Tilla is a witch, who enjoys the simplicity and seclusion that comes with life in a rural village. Little known about her background prior to her appearance in a small country province of Antheon, Tilla is all too content to pass her days caring for the minor needs and ailments of its occupants. Until, one day her peaceful life is stolen from her by the outbreak of war with the neighboring kingdom, Vinhalla. The fighting instigated by a powerful and callous sorceress from the rival kingdom, Tilla is left with little choice but to flee or risk being embroiled in a mystical war of epic proportions. Her life uprooted and destiny uncertain, Tilla enlists the aid of the gruff and handsome werewolf, Luther Bane. The two, discovering trust and even a spark of passion in one another as they struggle to evade the Hunters, monsters, and the likes of kin who seek to harm them. Will their alliance be enough to elude the secrets of their pasts? Or will they find themselves ensnared in a conflict much greater than themselves?
View MoreThe thick cloak of darkness that the night drew around them, lingering as the sun rose over the jagged peaks and tranquil pastures of the Antheon’s southern borders. Luther neither observed the first light of dawn nor felt its warmth upon his skin as he sat deep within the craggy slopes of the mountains. Their proud figures concealing the Lycan and the frustratingly beguiling creature that he had come to cherish within their secret crevices.Casting his gaze upon the single shaft of light that penetrated the gloom, which persisted to mar the bottom of the cavern. Luther monitored the sunbeam for a while, before it too abandoned them. Its soft light, retreating behind the thick cover of heavy clouds. Their ominous dark presences hung over the couple who hid from the unwanted attention for curious eyes. Lamenting the departure of the promising strand of light from the bottom of the gorge for a moment, Luther did not wait long before once again considering the heavenly entity that was sle
Entering deep into a fissure found within the craggy terrain. There was a desolate solitude, which fell over the stony facades of the mountains as darkness descended on the land. Unfaltering under the heavy gaze of their silent review, Tilla and Luther carried the smell of smoke with them in the fibers of their hair and clothes. The scent, an unwelcome reminder of the village and the witch that they had encountered there as they drifted further into the horizon of the remote landscape. The vague twinkle of stars faded away from Tilla’s view as they fled down into the hidden crevices between the mountains. The absence of the flickering orbs’s tranquil light, allowing for a more profound darkness to besiege them. The murkiness of night was to be replaced by a more terrifying bleakness within Tilla’s dreams.Awakening within the realm of a nightmarish memory, Tilla's eyes were immediately confronted by the darkness of a desolate abyss. Surrounded by the cold stones that lined the walls o
Flames rising from under the bath, their orange tendrils licked at the basin hungrily. Their flickering light seeming to entrance the girl whose ire had birthed them, Tanneth stood motionless in the tub. Only the whites of the woman’s eyes were visible now as the fire engulfed her naked body entirely. There was nothing to prevent the flames' hot limbs from ravenously consuming the wooden tub or their surroundings. The fire, leaping onto the walls next. Tilla grabbed a towel from the little stool beside the bath before it too became fodder to the flames’ relentless wrath. Wrapping the meager covering around her bare skin as she watched the fire climb higher in the hut, Tilla groped for the handle of the door in the smoldering structure. Her eyes stinging and lungs filling with smoke, Tilla coughed profusely as her fingers finally grasped upon the thick rope cord that acted as a handle to the door. Throwing the rickety barrier open behind her, Tilla stumbled out into the open. Carried
Not a shred of life remaining in the campsite besides the Lycan and the Witch. They were to depart from the tattered tents and the scattered ashes of the communal fires that had been used to warm the refugees of the oncoming war whilst they cooked their meals later that day. Their progress neither fettered nor reinvigorated by the short time they had spent in the camp. The pair’s encounters there were merely to provide them with more hours of reflection during the arduous trek to come.Traversing sinuous rivers and golden fields of wheat and barley in their effort to reduce their run-ins with civilization. Tilla and Luther were to endure all of the hardships of the wilderness and of nature’s fickle temperament in the days to follow. Encountering torrential rains and hours the pressures of scorching heat under the confinement of their coverings with little opportunities for rest found in the tenuous sleep that night granted to them. They suffered exhaustion, dehydration, and minor woun
Their decision made, Luther and Tilla trudged towards the throng of approaching looters. Discerning that the element of surprise had been lost, there was no digression about the couple’s movements in the darkened forest. Twigs and leaves crunching underfoot to announce their advance, these vague rustlings were soon drowned out by the thundering rhythm of hooves and the thud of heavy boots that charged towards the camp.The sound of the invaders’ progress punctuated by Luther’s paws as they beat out a steady canter upon the ground. The chaotic percussion resonated within Tilla. Found to be both simultaneously unsettling and exhilarating, the cacophony of noise hummed a familiar war chant deep in her chest. Feeling that this was not the first time for this curious surge of dread and anticipation to pound against her chest, Tilla was urged forward by the fever it excited within her. Exasperated that the very thing she had been trying so desperately to expunge from her mind was not to be
The sky tinged in an aggressive hue of red that reflected upon the barren plains, Tilla sighed as she watched the crimson sun sink deeper into land. The exhalation, wafting from her parched lips in clouds of warm air that drifted towards the heavens. It mingled amidst the other pale wisps of vapor overhead, whilst she remained. Trapped in a hellish landscape that had been marred by the scars of battle and strewn with the bodies of fallen men. Tilla felt a numbness towards their fate and to the bitter chill of the air that nipped at her nose as their blood soaked into the veins of dry earth at her feet. The atmosphere, thick with the overwhelming stench of death, there was no breeze to stir the corpses from their tortured slumber as Tilla stood solemnly amongst them. Her head bent in reflection of her actions, Tilla paid her quiet respects to the number of souls that laid before her. Their faces twisted into pained grimaces and stained with their own blood, she at least held her foes
The fire, spewing a flurry of golden embers as it consumed another mossy log that had been thrust into its seductive flames. There was a popping and hissing that burst forth that accompanied the conversation of the people who had been drawn to surround its heat. Their faces illuminated by the flames that sprung up from the pit, they cast grim shadows upon the wearied complexions of the strangers as they spoke.Their tales full of the tragedy and anguish, which had led them to inhabit this remote part of the woods, Tilla listened stoically from where she sat. Sequestered to the less occupied perimeter of the communal fire, where only a vague fragment of its light could reach her. Stories of the atrocities the Red Witch and her soldiers had committed, were carried towards her on an amicable breeze. Whilst some unpleasant memories of the bloodshed and wreckage they had witnessed were recounted tearfully; there were others who expressed a hot anger towards the world’s injustice and the vi
Tilla’s outburst eliciting a crumpling of dead foliage and the frantic scurrying of four pairs of tiny feet. The startled spies scrambled over one another as they fled from their hiding place. Flying in different directions from the hollow trunk of a fallen tree. They did not pause to look back, for fear that they should be caught by the fiery red headed woman they had been surveying curiously before.However, in doing so, the smallest and less agile of the bunch was left behind. Too occupied in his haste to see adequately his surroundings, the child had fallen victim to the upturned root of a large oak. Subdued by the rogue appendage, the boy tumbled spectacularly head over heels onto the ground. His hair left askew and nose covered in dirt, the child took hold of his wrist. Cradling it to his chest, he began to cry pitifully as he sat alone on the forest floor. The child’s face distorted by pain and the fresh anguish of his friends’ abandonment, it evoked a sympathy within Till
Oblivious towards their solemn mood, the birds continued to chirp happily in the treetops. Their song, carried to them by a pleasant breeze, the vibrant winged beasts hopped carelessly from the limbs of the surrounding trees. Their merriment, the sole noise that seemed to penetrate the pair’s thoughts as they progressed further from Mater Luna territory. There was no conversation between them, only unanswered questions.The world around them, completely impartial to the experiences of their tumultuous journey thus far and the agitation of the pair’s emotions, Tilla almost felt resentful towards it as they continued to walk.The thick carpet of moss and leaves upon the forest floor, giving way underfoot in a manner that made Tilla doubt even her steps. She forced herself to trudge forward in the direction that the sun and the stars dictated as she contemplated the consistent mess of upheavals that seemed to rule their lives. The uncertainty recent events had instilled in her in regard
Surrounded by darkness, Tilla shivered as the wind howled relentlessly over the moors. Her dress torn, it proved insufficient in warding off the persistent drizzle that saturated the night. The dampened red locks of Tilla’s disheveled hair clinging to her face and neck, she wiped them away from her eyes as she attempted to take in her surroundings. Brambles and thistles scraping against the exposed skin on her legs and arms, she clambered shakily to a standing position. Not one inch of her body appeared to have been spared from a cut or a bruise of some description, these seemed old pains that were numbed mildly by the unforgiving chill that permeated the air. Searching the land for any semblance of familiarity, Tilla could discern amongst the dark and desolate hills of the moorlands that she recognized, much less that suggested anything of home. ‘Home? Where was home?’ She thought. The answer, eluding her, Tilla felt her heart rate begin to quicken. Finding that her memories remain...
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