneath her skin, a rhythm that beat in time with her racing pulse.

There was a power within her now. She felt it—like a living thing, shifting and stretching, ready to break free. It scared her.

But it also exhilarated her.

Levi's mind flashed back to the first time the magic had come alive within her. It had been in the library basement, after the grimoire had opened. Her fingers had tingled with an unnatural energy, and when she reached for the page, it was as if the air itself had thickened with the weight of history and power. But that had only been the beginning.

She had to understand what was happening to her, what this was. It wasn't just some random magic. It was hers—something ancient, something that thrummed deep within her veins.

She had spent the past few days in hiding, her only companions the moonlight and the flickering candles on her desk as she scoured through the grimoire in secret. The book's pages whispered to her, urging her to discover more, to delve deeper into the powers she was meant to control. It was clear that she had only scratched the surface. But there was one thing that kept drawing her—the fire.

Levi's fingers brushed across a page in the grimoire, the fire sigil catching her eye. It was a symbol she knew now, from her dream, from Eloria. It called to her. The moment her fingers touched it, her mind was flooded with visions of flame, a roaring inferno that seemed to burn away all else, leaving only the purest essence of magic.

With a deep breath, Levi closed the grimoire. Her room felt too small, too stifling. She needed space. She needed to see if she could do it.

Pulling on her hoodie, she slipped out of her dorm and into the cool night air. The campus was quiet, the kind of silence that could only come from the late hours when everyone else was asleep. Her feet carried her toward the old courtyard, a secluded area of the campus that she knew few people ever wandered to after dark.

She found a small patch of grass, the moonlight casting long shadows on the ground. It felt right. It felt... familiar. Levi stood still for a moment, letting the chill of the night settle around her, grounding her.

Her fingers flexed at her sides as the familiar energy stirred within her, coiling like a serpent ready to strike. She closed her eyes, focusing on the warmth that burned beneath her skin—the warmth that wasn't fear, but hunger. She whispered the words from the grimoire under her breath, unsure if they would work, unsure of what would happen next.

The air around her seemed to shift. She felt it—an electric tension in the atmosphere, crackling like the very air was alive. Her breath hitched, and she opened her eyes.

Nothing happened.

Frustration rose in her chest, and she clenched her hands into fists. She wasn't a witch, not like the ones in the stories. She wasn't even sure she knew what she was doing. But deep down, something told her she could master this, that the magic she wielded was hers to command.

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves around her. She could feel the elements responding to her—was it the magic? Or was it just her own power trying to break through? It didn't matter.

Levi took another breath and focused again. This time, the words came easier, rolling off her tongue with a strange ease she hadn't expected. She raised her hand, her palm facing the ground, as though offering something to the earth. Her breath caught as she felt it—fire. The warmth, the heat, the unmistakable energy of fire, swirling inside her, rushing up her arm like an uncontrollable force.

And then, it happened.

A small flame burst to life at her fingertips, flickering in the night air. Levi gasped, staring at the tiny spark that hovered above her hand. It was warm, almost hot to the touch, but not unbearable. She could feel the power in it, pulsing with a life of its own.

It was just the beginning. But it was enough.

Levi laughed, the sound soft but full of wonder. She had done it. She had tapped into something she could barely understand, and yet... she had done it.

But even as the flames danced on her fingers, a nagging feeling crept up the back of her mind. The flame was too easy to summon. Too easy to control. And that worried her.

What would happen if she couldn't stop it?

Before she could give it more thought, the flame flickered out, dissipating into nothingness. Levi stood still for a moment, her breath coming in short gasps. The energy inside her hummed, but now it felt different—calmer, more contained.

She knew then that she had only begun to scratch the surface. The fire was just the beginning, and if she wasn't careful, it might consume everything around her.

With that thought, Levi made her way back to her dorm, her mind racing. She had learned something tonight. But she knew the next step was going to be harder. Control. Understanding. Mastery. And above all, surviving.

Because if there was one thing she was certain of now, it was this: there were those who would stop at nothing to take her power for themselves. And soon enough, she'd have to face them.