Silver Bright — The Witch of Despair

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This story and its original idea belongs to Mistopia. All rights reserved. October 27 2017. ©

1. One

 

    "Enter..." Called the witch to the boy. It was raining, as it usually was. The scrawny boy moved from the door, right to The Witch's feet. She inspected the boy as if he were something odd, almost like an illness. The kid got down and kneeled before the powerful woman, and waited for permission to speak. She waved her hand upwards and signaled that she was listening. 

        "Oh Great one, I've come to you to ask for your help. My family... My town... everything I've known is gone. Burned down to a crisp by bandits who wield fire magic."

      The witch arched an eyebrow, now intrigued. 

     "And where does my part come into this little story?" She hummed.

           The boy breathed in a few times, "I want to avenge my town. Get them their peace to lay their souls down. I come to you asking for power, so that I may be able to stand my ground." 

    The witch cackled to herself, laughing something wicked from the boys request. It was indeed one of the silliest things she'd ever heard. To avenge the dead? From people certainly stronger than him? Hah! It was so immature. So corrupted! So... blood thirsty. The Witch ceased her laughing and looked down at the boy once more. She licked her lips within the shadows that covered her throne. 

      "So… in other words, you want revenge?" She teemed, beginning to tap her fingers on the edge of the arm rest. The boy gulped, right before he nodded. Determination filled his eyes, being thrown in with the mix of a broken soul. 

        There was no doubt about it. If this boy were given the chance... He'd slay every last one of the bandits, without a trace of mercy in his actions. No hesitations. No prisoners. And that was just the way she liked it. 

   "How?" The witch said. 

      The boy looked at her, slightly confused. 

       "If I help you, how will you carry out your plan?" She scoffed. 

 The boy evaded eye contact, and strung out a long 'uh'. 

  The witch rolled her eyes and folded her hands together on her lap. She sighed, "You DO have a plan, don't you?" 

      The boy rubbed the nape of his neck, still avoiding her eye contact. There was just something about this woman who startled every sense in his body. Like she was controlling him as her puppet. Moving the strings according to her own devious plot, leaving no say in it for the boy. She was indeed intimidating, and that's an understatement. 

        "Not.... Not yet." Mumbled the boy. 

     The witch sighed in disappointment, before she leaned back into the shadows. "Humph. Then I'm afraid I cannot help you."

The boy shot his head towards the witch. His eyes were full of a pleading glance. "Please! Silver Bright! I need this! I'll do anything! I promise!" 

The witch winced at the use of her name, which slipped out of a peasant boy's mouth. She stood up from her throne and stepped out into the dim light, revealing the massive scar on her face. Her left eye had the scar crossing it completely, and her eye was silver. Silver Bright's long, wavy orange hair flowed down to her hips, and her cloak Draped down to the floor. She glared daggers at the child, stepping closer to him.

     The boy shook in fear as the Witch loomed over him. 

    "You dare speak my name in a beggar's tone? You're either a brave child, or an idiotic fool." She pointed to the exit. "Get out. Now." 

    The boy did as she said and ran for the hills, not even daring to look back. He didn't even realize the tears that were falling down his cheeks.

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