#so many will say lits of fur farms are cruel! the ones I use are super nice tho : )

[azzura-knight]

A Magicians Judge

My first writing for Azzura. I’m going to start posting stuff about her soon but hoo its late and I have class tomorrow,,,

Anyways!! This is supposed to take place a few days after the soul riders all met up at the camp site. I’m treating it like they have a few days before things start working and smoothing out

Slight spoilers warning for those not caught up on the new story quests!!

A magicians judge

Azzura stood in her clydesdale’s stall brushing away at his fur absent mindedly, not truly paying attention as she thought. The soul rider thought of Wednesday, of the campfire that she sat around with the others waiting to hear back from every grey and delve into Pandoria to save Anne. It wouldn’t be much longer now, would it? Things would work out… right?

The young girl huffed before leaning her head against the speckled bay’s side, earning a snort from the sleepy gelding at the sudden stop in attention. Azzura lifted her forehead and looked back at the large head and big eyes, suddenly getting an idea. 

Rushing around the young girl grabbed a saddle and bridle to throw on Copper Eye, forgetting her own riding helmet in her haste to hop on him and venture outside. The wind picked up as soon as she exited the barn though, bringing the smell of a cooler breeze, as well as circus food and magic. A definite sign and call from the man she was going to see.

Taking a deep breathe to steel herself, Azzura nudged Copper forward with her heal all the while staring down the purple tent that was just visible over the hills past Steve’s Farm and silver glade village, just past the fenced area where there always seemed to be a lightness to the air. A circular area that always made her hair stand on ends and her pointed ears tingle. 

A chill swept through the rider, making her fingers suddenly cold as she picked up the pace trotting down the road. Taking her time and never drifting her gaze from the purple tent that belonged to Ydris, Azzura opted to veer in the back way at the last second and avoid being seen by the pandoric man that wanders near the front of the hill. The same Hill Justin Moorland had fell on not a few weeks ago after slamming into a blockage.

Copper seemed to grow antsy as well as he Felt Azzura’s legs tighten more the closer they got, picking up speed slightly and lifting his head as if he were pulling a cart in a fair. Azzura let the Clyde go faster, happy for any excuse to get this over with. 

There seemed to be a line that kept Ydris contained in the area, for as soon as she passed between the old stone fences that were beginning to fall and crumble, lightening seemed to dance along her skin. Her hair lifted as it did in Pandoria to float around her shoulders and her ears buzzed as if a storm were coming. She felt him as well, the deep pool of questions and mild insanity that was Ydris. Everything about him a dark purple almost like the void. 

Azzura stared at the location she knew he was at as soon as she picked up on it, even with the tent in the way she was dead on. Slowing Copper to a walk as they passed out from behind and moved straight for the fortune tent. Though the tall man had his back turned she could almost hear his smirk. A hand lifted causing the wind to pick up once again and lift the flap in the fortune tent, though he did not turn. Azzura took a deep breath before sliding from the tall horses back. Her feet hitting the ground hard as she seemed to forget the height and her legs suddenly aching at the hit, helping her to steal herself once again. The bay turned his head a little, nudging his rider as she walked past him. Azzura touched his nose softly and smiled weakly before passing through the door. 

As soon as she did the wind followed her in, Ydris in his chair with his arms crossed and eyes glinting like he had thought of a cruel joke just moments before. The light blue eye of his seeming to glow in the dimly lit area as Azzura stared him down. Suddenly, panic began to settle into Azzuras bones as she realized what a mistake she was making. Admitting her weakness to a man that had tried to bring forth Garnok not weeks before, a man that showed no mercy towards the young woman that shared half a world with him. As soon as Ydris spoke however, the cowardice fled, and only determination filled her mind.

“Ah, little flea. I see fate has tempted you back today, has it not?” The magician’s smile curled ever more, his eyes never drifting and never loosing light of his malice as he spoke. “Now I know you are here for insight on your oh so quickly approaching future, my crystal ball practically hummed when you entered my circus! I will give you the option though, shall a horse fortune ease your mind today, or are we to look towards something a little… closer to home for us.” 

At the last words, Azzura suddenly steeled herself. Her eyes narrowing at the cocky man before her who’s fingers curled around the crystals holding his ball, a man that had been tormenting her as soon as she had begun to show any sign of Pandoric lineage. Who poked at her ears and treated her as a child. Young as she may be he wasn’t much older… right? Sure time was different for him but not aging.

“Tell me of my future Ydris, let’s not dance around this anymore then we need to” Azzura straightened her back a little bit, crossing her arms as she met the heterochromatic stare before her with equal fire. The malice faded to satisfaction on Ydris’ face as he gave a slight nod, leaning away from the soul rider and waving a hand as if thinking.

“Of course of course! I would have asked for no other way.” With that the man began to work, running a hand along the surface of the crystal ball as if to wake It up, the room brightening with its pink glow as the clouds inside swirled and lifted to show something to the man looking within. A hum and another over the top flourish later, Ydris looked back up to Azzura, a hand resting on the ball before him.

“Now wouldd be a good time to explore your ancient side. You try to hide this aspect of yourself from others, especially a certain relation. You know whom I mean.” Ydris voice came forth, seemingly underlaid by another, higher pitched voice beneath it that read along with his. His gaze never wavered from Azzura as she stared back at him, eyes continuing to narrow as he spoke. 

“There is no point in fighting, everyone has an a client side - at least the most interesting people do! Your denial makes you look like a many-coloured bull, which is to say, a fool. Embrace that which makes you ancient! It will bring you bring you the time to give to yourself, and it is that very quality that makes you so dangerous in the relations eyes.” 

When Ydris was done he lifted his hand and shook his head slightly as if ridding of a cloud around him. A half smile still played on his face, though everything seemed softer about him after the speech, despite the sour look on the one across from him, all wrinkled nose and furious eyes. Before Azzura could even attempt to open her mouth however, the magician pushed back in his chair and closed his eyes as if in woah.

“Alas- my crystal ball has fallen silent and cold once more! You drain her so my flea, and I must let her rest until tomorrows light.” The magician leaned on the table after speaking, resting a his head in a hand as he did and giving a clear indication that Azzura was to leave quite soon. The young girl just stared in anger for a moment longer before huffing.

“What do I owe you-“ Azzura began to pull out her wallet in reflex, grabbing a few coins in her fingers before stopping as a soft laugh slipped from Ydris.

“Nothing yet. For now your confusion and struggles with current mortality is all I need. Go visit the Moon, tell her to check her tea as you pass by for me.” The twisted curl set itself back on Ydris’ face, the kind of smirk that send another shiver down Azzura’s spine and quickly turning to leave as she stuffed her wallet back in a pocket. 

As soon as she turned her back she felt a small gust of wind coming into the tent and the flap lifting outside, a cold feeling of fingers on her shoulder as she walked out. Once out, Azzura shielded her eyes from the sudden brightness of the sun, Copper coming over quickly to her side with a mouthful of grass and a carrot that he had stolen from the odd little Zony near the rest of Ydris’ animals. 

Azzura gave the gelding a pat on the shoulder before heaving herself up into the saddle. As she turned towards the path to the tent, she saw that Ydris was back In his spot as if he had never left. Staring dumbfound for a moment, Azzura huffed before nudging Copper into a brisk trot past the magician, being sure to go fast enough he could not see the effects his magic had on her hair. 

As she past Ydris she felt his eyes on her back the whole time, Not daring to turn around or slow down until she passed that invisible line yet again and nodding a goodbye to Zee. Once she had past it, Azzura stopped Copper and spun him so she could look at the ridiculously tall man on the hill, a frown set on her face.

Ydris had not looked away or wiped the knowing look from his face the entire time she had past him. The two stared for a moment longer before the magician tipped his hat and turned away. Azzura immediately nodded in response before turning back and walking back towards camp to meet Linda, Lisa, and Alex. 

“I don’t know if it’s the sign we wanted boy, but I guess its the only sign he can give…” Copper only snorted in response, tossing his head and yanking on the reins as Azzura kicked the gelding up and let him stretch his legs as they took off towards Guardians Dale, feeling a little more grounded. 

[maplesamurai]

The Witch’s Apprentice, Ch 7

Soon enough, and far too soon for the Butcher family, winter had come at last. The season’s snow had come as early as the last days of November, at first in the form of light flurries that melted in the sun as easily as the autumn frost, but by December’s second week, everything Arthur could see from the hilltop farmhouse was blanketed in snow, and icicles hung from every rooftop. In Arthur’s final month home, the hearth was kept burning all day round, putting the piles of firewood Arthur had diligently gathered in autumn to good use. But even in the dead of winter, there was still work to be done, and Arthur was happy to keep himself busy and thus his mind occupied away from the coming deadline.

  As the root vegetables his family kept in the garden still grew in winter, Arthur continued tending and picking the turnips, onions and sprouts. While he now needed to be fully bundled up in his coat to do so, he also kept on working on whatever repairs that he not taken care of in the fall, mostly the barn, as he had greatly prioritised the house while his sister was still ill. It was around this time too, that the time came to slaughter the family’s hogs for much needed meat. It was also somewhat hard for Arthur and Morgan to part with the animals they had been tending to all year in such a way, but such was life on the farm.

  What little free time Arthur had this time of year, he spent taking walks around town if it wasn’t too cold to go outside. He liked to take in the sights he had never fully appreciated, from the smoke rising from the townspeople’s chimneys, to the winter salmon leaping over the river rapids, and he also took the time to say his final goodbyes to everyone he knew outside of the family. Occasionally, he would still catch a flash of black out of the corner of his eye only to see a black feathered bird flying away when he turned to look, but by now he had grown oddly used to the possibility that his new mistress may be watching him.

  On these walks, he would often invite Morgan or his parents to join him, wanting to spend as much time with them as possible while he still could. And it was his sister who accompanied him as he took his final walk among the town the day before the Solstice Eve, the sun slowly setting over the horizon.

  The Solstice Festival proper would not begin until tomorrow night, but already Arthur and Morgan could take in the sights of the coming festivities. All across town, dwellings rich and poor were decorated with holly and ivy to ward off what darker spirits would roam in the dead of winter, and at the town square where months earlier the Butchers had sold their unexpected grain, priests of various gods tended the fire pit that would tomorrow night be lit for the festival bonfire. Lamp-posts illuminated the town roads, alight with flames enchanted by the local lord’s wizards to glow in all colours, while farmers wandering the streets spoke proudly of how large their sacrificial boars for the year had grown. 

  There were many holidays celebrating the Winter Solstice among the many cultures across the continent, but in the kingdom of Albion, the most widely practiced was the Festival of the Winter’s Hunt. When night fell on the eve of the Winter Solstice, the old legends said, the Elvenking would ride out of the Faerie Kingdom into the mortal world, followed the riders of the Wild Hunt, to judge each living soul they came across. Those the Elvenking judged as kind and virtuous, were said to be rewarded with gifts such as toys for children and coal to fuel a house’s hearth, left at one’s feet as the Wild Hunt invisibly rode past fast as the wind. Those judged as wicked and cruel, however, would be hunted and spirited away back to the fae realm, to what fate no one knew. These days, some would dismiss such tales as mere myth, only told to frighten children into behaving properly, but occasionally people would hear tell of those who ventured into the night on Solstice Eve never to be seen again, tales that convinced most to stay inside when the sun set this time of year.

  Arthur’s family were always the sort to honour such traditions. After all, Arthur thought to himself as he looked among the ivy draped homes and the icy roads glistening under the light of dusk with his sister walking beside him, it certainly would not be the strangest of tales they discovered to be true as of late.

  “You know, Arthur,” Morgan said to her brother as they continued to stroll past ivy draped homes, making sure to tread carefully on the icy roads, “I’m going to miss taking these walks with you once you’re gone. And I don’t think you’re going to see many sunsets like this inside that forest.”

“You said it,” Arthur sighed. “Part of me wishes I could just stay and spend all my remaining time just taking in the sights like this.”

  “Well, careful now,” Morgan teasingly told her brother. “If you stay out too late, the Wild Hunt might come to spirit you away.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Arthur said with a shrug. “They shouldn’t arrive before tomorrow night. And besides,” he paused as he opened his hand to look at the Witch’s mark upon his palm, “I have the feeling they wouldn’t want to dispute a certain someone’s claim.”

  Morgan looked at Arthur’s palm curiously, before saying, “You know, Arthur, it’s still weird knowing how you’ve got that mark on your palm when I still can’t see it.”

  Arthur sighed. Just like the faeries that had accompanied the Witch’s healing spell, neither his parents nor Morgan had been able to see the mark on his palm. Melion had seen it when he arrived too late to stop Arthur’s bargain, but he was seemingly the only one other than Arthur or the Witch herself that was able to. He’d hoped to focus on the here and now and he came out for this final walk into town, but he couldn’t help but recall when he’d asked their Uncle Melion about the subject the day before he had left…

  O – O – O

  It was mid-afternoon on the day the Witch of the Woods had healed Morgan of the White Plague and restored the Butchers’ failed wheat to full health as well, on seemingly little more than a whim. After an unexpectedly busy morning of harvesting a whole field, one would think Arthur Butcher would be spending his free time at rest, but one would be wrong. Knowing how little time he had left among family, Arthur wanted to make that time count. And considering how little he could see his Uncle Melion even before the clock started ticking, Arthur wanted to take his uncle up on the offer he had declined the day prior.

  So it was inside the Butchers’ family barn was Arthur and Melion were getting ready for the latest of the various sword fighting lessons Melion had given his nephew over the years. The two wooden practice swords the two used for these lessons were propped against the barn wall, ready to be wielded, but this time, the weapons were to wait a little longer. For this time, even as Arthur was putting on the gambeson shirt and padded helmet he wore over his clothes to these lessons, his sister was sat on a barrel next to him, not to watch the lesson as usual, but to continue to pester Melion about a certain subject…

  “Ye’re really not gonna let up ‘til ah do it, are ye?” Melion sighed, clearly exasperated from his niece’s constant questions.

  “Nope,” Morgan said happily.

  “Okay, fine, ah can show it tae ye once.”

  And with a sigh of frustration, Melion dropped down on all fours, and the fur cloak on his back enveloped his body, changing as his shape did, until the gigantic, but still human looking man was replaced with a sabre-toothed black-furred wolf as large as warhorse.

  “There,” Melion growled. “Are ye happy, now?”

  “Very happy,” Morgan confirmed. “Does it feel weird when you do that, though? You know, with your fur separating from your body and merging back with it whenever you change shape?”

  “’Twas a bit strange at first, but ah’ve since grown used tae it,” Melion admitted, before turning back towards Arthur and telling him, “Ye just had tae tell her in front of everyone, didn’t ye, Arty?”

  “Oh, I didn’t have to,” Arthur said, barely stifling a laugh, “but I’ve yet to regret doing so.”

  “Of course ye don’t. Ah don’ suppose ye want tae ask anythin’ ‘bout this before we start yer lesson?”

  “Well, there’s one thing I’d like to know before we start,” Arthur admitted. “Not about your enchantment, but about something that concerns the both of us.”

  “Oh?” Melion asked curiously. “And wot might dat be?”

  “Well, remember how back when the Witch healed Morgan, it seemed like only I could see those faerie like spirits she conjured? And back when I made the pact with her, she seemed surprised when I could see the magic of the contract.”

  “So ye want tae know why we can see those things, but others can’t?”

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “Well, ah don’t know much about magic meself,” Melion admitted as he made a circle to lay down on the floor as Arthur had seen ordinary dogs do before, “so this is mostly pieced together from wot ah’ve learned from me time with the Witch and from wot magi ah’ve met on me later travels have told me, but the gist of it is that most magical things, like fae and other spirits, are mostly invisible unless they want tae make themselves known. ‘Tis the same with the magical energy that flows through a mage’s spells and the like. Pretty much anyone with working eyes can see the end result of such things, but only certain people can see wot’s really doin’ the work tae get that result.”

  “Okay,” Arthur replied, trying to wrap his head around the concept, “so what makes someone able to see magic, then?”

  “Afraid ah can’t give ye all the answers tae that,” Melion admitted, “but wot ah’ve bin told is that some people are jus’ more sensitive tae these things than most. An’ that doesn’t just mean ye can either see ‘em or ye can’t; some folk can just sense the presence of magic an’ spirits an’ that’s it, some can only faintly see such things, and others see ‘em as clear as a cloudless sky.”

  “And I’m guessing most magic users can see these things, right? It seems that would be an important part of their craft.”

  “Aye. In fact, some wizards ah’ve met have said the Sight’s usually the first hint that someone’s got mage talent. It’s not always the case, though.”

  This made Arthur curious. Could this possibly mean he could use magic himself if he learned how? Probably not, he decided, since he’d never seemed to be able to so much as sour a cup of milk. Still, it was certainly an interesting prospect, even if it was just wishful thinking.

  “The gift can also be more’re less common dependin’ on a whole bunch of factors, like where ye live, wot lineage ye come from, the circumstances of yer birth, or wot creature ye are, as well. Most animals can sense magic around ‘em, fer example.”

  “Speaking from experience?” Morgan remarked.

  “Don’t be rude, Morgan,” Arthur sternly reprimanded his sister.

  “S’ fine Arty, ah’m sure she didn’t mean anything by it,” Melion reassured the both of them. “’Sides, that’s partly true at least. Sure, we wargs are still a people in our own right, with our own language and laws, but we’re still closer tae common beasts than most races are, and our awareness of the magical world be no exception. Anyway, that’s how ah was ‘fore ah met the Witch.”

  “And that changed when you became a skinchanger?”

  “Aye. Ye see, one of the other things ah know ‘bout the whole deal is that inherently magical creatures can see magic, whether yer born as one, or become one later in life. So once ah made that pact with her, ah started being able tae see clearly wot I’d been sensin’ me whole life.”

  “Okay, that explains a few things,” Arthur said, “but I’ve only started to be able to see these things now. If I have this Sight, why haven’t I seen any kind of fae before this? I’ve even seen the lord’s wizards do their magic, but I’ve never seen a flash of magical energy come from them when they cast their spells like I have with the Witch. So why am I only seeing these things now?”

  “Honestly, Arty?” Melion said with the closest thing his canine shoulders could give to a shrug, “Beats me. Ah’ve heard that some folk don’t gain the Sight ‘til later in life, and there’s still others where their magic senses come and go, but ah’ve never been told why. Maybe ye’re just one of those cases, but ah’ve already told ye everythin’ ah know fer sure ‘bout the subject. Sorry if it don’ help ye much.”

  “Oh, it’s fine,” Arthur sighed. “I at least know more now than I did before I asked, so it’s not like I lost anything out of it.”

  “Glad tae know ye’re always eager tae learn,” as he stood back up and changed back to his human shape, his furred pelt returning to the form of his fur cloak. “Speakin’ of learnin’, how ‘bout we get started on yer newest lesson. We don’ know when I can next give ye one ‘fore ye go, so ah’ll be sure tae teach ye some of the good moves.”

  Eagerly, Arthur picked up one of the practice swords leaning against the wall, and his uncle made it over to grasp the other one. Then the master and student made their way to the mock ring at the center of the barn’s open space, and each made a ready stance opposite of each other.

  “Well?” Melion asked his nephew, “are ye ready tae begin?”

  “Ready when you are, Uncle,” Arthur replied, and both men drew their weapons…

  O – O – O

  Sighing as he closed his fist and lowered his hand, Arthur looked back to Morgan and said, “Maybe it’s for the best you can’t see these things. It hasn’t exactly helped me, after all…”

  Placing her hand on her brother’s shoulder, Morgan replied, “Don’t you start moping again. We’ve got your farewell party to look forward to, so let’s live in the moment while we still can, okay?”

  “If you say so. Speaking of which, you want to head home? I don’t want to be late to my own party.”

  “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  As the two started to walk home, Arthur asked Morgan, “I know we just promised not to dwell on these things, but I have to ask… do you think you’re going to be okay after I’m gone?”

  “Don’t worry,” Morgan sighed, “I should be fine. I’ll probably have less free time since I’ll have to cover your duties around here, but I guess I’ll grow to live with it. It’s not like I’ve been doing my tinkering all that much, anyway.”

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed you haven’t been working on your contraptions as often lately,” Arthur replied. “What’s with that?”

  With a deep sigh, Morgan began, “This… isn’t easy for me to talk about.”

  “It’s okay; you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  “No, it’s okay. It’s something I’ve been keeping to myself for a while, and I ought to let it off my chest before you go.”

  “Alright, so what is it you want to tell me?”

  “Well… I never really wanted to spend the rest of my life on the farm. Don’t get me wrong, I like living with you, and Ma and Pa, but farming’s not something I want to do for the rest of my life, you know? But tinkering around with clock parts and stuff has always been something I’ve really loved doing more than anything. So I thought one day, I’d leave the farm, join a clockworker’s guild, and do that kind of work for a living. Sure, we don’t have one here in town, but I figured I could move to the nearest city and join one there. That way, I wouldn’t be too far from home if I ever wanted to come back for a visit, or I could just stop by if I was ever travelling through the area on guild business.”

  After a moment to let it sink in, Arthur asked, “Why didn’t you ever tell any of us this before now?”

  “I didn’t think I needed to be in any hurry is all. I just figured you’d be around to inherit the farm when our folks passed on, so it wouldn’t be that big a deal if I wanted to do something else with my life. But then I got sick, and it seemed pointless to bring up my dreams for the future when it looked like I didn’t have any future left. And then you made that pact to save me, and now it looks like it’ll be up to me to keep the place running once our folks are gone.”

  “Morgan… I’m sorry.”

  “Eh, don’t worry about it. If you hadn’t have done what you did, I probably wouldn’t even be here today, so I guess it wasn’t meant to be either way. It was just a dream, anyway.”

  “I’ll… take your word for it. I’ve never really had any dreams or ambitions, myself. I was always satisfied to just tending our farm my whole life. So I guess neither of us got what we really wanted in the end, huh?”

  The two siblings shared a regretful sigh as they passed through the town gates and began making their way up the road to the Butcher farmhouse, before Morgan asked her brother, “Promise me something, Arthur?”

  “Sure, anything.”

  “Neither of us can mope for the rest of the night. The last thing our parents need is their son being a wet blanket for his own farewell party.”

  “I should be able to manage that just fine,” Arthur replied back with a smile. “After all, you’re the one who broke our agreement to live in the moment.”

  “Okay, you’ve got me there,” Morgan laughed as they began to walk uphill. “But promise anyway, please?”

  “Okay, I promise.”

  Eventually, the two made it up the hill and saw the lit windows of the family farmhouse. However, as they approached the house, the two saw a large, familiar silhouette just at the door, recognisable even through the falling snow.

  “Uncle Melion!” Arthur called, running towards his uncle at full speed as Melion himself turned around to greet him, soon followed by his sister.

  Upon hearing Arthur yell his name, Melion, seeming to be carrying a barrel attached to his back, turned his back to the door, and with a broad smile across his face, opened his arms to accept a great big hug from his niece and nephew.

  “I’m so glad you could come!” Arthur said happily, embracing his uncle tightly.

  “Wot, ye thought ah’d miss me favourite nephew’s goin’ away party?” Melion laughed heartily. “Ah wouldn’t miss this fer tae world!”

  “Glad to hear it Uncle,” Morgan said to Melion as she joined the embrace as well, before noticing the small barrel her uncle had strapped to her back and asking, “What’s that you’ve got on your back?”

  As he finished laughing, Melion looked down to Morgan and answered her, “Oh, this? Just a cask of ale ah picked up on me way here to liven up the party. An’ how’ve ye been, Morgan? Takin’ it easy like ah asked?”

  “Well, I did say no promises, didn’t I?”

  “Well, ah’d hoped ye’d honour me request fer yer folks’ sakes…”

  “Did you honour Pa’s request to play it safe on the job?”

  After a long, awkward silence, Melion broke his embrace with Arthur and Morgan and said, “Well, let’s not stand here in tae cold! We’ve got a party tae get tae!”

  “That’s what I thought,” Morgan said with an impish grin.

  It was then that the front door opened, and Melion turned around to see his brother Harold greeting the three of them.

  “Glad you could make it, Mel,” Harold welcomed his adoptive brother. “And I see you’ve brought the man of the hour back to his own party. So since we’ve got everyone here now, would you three like to come in and join the party?”

  Melion looked own to Arthur for the answer to that, who smiled and asked, “When do we start?”

  O – O – O

  While the Butchers’ household was nowhere near as extravagantly decorated as the town proper had been, but for Arthur’s last Solstice, it was simply breathtaking. A holly wreath had been hung above the door, and the rafters above everyone’s heads were draped with vines of ivy, which hung low enough to nearly graze the top of Melion’s head. A roaring fire had been lit in the hearth, a thick log burning at its center, making the house as warm as a home of peasant farmers could hope to be this deep into winter. In lieu of the magically coloured fires that lit the town square, upon every table in the house stood a lantern with coloured glass that cast light of all colours about the house to the same effect. The smell of a hot Solstice dinner wafted to the door all the way from the kitchen, carrying the scent of roast ham, mashed potatoes, and sauce of plum and redcurrant alike.  

  “Now, this be a sight,” Melion mused as he walked in. “No matter how far ah’ve traveled, no matter wot wonders ah’ve beheld, nothing ah’ve seen ever beats a good Solstice at home.”

  “I’m glad to hear you approve, Melion,” Summer said with a smile as she stepped out of the kitchen with a cooking apron over her outfit. “A Happy Solstice to you.”

  “And tae ye all as well! Say, is this old wolf’s nose deceiving me or does it smell like tae night’s dinner’s coming along well?”

  “Indeed it is, although you should be asking Arthur that,” Summer sighed as she handed her husband a pot of boiled greens to bring to the dinner table. “He cooked most of it. Harold and I were just taking over while he and Morgan stepped out for a walk.”

  “Really, Arty?” Melion laughed as Arthur himself made his way into the kitchen and grabbed himself a cooking apron hanging off of the wall. “They’re making ye cook the dinner fer yer own party?”

  “It certainly wasn’t our idea,” Summer sighed as she helped place the plum and redcurrant sauces on the table while Arthur opened the oven behind her to retrieve the roast boar. “Arthur was adamant about cooking the Solstice dinner. He was even hesitant to take that last walk into town until Morgan insisted he let us take over for a time.”

  “Yeah, well, you guys have always said you’ve liked my cooking,” Arthur replied as he pulled the boar out of the oven and carried it to the dinner table. “So I wanted to take this last opportunity to let you all enjoy it before I have to go tomorrow.”

  “Don’t worry too much about it, Arthur,” Morgan said as she followed her brother to the table, carrying the pot of mashed potatoes. “I’ll be sure to take over your share of the cooking when you’re gone. It’ll probably take a bit of trial and error to get as good as you, though.”

  Arthur shuddered as he placed the roast boar on the table. If there was only one thing he would not miss about his old life, it was Morgan’s cooking. He had sampled his sister’s past attempts in the culinary arts, and while he would never say as such to her face, from then on, every time she expressed interest in cooking the night’s meal he wondered if the family hogs would be willing to share their slop with him instead. At least, he thought, he would seldom be around to taste her future attempts.

  Arthur did not linger on that thought for long, as before the minute had passed, the whole Solstice dinner was on the table and ready to eat. Once the family was seated, everyone was given a wooden mug and their fill from the cask of ale that Melion had brought with him, even Morgan.

  Looking at her mother, Morgan asked, “Not gonna raise an objection to this, Ma? No reminders that I’m still underage for the next three months?”

  “Well, it’s a special occasion, so I can make a second exception,” Summer said before taking a sip from her own mug. “Just don’t expect a third time before your birthday in the coming year.”

  And so, the Butcher family dug in to their meal. The family enjoyed their food and drink, which was followed by a dessert of Solstice pudding once the meal was finished, they sang songs together, and listened to Melion weave bombastic tales about his recent adventures (which were probably more than a bit embellished) as the hours passed by, and before long, the moon had risen high into the sky, shining its light through the house windows with only hours to spare before the true Solstice Eve truly began at midnight.

  It was then, as the Butcher family sat in front of the roaring fire, that Harold Butcher stood up to make an announcement to his son.

  “Arthur,” he began, “we know you don’t normally expect much in the way of gifts this time of year, but given how this is your last Solstice here… each of us has gotten you something as a farewell present.”

  This was a surprise to Arthur. It was true that, because of the family’s lack of wealth, he and Morgan rarely received much in the way of presents. If their parents could afford to gift anything at all, it was usually something collectively given to both children, and if they were lucky enough to have to have Melion visit during the Solstice, he would bring Arthur and Morgan each something that he picked up during his travels, but that was all they could usually expect. So if he was receiving a gift from everyone here, then they truly were making every attempt to make his last Solstice count.

  “I…” Arthur began, taking a look at everyone around him, “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Ye’ll have time to find the words when ye open yer presents,” Melion told him as he made his way to a wooden chest by the door and opened it, taking out three gifts bound in string and brown wrapping paper, while taking another such gift out of his bags and walking back towards Arthur’s seat, handing him the first of the packages, a short and narrowly shaped one. “This first one be from yer old man.”

  “Well, thank you,” Arthur said as he began to tear the paper off of the package. “Thank all of you, really. I never expected you’d do all of this for me.”

  “Don’t thank us all, just yet,” Morgan told him as Arthur finished opening his first present. “Just thank us one at a time as you open them.”

  Looking down into the unwrapped present in his hands, Arthur saw that it was a sheathed foraging knife with a pale wooden handle, which he carefully unsheathed to reveal a curved, silvery blade.

  “Your mother and I have been thinking of what to get you for a while,” Harold explained to his son. “After quite a few scrapped ideas, we thought it would be best to each get you something that would come in useful in your new job, so we can still be with you in spirit after you’ve gone. I remembered that witch saying she’ll need you to go out and gather things for her, so I hope this foraging knife will come in handy for that.”

  “I’m sure it will,” Arthur replied. “Thank you, Pa.”

  Sheathing the new knife and placing it on the small table beside his chair, Arthur began to open the gift signed by his mother, which was flat and vaguely square shaped and felt soft under the packaging. Arthur guessed from the feel that it was an article of clothing of some variety, which was confirmed when he opened it to reveal a dark lime green cloak just his size.

  “I know it’s a bit cliché for a mother to worry about her child being caught in bad weather,” Summer began, “but I can’t help it. You’re no doubt going to working outdoors in that forest, and I doubt that new employer of yours is going to give you a day off because of rain. I also thought to pick a colour that might hopefully help you elude the gaze of that wood’s more dangerous inhabitants.”

  “Thanks, Ma,” Arthur smiled. “I’m sure it’ll help me avoid situations like my first venture into that place.”

  While giving a slight shudder at the reminder that her son was nearly eaten by a monster that one time, Summer gave Arthur a warm smile and a nod, telling him, “You’re very welcome.”

  “How about you open mine next?” Morgan suggested. “It’s something I’ve actually been working on myself, and I’ve been waiting since I finished it last month to see what you think of it.”

  Curious as to what Morgan could be referring to, Arthur began to open the gift signed with Morgan’s name, which revealed a hinged wooden box, which Arthur opened too. But when he saw what was inside, he only barely managed to hold back his tears. Lying atop a linen cushioning in the box was what looked like a brass clockwork bird about the size of a chicken egg, with a wind up key in its back.

  “Morgan…” Arthur breathed as he took the bird-like contraption out of its box, “you made this yourself?”

  “Yeah,” Morgan replied, seeming somewhat embarrassed. “It’s called an ornithopter. I read about them in a book on clockwork inventions at the town library once, so I wanted to sort of try my hand at making one. I’d gotten started on it before I got sick, and by the time I got back to working on it, I was already thinking of what I could get you for your going away present, so the timing just sort of worked out in the end.”

  Arthur legitimately didn’t know what to say. Just today Morgan had told him of her dream of becoming a clockwork inventor that she now had to give up, and here she had given him something she had planned to build as part of working towards that goal. He realised that his sister must have poured her heart and soul into building this gift for him… and he couldn’t help about feel guilty about it, even if he made sure not to show it on his face.

  “’Ornithopter?’” Harold inquired. “Is that some fancy word for a metal bird?”

  “Not really,” Morgan began to correct her father, “but it’s not entirely wrong, either. It refers to a kind of machine that’s built to mimic how birds- you know, it’s better to show you all. Arthur, put it on the floor and wind up the key, and you’ll see what it does.”

  Curious to see what his sister meant despite his guilt, Arthur got out of his chair and kneeled down on the floor, gently placing the ornithopter down there, and wound the key clockwise two times. In barely a second, the tiny machine unfurled its wings, which appeared to be a framework like a bat’s wings with the gaps filled by a cloth membrane, and to everyone but Morgan’s amazement, immediately flapped those wings and began to fly. It only barely rose an inch above the floor and covered about half a foot of distance before it landed again, but it was still unlike anything any of them had seen.

  “Morgan,” Arthur breathed, mouth agape in astonishment, “that’s incredible!”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think it’s as great as it could be if I had more time to work on it,” Morgan said modestly. “It can fly up to just under two feet, if you wind the key all the way. I’m actually kind of disappointed that I couldn’t get it to go farther.”

  “Don’t sell yerself short, now!” Melion contested Morgan with a hearty laugh. “Ah’ve seen the work of clockworkers’ guilds in big cities far and wide, and they’d be lucky tae have someone talented as you workin’ fer ‘em!”

  Arthur couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable about that comment, no matter how well-meaning Melion was when he made it. It seemed true that no one else knew about the dream Morgan had given up so she could pick up the slack in Arthur’s coming absence. Even Morgan seemed to visibly wince at being reminded of that fact, which the others noticed.

  “Morgan?” Summer asked with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing!” Morgan lied to reassure them. “I… I’m just really glad Arthur likes it, that’s all.”

  Attempting to change the subject, Morgan continued, “But enough about me, why don’t we top off the evening with Arthur opening whatever Melion got for him?”

  Arthur, just as eager to move on from a subject that was surely distressing his sister, did just that, moving on to what had first appeared to be a strangely shaped package signed with Melion’s barely legible signature, but upon closer inspection, was actually two packages tied together; one long and narrow, and the other short and rectangular.

  “Two presents?” Arthur said in surprise. “Uncle, you didn’t have to-“

  “Don’ tell me I don’ have tae do these things fer ye,” Melion interrupted his nephew. “Like yer folks, ah wanted tae give ye somethin’ ye’d get some use outta, and I jus’ happened tae git me hands on two things that should serve ye well in that forest. So no more complainin’ ‘bout it, jus’ go and open ‘em, Arty.”

  Arthur opened the smaller of the two, which turned out to be a rather thick book entitled, A Manual of Monsters: The Comprehensive Guide to Magical Beasts & Spirits, by Albertus Magnus.

  “As ye no doubt remember from last time,” Melion explained as Arthur flipped through the tome’s pages to view the vividly illustrated magical beasts accompanying the detailed descriptions on such creatures, “the forest ye’ll be workin’ in is home tae all sorts of dangerous creatures, so ah thought ye could use a guide on what tae expect in there and how tae avoid comin’ across ‘em. Ah’m not exactly a book lover meself, but luckily ah meet quite a few experts on such beasts in me line of work, so ah asked an old associate of mine tae recommend a guidebook that’s up tae date enough tae be useful, while still simple enough that ye don’t need to spend a few years at some royal university tae read it.”

  “Thanks, Uncle. I’m sure this will prove invaluable.”

  “Aye, it should be full of useful tidbits like not walkin’ in tae a basilisk’s lair,” Melion said with a wink.

  “Hey, in my defense, I didn’t know what a basilisk’s lair looked like,” Arthur half-jokingly protested.

  “Well, now ye can look it up in that there book tae find out.”

  “And I was also trying to hide from a pack of wargs that had just come out of nowhere to kill a giant boar!”

  “Wot, and ye think it’d be worth it for ‘em to chase after a lone, measly human after expendin’ all the effort it takes tae chase one of those brutes down?” Melion laughed. “’Sides, speakin’ as a warg meself, they’d probably be full after that. Those boars can easily feed a whole pack, but ye’d barely qualify as a snack, methinks.”

  “Can we please talk about something else?” Summer sternly asked the two, clearly not fond of how filling a meal her son would be as a topic of conversation.

  “Fair enough,” Melion conceded. “So why don’ ye open yer second one, Arty?”

  Arthur did so, opening the long, narrow gift, which turned out to be a tool that Arthur had become very familiar with thanks to his uncle: a sheathed arming sword.

  “Ah know how las’ time we discussed this, ah said how ah wasn’t teachin’ ye how to handle one of these so ye could go into that forest. But now, looks like that’s exactly wot ye’ll be needin’ one for.”

  Cautiously, Arthur took pulled the blade out of its scabbard and examined it. It was a double edged blade just the length of his forearm, with a short, straight crossguard, underneath which extended a black leather grip ending in a triangular pommel. But what was most striking about the blade, Arthur found, was that the sword was not made of steel, like he might have guessed, but pure iron.

  “Why give me an iron sword?” Arthur inquired his uncle. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful or anything, but I’m curious why that instead of steel.”

  “And under any other circumstances, ah would’ve given ye a steel blade, but here’s the thing,” Melion explained. “There’s more in that wood ye need tae worry ‘bout than just beasts of the flesh. There’s also fae and spirits that can be more easily deterred by iron than steel.”

  “I…” Arthur stammered as he slid the sword back in his scabbard, once again fully reminded of what he had gotten himself into when he made his bargain. “Thanks, Uncle.”

  But after Arthur had put down the sword with the rest of his presents, tears began to well up in Arthur’s eyes, and he began to cry.

  “Arthur?” Summer asked her son worriedly, getting out of her chair to be by his side, “what’s wrong?”

  “It’s…” Arthur sniffed. “It’s a lot of things. A lot of things wrong and a lot of things right, too.”

  As everyone gathered around Arthur’s chair, he continued, “I’m… I’m really grateful to all of you, you know?”

  “Don’t mention it, lad,” Harold reassured his son as he placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s your last Solstice here, so we needed to make it count.”

  “I don’t just mean for this, but for everything. We’ve never had much, but you’ve all still done everything you can for me and more, even as our home’s been falling apart.”

  “Arthur, dear,” his mother told him, “you don’t need to thank us for doing what a family should do.”

  “You’re probably right,” Arthur said sadly. “But it still just reminds me of how I threw it all away.”

  “Look Arthur, I’m still not thrilled about what you did either,” Morgan told him. “But I probably wouldn’t even be here today if you didn’t. Besides, remember how you promised no more moping tonight?”

  “Yeah, well it’s my party,” Arthur told his sister with a tearful grin, “and I’ll cry if I want to.”

  “C’mere, Arty,” Melion said softly as he pulled his nephew up to give him a great, big hug, which was quickly joined by his sister, and then his parents.

  “Thanks,” Arthur sniffed, “for giving me the best going away party I could have asked for… and being the best family I could have asked for.”

  “Don’t thank us, dear,” Summer told her son.

  “After all,” Harold added, “we couldn’t have done it without the best son we could have asked for.”

  “Or the best nephew,” Melion added.

  “Or the best brother,” Morgan topped it all off with.

  But eventually, this night too came to an end, and the Butchers tired and made their way to their beds, wishing each other a good night and a happy Solstice for their final night as a complete family in this house.

  All in all, Arthur supposed as he lied down to sleep the last night he would spend in his own bed, this had been the best Solstice party that he could have asked for.

  But the fact that it was to be his last made this night all the more bittersweet.

[theglassyhick]

Whose the Real Monster?

Don’t ask me ;w; It has been too long since I posted and I dun wanna talk about it ;w; Nothing bad, I am just lazy. BUT FIRST 

WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT?!?!?! Tis the character in this story, by the name of Michael.

Commission was done by my good friend @bluerainst0rm Go commission her, she is great. She also provided the prompt for this, so enjoy!

Words: 7083

Genre: Romance, Acton

Contains: Fluff, Violence

Setting: Fantasy World

Prompt: "Please stop! I'm not a monster!"

Demons descend on a small town. The only people who can defend it work with each to save as many as they can.

“You are out of chalk dust again?” The woman asked. Such a common and basic ingredient should be more well stocked. But when everyone needs it on a nightly basis…

“The Harvest Moon is tonight. Everyone says the more the merrier.” The shopkeeper said with a shiver as he scurried around the shop. “Here, I’ll find you what I can.” He turned around and pressed a burlap sack into her arms. “You are a wizard yes?” The woman nodded. “Good. These are dried Angel Petals.”

“Don’t you need holy water to make these? Where did you get so much?” The young wizard reached into the sack and pulled out the white rose petal. The edges were gold. “I… I have only worked with young ones. These are fully mature…”

“I’ve been growing them for years. Seven years, to be exact.” He smiled proudly. “with such a powerful ingredient, I had a feeling even a young wizard such as yourself could make a powerful warding pot.”

The wizard was too in awe to smile. “I-I need salt. And, and Hawthorne berries soaked in holy water, and spring water! There is a cauldron in my house!” She jumped a little. “And the blood of the spotless lambs! Come on, the warding pot we make will last for weeks!”

“But… The Harvest Moon...” The shop keeper stopped her. “You know how active they get. The Demons will be hunting for us. If you are right, then we need to get you somewhere safe. Stay with me and my wife.” The shopkeeper was walking back to the counter. “Just come back before the sun sets, alright?” The young wizard nodded as she left the store, clutching the Angel Petals to her chest. The shopkeeper cleared his throat. She blushed as she turned around and handed the sack of petals back to him.

“I’ll see you tonight!” She called over her shoulder. She strolled out of the shop and into the cobblestone street with a skip in her step. After all, Angel Petals were rare. She was holding diamonds. With those petals, a whole array of potions and enchantments were now open to her experimentation. Now, her research into celestial spirit summoning would skyrocket as well! “This truly is a red-letter day.” The wizard hummed as she walked to the tavern to buy herself a celebratory drink. “So, I will treat myself~”

She had arrived at her destination after ten minutes of walking. The tavern formed the center of the town. Five other roads spread out from the tavern. Most of the buildings lining the roads were homes, but a few had signs to indicate some sort of service. The town was a bit big for their isolated location, and well populated. Farming fields were outside with a few scattered homes. The wizard lived in a squat tower on the other side of town, towards the fringes. She opened the door and stepped into the tavern. Her smile fell. The tavern was empty, making the wizard frown unhappily. She was looking forward to a bit of boasting, a bit of teasing, and a lot of fun. She scanned left and right, then smiled as she saw there was someone at the bar. He was tall and slim, with a tarnished white cloak lined with black fur, and long black hair.

She looked down, adjusting her rich purple cloak so it was more of a cape. She fluffed her hair out so the long, strawberry blond locks cascaded down her back. Finally, she brushed the salt and chalk dust from her blue skirt and unbuttoned the top her red-dyed blouse. She was in a good mood. She wanted to have fun with the man.

“Clara, nice to see you tonight.” The barkeeper said with a smile. “Or, well, anyone.” Clara smiled back at him.

“They are just worried about the Harvest Moon. I almost forgot about it. I was so busy perfecting a spell, what day it was day slipped my mind.” She admitted with a bit of a chuckle. “May I have some wine please? And, who is he?” Clara didn’t want the stranger to know she had her eyes on him. With a wine glass in hand and full, she took a sip and listened.

“Don’t know.” the burly man shrugged as he rested his elbow against the counter. “He came in a few days ago. Doesn’t say much.” The young wizard smiled softly.

“Thank you~” The barkeep smirked as he got the message and made his way into a back room. The other man was sitting on the corner of the bar, sipping some water. The Wizard stood from her seat and walked over to the stranger, taking a seat beside him. The cup was raised to his lips was placed down as he noticed his company. “Hello sir! I don’t think we have been introduced. I am Clara, of the Starry Field.” She offered her hand. The man stared at it. Clara remembered the more formal academy greetings were not used in this town. However, he caught her fingers and brought them to his lips.

“Michael, of the Empty Void.” He introduced himself. “I didn’t expect to find someone invested in celestial magic so far from a library with star charts.”

“Nor did I expect to find someone well versed in void magic.” Clara smiled softly as she tilted her head. “Quite the unknown field.” Michael snickered a little bit at the pun. However, he did not turn to face her.

“It’s funny, cause the void is often empty, or referred to as ‘unknown’.”  He smiled as he turned to look at Clara. The celestial mage smiled as well, but covered her lips as Michael turned away in embarrassment. “R-Right… explaining a joke ruins the fun… Uh, sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Clara reached out and touched his hand. “It was a little unclear. I am glad you found it humorous though.”

“Let me get you a drink.” Michael rose his hand to order. Then realized the tavern keeper wasn’t here. And she already had something to drink. He lowered his hand slowly. “Um, I guess that is unnecessary…” He stopped talking when Clara giggled softly. Their eyes finally met, and she realized his were red. Despite the odd color, the eyes were still vibrant enough for Clara to smile at him. She reached out and stroked his cheek.

“Your eyes are beautiful. They are the same color as spring roses.” Michael’s only response to the compliment was a blushing face. He looked down at his hands. For a moment, Clara wondered if she had gone too far.

“Thank you.” The void wizard looked to the star mage with a small smile and with red cheeks. “I… I don’t get a lot of compliments, e-especially from such a beautiful woman.”

“Well now aren’t you a charmer?” Clara wrapped her arms around his, leaning against his side and pressing her soft chest against him. With the upper buttons undone, it was quite easy to see her breasts. Michael’s eyes widened and his cheeks matched the shade of his eyes.

“O-Oh…” Clara was well aware of where his gaze fell as she leaned further against him and looked up at his face. Michael’s eyes had to dart between her ocean blue ones and her exposed cleavage. He found both as desirable sights. He couldn’t decide which he wanted to burn into his memory.

“If I might make a suggestion, I would say the eyes,” Clara smirked when Michael’s mouth opened a little to express his confusion and his panic. “You remain a gentleman. And I would much rather spend the night of the harrowing Harvest Moon in the arms of a gentlemen.”

“Well, then uh, I guess I only have to pay attention to one amazing feature.” The compliment, while smooth, was not nearly as elegant as it could be. Clara still smiled at the compliment regardless.

“Do you imply I only have two amazing features?” The wizard batted her eyes shyly up at Michael. Yes, it was a cruel tease. But this Michael was so cute when he was flustered!

“N-No!” Michael’s eyes were wide as he shook his head quickly. “Not at all! It is just, well, you have many attractive qualities,” A shy laugh accompanied his assurance as he rubbed he back of his head.

“Dawwww, you are so cute,” Michael smiled at Clara’s compliment. “Don’t worry about messing up. I find your shyness absolutely charming.”

“O-Oh?”

“Yes. Usually strangers are so grim and tight-lipped. But you seem friendly,” The wizard watched with a supposedly kind smile as Michael became more and more relaxed over the course of their conversation. He was falling right into her little trap. The trap was further added to with the occasional tankard of beer Clara bought for the shy boy as they spoke.

“Tell me about your grimoire!” Clara’s eyes were lit up as she reached into her cloak, “This one is mine. Thanks to my neat hand writing, I can fit many spells in this lil thing,” She presented a leather-bound notebook. It was big enough to fit in just one hand, and not nearly as cumbersome as some of the massive Grimoire’s other wizards had to carry around. The wizard opened the book with a tipped her head back and a smile, happy to display her work. He thumbed through the pages and quickly eyed each neat line of text.

“What about your grimoire?” The strawberry blond wizard eagerly rested her elbows on the counter after he set her grimoire down. “I would love to see what kind of unique spells litter those pages~”

“Well, it isn’t a book.” Michael reached down and plucked at his cuff.

“Wait, you don’t mean to say…” The wizard trailed off as Michael pulled his sleeve back. Various ruins and spells were inked onto his arm. “You are a demon hunter.” She mused. Michael looked away.

“Folly, I know. But- “

“Heroic is the word I would use!” Clara’s hands clasped over her chest as she closed her eyes. “Oh, you go out in dark of the night, spells etched into your arm with a blade in the other hand. You track down the monsters who torment us, and do you best to protect us! It’s so romantic.” Clara smiled up at Michael. “Why, if I was staying at my home tonight, I would offer you a bed just for that.”

“W-Wait, you mean you… Uh you are- I mean are you trying to say that…” Michael blushed as he trailed off as he rolled his sleeve back down.

“So cute.” She smiled and stroked his cheek. “But the moon is rising, and I really must get to the shopkeeper’s. He offered to let me stay at his place with his wife.” She stood from her stool and brushed the dust off her blue skirt. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Michael of the Empty Void.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Clara of the Starry Field.” Michael’s jaw was hanging a little, staring at Clara as she walked away. He was surprised she offered to spend the night with him. Clara was waiting patiently as she neared the door. “Wait, Clara!”

“Yes?” Michael called to her just as Clara had planned. He approached her with her grimoire in his hand.

“You left this on the counter.” He offered the book to her. Clara feigned a surprised look before she accepted the notebook.

“Thank you very much.” She rested a hand on his chest. Clara pushed Michael gently until he was walking in the direction she so wanted.

“Well, I mean, w-who wouldn’t? R-Return it I mean!” He noticed Clara’s almost predatory gaze. Michael’s legs collided with something. Her gentle push sent Michael toppling backward into the booth, and she followed. As his back crashed onto the seat, Clara’s lips crashed onto his. It was a simple peck, followed by more and more kisses. The woman had her hands on Michael’s chest as she straddled his waist and peppered him with soft kisses. “C-Clara, I…” he trailed off as she held the kiss for a few extra seconds to silence him.

“Thank you~” She muttered against his lips. Her eyes gazed into his. She relaxed while Michael was stiff. With each kiss, Michael’s body softened. She ran her hands over his chest; beneath his shirt was quite a firm body, probably due to his occupation. Michael returned the favor by slowly raising his hands and stroking Clara’s back. She moaned lightly into the kiss and let Michael know she approved. The gentle and intimate contact and stoking only lasted a short time. Clara bit Michael’s lower lip, surprising him. He opened his mouth to say something but Clara simply took advantage. She deepened the kiss. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and graced his with gentle strokes, running over his teeth and the roof of his mouth. She moaned more to reward Michael’s firm strokes to her back. Clara gasped when his hands slipped to her rear and gave a squeeze. Michael leaned forward and pushed his tongue into her mouth now and took over the kiss.

Clara submitted, letting his tongue move around her mouth. She moaned as she felt his tongue swiping over her teeth as they two intimately kissed. Clara slowly pulled away, a small strand of salvia connecting their lips. She let out a muffled noise as Michael quickly leaned up and captured her lips again as he continued to massage her rear. Clara stroked his chest and groaned as she felt his teeth scrape against her lip. Her hand slid around his neck and pulled his head closer as she rocked her hips against his. The shy demon hunter below her groaned in response. She pulled away and pushed herself up, looking down and still gently rocking her hips.

“Thank you so much for returning my grimoire.” She purred before sliding off his lap. “If you are still in town tomorrow, you should really find me. We can continue this then~” The wizard gave a small wave to the confused young man. She left the tavern, quite proud of her work on him. She outdid herself.

The shopkeeper lived in a house attached to the back of his shop. Clara walked for another fifteen minutes till she was there once more, and the shop keeper greeted her kindly. The house was a simple place, just a sitting room with a double bed in the corner. A few windows completed the setting. The shopkeeper’s wife was kind and welcoming. Clara was soon sipping tea with the couple. All was well and good, and the wizard was starting to relax. She looked out a window and shivered though. The demons were descending upon the town.

They were all strange combinations of humans and other various animals. There were two kinds of demons: Major and Minor. The minor ones were all similar. Body of a human, goat legs and hooves, clawed hands, forked tongues. Lidless, beady eyes and wild hair. All of them raving mad as they hunted for anyone foolish enough to have not put up the basic defenses. The major ones were more terrifying. None of them resembled each other, and all barely resembled humans. Their eyes shone with an intelligent light as they stalked down the cobble stone streets and searched alongside their minor counterparts. The chalk circles around each house kept the demons from accessing the people hiding inside. Normal chalk wouldn’t work, but this special chalk was blessed by a preacher. They all stopped at the circles and hissed and spat as they refused to cross over the line. Clara smirked.

A demon turned to look at her through the window. It was an ugly thing who walked on four legs. Those legs were the same as a bear’s, while the body resembled a lion. It’s neck and head was a thick snake, and a scorpion’s stinger replaced the tail. The demon stepped closer and closer to the window. It sat on its haunches and continued to stare at Clara with those lidless eyes. Clara smirked and raised the cup of tea she was drinking.

“Cheers~” She told him. The shop keeper was staring at the demon oddly.

“Dear, um, how far away did you make the chalk circle?” Clara looked to the shopkeeper. Worry sprang onto the wizard. The shopkeeper looked to his wife as he awaited the answer to her question.

“Oh, quite far away.” She was smiling at the demon who was looking in the window. “But of course, the chalk isn’t blessed. It’s just regular chalk. I swapped out the bags.” The wife chuckled as she tilted her head. Her face shimmered as a glamour was lifted. The wife’s eyes were glassy and blank. She rose her arm to reveal scars had been cut into her. Ancient runes made this half of the spell label her as a puppet. The teacup shattered as it fell from Clara’s hands.

Clara pulled out a knife from her cloak and slashed her finger tips.

The Demon rose its arm and had the other half of the spell etched into his flesh. It said master.

Clara pulled her grimoire out of her cloak. She flipped it open to a well memorized place in the book.

The demon reared up and slammed his arms against the wall. It creaked and groaned. The windows fractured.

Clara swiped his fingers along the pages. The runes glowed with arcane energy and collected on her finger tips.

The demon reared back to slam against the wall.

Clara smirked.

The arcane energy flew and hit the wall. The demon was blasted back with the debris. Clara rushed forward and leapt through the new hole. She dragged her bloody finger tips over another five spells conjured five orbs of energy. They condensed into one orb in her palm and fired into the demon and blew his head apart.  She looked around and bit her lip. Demons were attacking the houses now. Upon seeing the major demon do it, they quickly realized it was safe. With nothing to hold them back, the town was quickly falling apart. Clara watched as Demons dove through windows and shredded doors apart. Families ran from their home and away from demons, while a brave few fought back with varying success. She needed to reach her house. She could make a warding pot and drive the demons away.

Clara leapt off the demon’s body and ran. Her feet pounded the cobble stones and made her presence clear. A demon dove at her with, its visage fierce and its arms spread wide. She flipped to a page in her grimoire, spread her blood along a spell and flung it at the demon. The spell exploded in a star burst pattern and dissolved the demon into dust. Another ran up to her. This one charged low at her legs, with blood-streaked hands. Clara already had another spell ready and flung it at the demon. A cluster of bright lights launched from her finger tips. They formed spears id flight and pinned the creature down. It shrieked and cried, but Clara left it behind as she charged down the street. Clara came to a stop in front of the tavern. She paused as the red light surrounded her. Everything burned around her. Lanterns must have been knocked over as people tried to escape. She took a deep breath. She had priorities. The demons had to be removed. The lives had to be saved. Then, the fire put out.

Clara ran forward and readied another spell as a group of seven demons burst into the square. One of them pointed out her and barked. The others followed with howls as they rushed her, some on all fours, some on two feet. She fired off a ball of compressed gas. It exploded into hot plasma and scorched the demons. Their screams were drowned out by the sound of the air roaring as it was heated then cooled. The demons were not the only danger to Clara. The fire was spreading. The smoke was robbing her of much needed oxygen. Her legs ached and burned. Each heavy foot fall sent pain through her foot to her calf. But adrenaline helped to keep her legs moving, despite how sloppy her run was becoming. She smiled as she spotted her house, which had three stories and there was taller than the other buildings.

Not all was well. Sitting in front of her door was a large, Major Demon. It was a beast of a creature, with scaly human legs, a bear’s body, and the long thick arms of an ape. The head was a lion, with massive tusks as well. The demon looked to Clara and smirked as it approached her. The wizard smirked back. She quickly turned around and dove through the broken window of a burning building. She flipped through the pages of her note book as she pressed herself against the opposite wall.

The demon charged the building, crouched low, and swung his head and arms up against the weakened wall. It shattered and the debris was sent flying at Clara. Her spell was ready. With a flick of her wrist she sent the glowing energy out to the flying debris. It was a pea sized ball of compressed gas and energy. The ball exploded out and sent all the splinters right into the demon. Shards of glass and wood embedded them self into the demon as it flew back. Clara ran out through the hole, flipping to another spot and swiping her blood laced fingers over the spell. She directed the energy to the demon, and what appeared to be a star from the sky itself fell onto him with the speed of a lead ball. It smashed into the demon and exploded into a bright, burning light.

“Thank you so much!” Clara said as she ran past the splat of gore on the ground. “I’ve been wanting to test that!” Clara collided with the door to her tower and shoved the key into the lock. She tumbled past the threshold and pulled the door shut behind her. The base floor of her house was empty of any sort of furniture. It was filled with shelves, and racks held dried or preserved ingredients. A stair case lea to her sitting room on the second floor. She rushed forward ad grabbed her first ingredient for the warding pot, which was a jar of Hawthorne berries preserved using holy water. Clara slammed the bottle against the inside of her cauldron. She moved to the next ingredient and pulled out flecks of glass from her hand.

The door was broken as a lesser demon forced his way into the house. Clara turned around, pulled her knife from her cloak, and threw it with a deft hand. The small surgical knife embedded itself in the demon’s throat. Clara quickly pulled her grimoire out and flipped open to the middle page and flung a bolt of light at the demon. It screeched in pain as the bolt bored a red hole in its chest and blasted it out of her house. Another ran in past it, only to be blasted apart by Clara. Her next move was to run to a different rack and thrust her hand past the dried ingredients to grab what she needed. She threw it over her shoulder and into the pot. There was a sigh of relief as the pot clanged.

“Next ingredient, next ingredient… ARGH, what was it?!” She growled as she darted to several hanging herbs. She snatched off several herbs, dropping them in the pot as she passed it. Five large frozen toads were thrown in next. Clara barked a quick sentence in an ancient language and set the wood beneath the cauldron alight.

A fist slammed into her chest and sent Clara flying through a rack. Jars shattered and bags burst. A demon bared down on Clara. He was slashed with jagged claws. The wizard held up her sleeve. The claws tore into the sleeve and caught on the fabric, which made the demon struggle to pull his hand back. The wizard below the demon began to recite a long spell. The creature lunged to bite her neck. She thrust her arm forward. Shark teeth met her bones.

“AHHHHHH!!” The ancient mutterings continued as energy built up on her finger tips. It exploded from her hand as she shouted her last word. The demon was blasted away, but rose to his feet and snarled. Clara dived for her grimoire, flipped to a specific page, and swiped her blood along a spell. The demon leapt again. Clara rolled to her back and released the ball of energy on her palm. It collided with the demon. The creature bloated before exploding into a shower of blood and drenched her and the notebook. She covered the grimoire with her arm, which kept the blood off. Clara picked some of the glass out from the back of her legs, her red shirt much darker than it originally was. She reached up to grab a leather bag of holy water and poured it into the cauldron. Her eyes cast to the door, where several demons were approaching.

She should have finished this warding pot by now. It had dragged on for too long. Clara pulled out her grimoire and winced. There was still glass in her leg. The four demons tried to crowd in. Clara prepared another spell, but never had the chance to use it. A scaled arm capped with a clawed hand grabbed one of the demon’s head from behind. The head was crushed in a blast of gore. As the body dropped, another clawed hand reached in and dug its claws into a second demon. Clara could clearly see the way long, hooked claws dug into the demon’s chest. The clawed hand wrenched the demon back, tearing the chest open and flinging it over the owner’s back. Clara finally saw the new demon’s head. It was a raven’s skull, with glowing red eyes.

The other demons turned to screech at the newest monster. The Bird Skull lunged forward and opened it’s sharp, hooked beak. It dug into a demon’s stomach and disemboweled the fiend, leaving it to screech in terror and pain. The final one leapt to slash at the Bird Skull’s eyes. Bird Skull’s arm shot forward and slammed into its head to pin it to the ground. Upon second glance, it was not just an arm. A thick, black, leathery membrane was attached to the arm making it a wing. Using the wing arm, he slammed the demon’s head into the ground until there was a crack. Bird Skull finally walked into the house, through the hole Clara had made. She gaped.

The demon stood well over seven feet tall. She could see more of him aside from a horrid head and leathery wings. His body was covered in some sort of leathery hide. Bones sat on his skin and were armor for him. An entire ribcage protected his chest, while spinal segments protected his back. His arms were coated in dark scales and his hands were tipped with sharp claws. It had a tail, long and prehensile, and tipped with an arrow shaped, sharp looking bone. It was long enough to drag along the ground, and was probably used for balance.

The Bird Skull Demon looked down on Clara as his wings settled onto his shoulders and covered his body to be a leathery cloak. He tilted his head as he looked down on her. With the moonlight flowing in behind the demon, his black scales took on a bluish sheen. He had a belt with a bundle of three rods hanging from it, as well as a sword with a long and curved blade. Most demon’s used claws and teeth. Clara thought to herself and tried to formulate a plan. She had a spell ready. She rose her hand, and the demon did as well. She paused.

“If you can keep the demons away from me, I can make a warding pot.” The wizard let her hand lower, and the determined glare on her face melted into a friendlier smile. The demon breathed slowly, then nodded at Clara’s statement. He ducked his head to leave, and Clara turned her attention to her warding pot. She just needed to finish it.

Bird Skull towered above the other demons at seven feet six inches. They had noticed by now something was off about one of their stronger kin. The lesser demons formed a circle around him barking and gnashing their teeth. Their ransacking of the village evolved to silent tension. A few burnt buildings crackled, but no one flinched. A beam fell from the rafters and crashed into the ground. The ceiling followed.

A lesser demon flung itself at the Bird Skull demon’s back. Bird Skull’s wing extended from his back and slammed into the demon. The lesser Demon hit the ground with a thump. Bird Skull stepped up and stabbed his talons into the lesser demon’s chest, digging them into the demon and crushing the ribcage before pushing the bone shards into his lungs and organs with a stomp.

Another Demon leapt at Bird Skull. Using his talons, Bird Skull grabbed the demon beneath him and spun around, throwing the body at the leaping one. They collided in the air. Bird Skull rushed forward and snatched the still living one from the air by the arm. He grabbed onto the lesser demon’s shoulder and tore the arm off with a loud ripping noise. It screeched in pain before being slammed to the ground. Bird Skull dug his claws into his throat and tore the soft flesh as he stood.

The rest descended on him, tired of this silly one at a time game. Bird Skull drew his sword in a clean stroke and slashed open a lesser demon. He whipped around to his right and slashed another one before ducking under a third’s swipe. His sinuous slash continued and severed the legs of several demons. As the arc ended, Bird Skull flipped the blade around to a reverse style. He rose to his feet as he spun and slashed at those around him in a circle, forcing the lesser demons to back off and give him some breathing room. He pulled the bundle of three rods from his belt. Several demons charged at him. Two to his right, one in front, and the fourth leaping at his back.

Bird Skull stepped forward and sunk his sword into the Lesser Demon’s chest and released it. The one about to land on his back was smacked away by his wings. He twisted to his right and faced the two lesser demons. The first slashed with his claws, only to have Bird Skull smash his rods against the lesser Demon’s hands and shatter the bones with a crunch. Bird Skull’s empty hand grabbed onto the demon’s hand and quickly slammed it against the demon next to him. The demon was knocked to the ground, allowing Bird Skull to slash his throat out with the talons on his feet. The one in his hand stared up at Bird Skull, who slowly raised the rods in his hand. The demon got a much better look. Three heavy looking, metal rods, each two feet in length. One rod was capped with a long, rectangular ruby. He slammed it against the demon’s head.

THWUMP

Again

THWUMP

Again

CRACK

Bird Skull let the demon fall with its head cracked open and leaking brain matter. The circle around Bird Skull widened. They all leapt on him. Bird Skull dived away from the pile, reclaiming his sword from a corpse. He jumped as soon as his hand was around the hilt, his wings sending him flying into the air as he landed on the roof of a house. The demons howled as they scrambled up the house to him. Bird Skull took a deep breath. He released a few latches on his bundle of rods. With a simple spin, it extended into a single staff. He connected the staff to his sword and formed a scythe.

The demons were on the roof now, leaping at Bird Skull from all angles. With speed and precision, each was cut down mid light. All who tried to approach him for a tackle were easily decapitated before Bird Skull would deftly swing his scythe and slice another demon into two pieces. Body parts, organs, and limbs piled around Bird Skull in a morbid circle, as not a single demon managed to reach striking distance.

A roar alerted Bird Skull to the approach of two more larger, more powerful demons. Wolf walked on four scaled, wolf-like limbs, yet had the body of a lion and the head of a wolf, as well as a pair of wicked horns. The Major Demon moved lithely from roof top to roof top in a subconscious display of skill. The other was a lot simpler. Stalking along the streets was a behemoth with the legs and head of a bull, but the body of a bear. Scales protected the beast’s chest and arms. It was nigh nine feet tall, and so wide it barely fit in the streets.

Bird skull rose his hand and drew a long cut down his arm. The cut ran beside a series of runes etched onto his scales. As the blood coated the runes, arcane power filled the etchings and made them glow with faint light. Wolf snarled loudly at Bird Skull

“Kin!” The Major Demons roared as it stalked along the gables. “Why do you slaughter your own kind? Is it not the humans who hate us without cause? Is it not the humans who have violated our sacred lands and branded us as demons? Speak, o’ traitor, and perhaps you may be reconciled. I understand that you may be one of our more…” Behemoth bellowed as he tossed his head back. “… Less organized ilk. But, you are still one of us,” Wolf sat on his haunches. His ears were perked, and his head tilted down in a posture of non-aggression. Bird skull seemed to think for a minute. A line of runes glowed on his arm as he threw his wing arm out. A tendril of darky, inky matter flew from the membrane.

Wolf jerked to his feet to leap away to a nearby roof, but the matter hit his hind legs and wrapped around them. He crashed against the edge of a roof, claws digging into the tiles as he tried to pull himself up.

Bird Skull dashed forward, wings propelling him through the air, and cut Wolf in half with a single slash of his scythe. Wolf’s entrails landed alongside his legs with a plop, his upper half soon following as the life drained from the demon. Behemoth bellowed in agony as he charged at Bird Skull. The treacherous demon leaped into the air with a flap of his wings, watching the massive demon miss and demolish the wall he had thrown himself into. As Bird Skull landed, more runes glowed on his arm. Behemoth turned on a dime and lashed out with a round house kick to Bird Skull. He didn’t expect the brute to turn so quickly, and was hit right on his shoulder and catapulted away. Bird Skull kept a tight grip on his scythe as he rolled across the ground and stood up, growling. Behemoth charged again, lowering his head to ram Bird Skull with his horns and tusks. Bird Skull charged back at the same time.

At the last second, Bird Skull dodged to the side and swung his scythe at Behemoth’s shoulder. The blade dug into Behemoth’s shoulder and allowed Bird Skull to use the scythe as a hook to spin around the demon’s body and landed on his shoulders. The blade was now under behemoth’s left arm, with the staff across his back. Bird Skull thought he had won as he yanked on the scythe to slice Behemoth apart. His scythe didn’t budge from its spot. Behemoth reached up and grabbed Bird Skull, throwing him through the air. He crashed into a burning building and bounced off the wall.

Bird Skull landed on all fours and darted off, running as a four-legged animal runs. Behemoth who roared and stepped forward with hopes of crushing Bird Skull under foot as the smaller demon closed the gap. Bird Skull dove to the side to dodge the stomp. He dug the claws on his wing arm into the ground as a set of runes lit up on his arms. Due to how big Behemoth was, Bird Skull nimbly ran between his legs as he made a line in the dirt underneath him. Once he was behind the larger demon, dark tendrils burst from the line he had just created. They wrapped around Behemoth and restrained him, at least for a while. Bird Skull kicked off from the ground and flapped his wings for the extra bit of force. He landed on his opponent’s shoulders and rose a taloned foot, kicking his scythe and freeing it from the tough scales of the massive demon. Bird Skull kicked off Behemoth’s shoulders. He caught his scythe out of the air and spread his wings, darting out of Behemoth’s reach and landing on the roof. He stood up and held his scythe at his side. Behemoth charged and swung his arm at Bird Skull.

Bird skull leapt off the roof and hit the ground with a roll. He spun out of the roll and slashed at Behemoth’s leg. A long streak of red followed the glistening blade as the beast’s tendon was severed. Behemoth twisted around and slammed his fist in the ground where Bird Skull used to be standing. Instead, Bird Skull had dashed under his legs and was already behind Behemoth. With another deft slash, he cut apart the Major Demon’s leg once more. Behemoth collapsed to his hands and knees. Bird Skull leapt up onto his back as more runes along his arm lit up. A ball of some sort of energy formed in his palm. It was black, and even though it was round, it appeared to be a flat circle of black energy. The edges seemed to be unstable and constantly tearing. Bird Skull quickly passed the energy to his scythe. It coated the blade as Behemoth reached up to grab him once more. Bird Skull slashed Behemoth’s arm off. He bellowed in pain as Bird Skull swung again, cutting Behemoth’s head off in a single clean slice.

There was enough blood to form a small stream as the body fell to the ground, Bird Skull smoothly stepping off. More demons circled him as the black energy faded from his blade. He held it in both hands. His hands shook. He coughed and retched. The scythe dropped from his hands as he fell on all fours. Bird Skull retched and hacked as he felt strength leaving him. He was not the only one to suffer this effect. The minor demons were retching as well as they ran away.

Clara was walking up, the cauldron floating by her shoulder as she walked around town. She planted it beside her, not noticing Bird Skull as the demons fled. The town’s people returned as well, spears, knives, and pitchforks in their hands as they killed any demon caught in the scent of the warding pot.

“There! A Major Demon!” Clara looked over and covered her mouth. It was Bird Skull, retching and hacking as the warding pot sapped his strength. The potion was stronger against major demons, which was why he had yet to escape. The townspeople were grabbing him by the arm and hoisting him up. He coughed more frantically. No… he was… speaking.

“No!” His strangled voice was hard to understand. “S-Stop! Please stop! I’m not a monster!” Clara felt a pang in her heart. She should look away. Demons were crafty. Yet, he had saved her, and defended her from demons so she could create this potion, knowing it would affect him. It was a selfless act. That, and his eyes. His voice. Clara’s eyes widened as she saw the tattoos on his arm. She rushed forward, shoving people out of her way. There was a man pressing a knife to the demon’s throat as he struggled weakly. He tried and speak again, but he was silenced. The blade was drawing blood.

“CEASE!” Clara grabbed the man by the shoulder and pulled him away, shoving him behind her. She rose her hand to her mouth and bit her finger till blood dripped from it. She reached out to draw something on Bird Skull’s forehead while chanting. When she finished, the bloody rune glowed red before the blood seemed to merge with Bird Skull’s skull, leaving the blood rune in place. She looked at the people around her.

“This demon is MY familiar now! He is under MY command, he is MY responsibility, and he under MY protection!” The towns people seemed to bristle, but the mumbles spread across the group. After all, she had saved their town and their lives. “Now BACK away from MICHAEL!!!” Blood was staining her teeth and dripping from her fingers. The demon at her side slowly stood… and began to change. As Clara turned around, she found herself face to face with the same black-haired man from the tavern. He looked down at her with tear filled red eyes.

“Y-You want… you want a demon like me?” Michael asked her gently. His arms were stiff at his side. He was in his usual clothes, but his cloak was gone.

“Half demon.” Clara corrected as she reached up and stroked his cheek to wipe away a tear. “Otherwise you wouldn’t HAVE a human form. And of course, I want you. You saved my life.” Michael sniffled a little, but smiled. “And…” She pulled his head down and pressed her lips to his. Michael’s eyes went wide. His hands lifted and landed on her shoulder. After a second pulled her closer. “You are a great kisser.” She whispered with a playful light in her eyes. Michael smiled down at her.

“And I REALLY need help cleaning my house.”