by
Marie Noire
Prologue One
She was a
witch... there was little doubt about that now. An evil being with frightening powers beyond all mortal
understanding and control over nature and time; this one had to be one of the most
temperamental. Lord Rayven of Olde Alme
was too stupefied by the old woman's transformation and ultimate expression of
hatred to even summon his guards... not that they would do any good against
this sort of evil.
"Foolish mortal!" she
hissed through hideously greenish-brown teeth.
"How dare you think that you hold any sway over me?! I do not respond to the petty whims of the
nobility!"
"I do but serve my
under-lords!" Rayven yelled above the howling winds that accompanied the
witch's tirade. "You have caused
much trouble in these lands, Bylana! I
merely keep the peace!"
"You think that I'll suffer any
consequences from the likes of you?!" she screeched angrily.
"Perhaps not from I... but
there shall come a time when you will suffer for your crimes! You will answer to God... from Hell!"
She cackled a raspy and
heart-stopping sound when paired with the furious howling winds. "You should be far more concerned about
yourself, Rayven! For you are headed
for a Hell of your own!"
Suddenly, pain was all Rayven knew;
a deep wrenching agony that began in his heart and quickly spread to all of his
extremities with an alarming intensity.
He staggered to his knees, valiantly attempting to will away this
anguish, dimly aware of the witch's harshly screeched words.
"I condemn thee to the life of
a freak; neither man not animal, neither mortal nor immortal. Isolation will be thy only life and the only
way to escape may as well be impossible."
His skin was on fire as millions of
pinpricks ignited; hair cutting through the surface of his skin. His bones crunched, broke, and thickened
until they took on a new shape. His
canine teeth lengthened and sharpened into fangs, his nails grew into knifelike
claws... he was being transformed into some kind of animal!
Screams echoed from all over his
estate as Rayven's multitude of servants met similar fates. The witch smiled with sinister victory as at
last the process completed its final stages, leaving Rayven lying on the floor,
gasping for air.
"Charming, milord..." she
drawled sarcastically.
The pain having vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, Rayven immediately stood up to stand against her and inadvertently caught sight of himself in a large mirror behind her. He froze, rooted to the spot. Half man, half beast; he was covered in a thick pelt of shaggy, brown fur and resembled something like a lion with his mane of long, dark hair. But lions didn't have the horns of a mountain goat sprouting out of their heads, or the large tufted ears of a lynx. Only his emerald green eyes remained human, for even his body had changed; he was awesome in size, like the great bears of the northern territories, thick in chest and shoulder which the muscle mass to match.
"Change me back!" he
screamed, startled by the deafening roar that issued from his throat.
"That is not within my power...
only one thing can break my spell." she smiled with evil victory, knowing
that the cure was nearing impossible.
"A woman must willingly love you and give you a son."
"You're lying!" Rayven
roared again, lunging for the witch with his newfound claws bared, ready to
kill. She easily avoided him by
disappearing from her previous spot and reappearing behind him, looking out the
windows that made up one entire wall of the chamber.
"Those roses in the
garden..." she continued, not unduly concerned with Rayven's violence.
"They are your time limit; a black rose is a hundred years... a red rose
is ten... a white rose is one... a pink rose is one month... and a yellow rose
is a day. As they all die, their time
is lost... and believe me, they will die; as will you if the spell remains
unbroken."
"Spawn of Satan!" Rayven
thundered. "Release me!"
"Only Beauty can do that,
milord..."