Blood and Ash
Kin and Smoke spent perhaps 20 minutes in the Castrum. Two moved quickly where more would have stalled. They found the man. The target. The servant of the Storm Witch. Smoke swiftly ensorcelled him before the pair took him and fled. They returned to the home of the Order. What needed to be done could not be done inside. The others could not see what Smoke would do.
They found a space outside and behind the headquarters. Kin provided a nearly collapsed piece of wood from the fire. The ash would be needed. Smoke sneered a warning to Kin as she crumbled the burning ember with her bare hands. She cut her palms. Her blood mingled with the ash. A paste began to form. Kin retreated into the house.
The soldier's armor had been stripped off, his upper body exposed. Smoke worked a subtle aether under his skin to seize his muscles and paralyze him. She straddled his hips and begain to smear the blood and ash past onto his bare chest. Symbols of power and purity were drawn over his skin. The heart would be stronger this way. Better. Cleaner.
She chanted the old words before pressing her thumbs gently to the mans eyes. She could feel the motion of his eyes beneath the eyelids. He was awake but perfectly immobile. She smiled and leaned close, whispering to him in a kind voice. "Servant. You heart belongs to Storm Witch. But now is mine."
He didn't scream, he couldn't, as her hand pressed into his chest. Hisses of smoke as his flesh and blood sizzled against her skin rose into the air as her fingers sank deeper. He was still as his paniced heart flailed in his chest. Her hand slowly twisted to cleanly carving out a hole in his chest. Her fingers closed around his desperate heart. She did not let it go still before she pulled. A spray of blood and the sound of snapping tendons and the man was gone.
She cradled the heart in her hand, examining it closely before smiling and pressing a soft kiss to the organ. It was good. Pure and clean. Perfect. The ritual would wait no longer. There were preparations to make. The Storm Witch would not escape again.
Kin and Smoke spent perhaps 20 minutes in the Castrum. Two moved quickly where more would have stalled. They found the man. The target. The servant of the Storm Witch. Smoke swiftly ensorcelled him before the pair took him and fled. They returned to the home of the Order. What needed to be done could not be done inside. The others could not see what Smoke would do.
They found a space outside and behind the headquarters. Kin provided a nearly collapsed piece of wood from the fire. The ash would be needed. Smoke sneered a warning to Kin as she crumbled the burning ember with her bare hands. She cut her palms. Her blood mingled with the ash. A paste began to form. Kin retreated into the house.
The soldier's armor had been stripped off, his upper body exposed. Smoke worked a subtle aether under his skin to seize his muscles and paralyze him. She straddled his hips and begain to smear the blood and ash past onto his bare chest. Symbols of power and purity were drawn over his skin. The heart would be stronger this way. Better. Cleaner.
She chanted the old words before pressing her thumbs gently to the mans eyes. She could feel the motion of his eyes beneath the eyelids. He was awake but perfectly immobile. She smiled and leaned close, whispering to him in a kind voice. "Servant. You heart belongs to Storm Witch. But now is mine."
He didn't scream, he couldn't, as her hand pressed into his chest. Hisses of smoke as his flesh and blood sizzled against her skin rose into the air as her fingers sank deeper. He was still as his paniced heart flailed in his chest. Her hand slowly twisted to cleanly carving out a hole in his chest. Her fingers closed around his desperate heart. She did not let it go still before she pulled. A spray of blood and the sound of snapping tendons and the man was gone.
She cradled the heart in her hand, examining it closely before smiling and pressing a soft kiss to the organ. It was good. Pure and clean. Perfect. The ritual would wait no longer. There were preparations to make. The Storm Witch would not escape again.
