Witchcraft (closed for Kaena)

Zedediah Cuthbert had lived fourteen of his twenty six years steeped in hatred and anger. When just a boy, his father had been killed by a witch that lived near his village and his mother had drowned herself in the river shortly after in despair. Since then he has hunted and killed more than three dozen witches and warlocks, including the woman who had cursed and killed his father. Sometimes he seeks them out in the wilderness where they’ve hermitted themselves away, but often he roots them out hiding in plain sight in their towns, and has them burned at the stake.

Tonight, Zedediah rode again in search of a practitioner of the dark arts. The people of the small town had not been eager to tell him where she was, but after a false promise to help her repent, they told the witch hunter how to find her. It seems everyone in the village had loved the girl, but been rightly frightened of her powers and asked her to leave. Zedediah had no intention of having any more mercy on her than any of his other quarries. Those that practiced witchcraft were lovers of the devil and deserved to die.
The rugged man rode a white horse across the barren heath. Crimson light of the setting sun colored him and his steed as they closed on their destination.

Zedediah wore leather armor that hid the faint blue lines tattooed across his chest and arms. The strange circular patterns were angelic symbols given to him by the church to ward off charms and enchantments, they were meant to keep him pure in the face of corrupting forces. The warrior wore an axe on his back though more often his weapons were simply strength, surprise, and rope to bind the witches so he could bring them back for trial. Ragged brown hair that had not been cut in some time, framed a rough face, dark eyes and a grim expression. He was confident he was about to take her, but some of the witches had fought back in strange and dangerous ways.

Zedediah stopped and dropped from his horse when the house came into view. It was larger and much nicer than he had expected. The witch must have charmed the men of the town into building it with her before she fled. Ducking down, the hunter used the dry brush and shadows of twilight as cover and began to creep towards the lair.

Serena had been barely a year old when she was left in the center of the village square of Cheshire, alone and abandoned by her parents. She had been found by two spinster sisters that raised her as one of their own. It wasn't until the age of 18 that her powers began to manifest themselves, starting with the ability to move small items without touching them and leading up to the fire that destroyed her childhood home and turned her village against her. She would always remember the look of quiet determination and sadness on the faces of the women that raised her when they told her of the village council's decision to banish her. It was either that or face them turning her over to the church for execution, as was the custom of any found to have unexplainable powers such as her own. Packing up the meager items she had accumulated through her years, she bid those she loved goodbye and never returned.

The night she left the village, something drew her to the small house in the forest. Travelling by moonlight, skittish at every animal sound around her, it was like she was guided by an unseen hand. The moment she placed a foot on the rickety old porch stairs, she knew she had finally returned home. The house was unkept on the outside, with the appearance of being abandoned for at least 18 years, but, once she opened the door, it was as if an enchantment had stopped time, the interior as pristine and new as the day it was built. On a solid oak table in the middle of the kitchen lay a book and envelope, upon which was written her name.

She learned alot from that letter that night. About who she was, who her parents were and why they had abandoned her so many years before. The book itself told of her family history and within their yellowed pages lay the key to more power than Serena could ever imagine.

For several years Serena lived in peace, teaching herself the craft passed down to her from her family. She was occasionally visited by the two sisters she had come to call mother, but after awhile even they failed to visitor her anymore and she was once again abandoned and alone.

It was the evening of her 25th birthday, a day Serena found chronicled in the family history as a milestone for those like her. Even though her powers had manifested themselves and had grown stronger through the years, it was this evening, with the rise of the moon, that she would gain her full powers. As the sun began to set, she quickly prepared herself, laying out the talismans needed for the ritual. Chanting in an ancient tongue, she brushed her long auburn hair out and twisted it into a braid down her back before donning a sheer robe over her naked, alabaster skin. As the moon rose through her window she drew a single slit across her thumb with the ivory handled knife she had found among other items in the house. A single crimson drop splashed down against the small pile of herbs and animal bones gathered in front of her.

At first it didn't seem like anything had happened, Serena didn't feel any different than she had before. With a disappointed sigh, she reached to begin putting the items away when the air grew eerily silent. MOrbius, her cat and faithful companion, hissed as if at an unseen visitor and scurried under the bed. The silence was suddenly broken by the screeching sound of the cool wind that began to whip its way around Serena's body. Each breath of the cold air seemed to pierce deep into her soul as items on the walls and tables in the house began to fall and crash around her. Serena opened her mouth in a silent scream, trapped within the confines of the wind, her heart beating wildly. No matter what she had read about the ritual, nothing had prepared her for the intense pain and electricity she felt vibrating through her bones. Then as suddenly as it began it was over, the wind fell away, dropping Serena panting to her knees. A quick glance around her found her house once again in pristine condition, as if the wind had never been there.

It was as she was rising unsteadily to her feet that she felt his presence. She knew she was no longer alone and whoever was out there was not friendly.

A sudden wind picked up and Zedediah looked up to the sky. He watched as scattered clouds grew into menacing thunderclouds that twisted centering on the witch’s house. The wind howled and the sky itself seemed to be in a rage when suddenly everything went quiet again. The clouds remained, but whatever had happened was over for the moment. This was a sign that his quarry tonight was an important one. A witch of such power could ruin the lives of hundreds or even thousands of innocent people. The time to strike was now and there would be no taking her alive for proper judgment. It would end for her tonight.

Zedediah pulled the simple axe from its sheath on his back. He had crawled through the scattered brush and pulled himself to a low crouch against the cottage wall, just beneath an open window. He closed his eyes for a moment trying the settle the nerves that never went away just before moments like this. When he opened them again they had regained a steely certainty. Zedediah leapt up and through the window.

The woman suddenly before him had a startling beauty and appeared to be a bit staggered. For a moment he thought she might be a victim instead of his target, but Zedediah banished the thought. Hesitation allowed the devil time to warp a man’s thoughts, and this was exactly the type of ruse a craven witch would use. The witch hunter surged forward, his axe held back ready to strike.

“Die, witch!”

Even though she was aware of his presence outside her home, the last thing she expected was for him to come crashing through her window. She barely had time to react as the glass impoded upon her, followed by a large muscular man with a crazed look in his eyes. She braced herself, fully expecting to pierced through by the flying glass,instead the glass fell harmlessly to the floor, in an almost a perfect half circle in front of her. It was then that she realized that her body was almost humming with power, something she had never felt before.

Before she was even able to collect her senses from the first wave of his attack he was at her again, shouting his intentions harshly. She raised her hands in defense against the cruel blade of his axe, sure she was about to meet her end. Instead, her eyes bled from their normal dark blue to a chilling icy blue, her robe rustling around her again as the wind returned. Her mouth opened as if to scream, but instead she began to chant in an ancient language, the wind screaming wildly around the room, encircling both her and her attacker.

With a flick of her hand the axe was wrenched from his hand and thrown against the wall, burying its blade deep into the heavy wood. Cupping her hand, she sent her power out towards him. Her magic hit him hard pushing him back against the wall and pinning him there as if an unseen hand was at his throat. As soon as the threat was diminished, her eyes faded back to their normal colour, the wind disappeared and she fell once again to her knees, gasping for air. Even though the magic had seemed to have retreated it was still present enough to keep him pressed against the wall and away from her.

Catching her breath, she looked up at him, an angry, yet confused look on her face.

"Who are you that dares to enter my home and threaten my life," she said, her voice starting out weak and ending strong as she raised once again to her feet. "Speak now, or it will be you that will not see the light of day."

He could hardly move his head, but he made the effort to look her in the eyes. Had they changed? He thought he’d seen their color shift almost.

“I am Zedediah Cuthbert. I am a witch hunter and I came to end your life tonight.” His words rang out strong and carried bravery with them, but the pressure still on his throat could be heard in his voice. The axe laid buried impossibly deep in the wall. He’d fought what he’d fought were powerful witches and warlocks before, but her power was overwhelming. She was like nothing he’d ever seen before.

“I’ve sworn to see all of your kind be given what you all deserve. You cannot frighten me, witch.” The words were sure, but there was little he would be able to do with such power focused on him.

It was men like Zedediah that had caused her to flee from her village those many years before. She had heard stories of the horrible trials both women and men, had been put through before they were mercilessly put to death in the name of the church. Some of those that had been killed were guilty of crimes punishable by death, but, others had been guilty of nothing other than being given the gift of magic by their ancestors, innocents in a war built upon ignorance and fear.

She was sure that he had killed many of those like her before, but, she could see in his eyes that he knew she was different. His words were brave, but they were just merely words. He could threaten her all he wanted, but there was little that he could actually do to her in the position he was in.

"You claim to be unafraid of me," she said softly, taking a step towards him. "I believe it is merely death that you are not afraid of, since you know it is a blissful end. I on the other hand are something you should be afraid of. You came here to kill me and yet you have failed and now you are at my mercy. Believe me, I am not in a merciful mood."

Her eyes shifting to icy blue once again, she released her grip on his throat and instead focused her power into bringing him to his knees before her before releasing her hold on him entirely. She knew it wasn't likely he would stay where he was placed, but it was intended to give him a glimpse of her intentions for him.

Over the years he had heard the stories of the grateful innocents he had rescued. He had heard the anguished cries of those whose minds had been warped beyond repair by witchcraft. The witch that had taken his life from him so many years ago had been the only that had ever had the opportunity to wound him. When forced to his knees Zedediah understood some of what this witch meant for him. She meant for him to witness the depravities her kind had inflicted on so many others.

As soon as her power released him, Zedediah shifted onto his feet into a crouch and looked up defiantly at her. To assault her again would only cause her to lash out again. He would need to bide his time. If he could force her to waste her power without hurting him too much perhaps he would have a chance. He’d seen her fall to her knees with its use when he’d first attacked.

“You will see no fear in me,” he told her as he rose to his feet. He was unsure if his words were true, but the witch hunter did not let his voice falter. Then he had a thought.

“What do I call you, witch?”

She couldn't help but laugh at his words. He had seen what she was capable of and that was just the beginning of her newly acquired power. With each second that passed she could feel herself growing stronger, just as the book said would happen. The fact that she hadn't need to call the wind with the last display of power was enough to convince her that she was on her way to becoming the most powerful witch that had set foot in her area since her parents before her.

"My name is really of no importance, but if you must know, I am called Serena," she replied, watching him warily. In his current stance she knew he could strike at her anytime.

"I intend to bring fear to your eyes," she said, letting her power brush lightly over his body, a ever present reminder of who she was. "It may take awhile, but, it will come. I promise you that."

He could feel energy flowing off of her, it felt like a sudden thunderstorm. No witch had ever given him any kind of pause before tonight. Zedediah had never been at a loss for his next action. If he attacked her he could already feel her bristling with power, ready to strike him down. She would never let him retreat now and his honor would not let him if she did. She seemed without weakness, the perfect foe. Beautiful, deadly, and without flaw.

The hunter shook his head suddenly. There was nothing to be admired about a witch. “You don’t intend to kill me then? I doubt you would let your would be killer go. Tell me, Serena, do you intend to talk me to death?”

Goading her like this wasn’t was, but Zedediah wasn’t used to being cornered like this. Not having any way out made him uneasy and he’d rather have something to react against than just wait while she pondered what cruel fate to deliver.

She wasn't sure if he was stupid or just trying to get her angry with him and let her guard down, though she was pretty sure it was the latter. She had to admit, she could feel her anger rising once again at his words. It was taking all her control not to use all her power to bring him begging to his knees before her. Instead she chose to toy with him a little longer, let him think he still had a chance of getting away from her.

"Death would be too quick of a release for you," she replied, her eyes staring intently into his. "You came here to kill me tonight and that is not something easily forgiven."

She used her magic to once again take ahold of him and force him to his knees. She could almost feel his eyes follow her as she walked around him. Grabbing a handful of his long hair, she pulled his head back, the knife she used earlier suddenly in her hand, its blade pressed against his throat.

"Just because I don't intend to kill you," she said, her voice deep and almost sensuous. "Doesn't mean I have to listen to you. Keep it up and your ability to speak will be the first thing I will take away from you."

Letting go of his hair, she withdrew the knife, pushing him away from her. Stepping away from him once again, she took a moment to take in his strong body. She knew she had to rest soon and as she did she would not be able to hold him using magic alone. She needed to find another way to bind him. Glancing around the room, her eyes fell upon a length of chaining hanging along the wall. Though the links seems small, she had a feeling that they were deceptively strong, or at least strong enough to hold a single, mortal man.

Leaving Zedediah on his knees, she retrieved the chain, turning back to him with an almost evil smile.

"I am going to bind you with this chain, Zed," she said, her eyes ever watchful of his reactions. "It is up to you if it is going to be the easy or hard way."

He hated her. Helpless under her power with a blade at his neck made him feel worse than simple death ever could. Helplessness was a feeling Zedediah had run from his entire life and she forced it on him with such ease. It sickened him. When she offered him the opportunity to let her chain him peacefully something inside him snapped.

“You think I’m a dog that has wandered in your home?! Chain me up until I behave?! If I’m to be a dog I will be a feral one!”

With those rage laden words Zedediah lunged at her again. He meant to choke the life out of her if he could, but his hands stopped inches from her throat. Her power hummed around him and he pushed with all his strength, but could get no closer to her. The man simply stared into her. He knew he’d brought something terrible upon himself just now, but all he could feel was hate. He knew he could not succeed against her, but to give in and allow her to do as she wished with him was something he could not do.

Serena hadn't expected him to just peacefully allow her to bind him. He had been fighting her will since the moment he had crashed through her window, why would he do any different now. She had to admit she admired the fight in him, even if it was pointless for him to fight her.

She stood stoic and calm as he lunged at her, confident that her power would protect her. She smiled and shook her head at him as he fought the power, trying to break through it to lay his hands upon her. She knew if her power faltered for even a second she would be dead at his hands.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she centered herself, her mind set on what she was about to do to him. Pushing into him with her magic, she used it to lift him off the ground and force his hands behind him. The chain flew from her hands and wrapped tightly around his wrists, held in place by the binds of magic. With one final push of power, she dropped him to the ground and onto the floor on his back.

Zedediah fought her every inch of the way. It knocked the wind out of him when the witch dropped him to the ground unable to brace himself with his hands. He looked across at her from the floor as he gasped for breath. He felt pathetic as he sputtered for air at her feet. As he recovered he strained against the chain, but the harder he worked against it the tighter its grip became. He groaned as the links bit into his wrists, but it was no use. When he relaxed the chain seemed to as well, almost as if it was alive.

It would do no good to get to his feet again, even if she allowed him to do so, but the man could not lay there in defeat. Shifting his weight, Zedediah worked his way up to his knees and looked up at the woman. She was beautiful and were she someone else he might have courted her, but this was a witch. A consort of satan.

The witch hunter gritted his teeth and spoke slowly and quietly. “You have me chained. What will you do with me now?”

Serena watched with vague interest as he struggled to get to his knees before her. She could almost feel his eyes upon her body as he looked her over and a small smile played upon her lips. As much as he tried to hide it, she was sure she had seem a brief glimmer of desire in his eyes as he took in her beauty. A tingle of lust shivered down her own spine as she looked down at him on his knees before her.

"I can do pretty much anything I wanted to with you now," she replied, brushing her fingers lightly along his shoulder. Standing behind him, she reached over his shoulder and grabbed his shirt, ripping it open to expose his bare chest. His chest was broad and rippling with muscle, but it was not the muscles that drew her attention. It was the strange blue tatoos that travelled down his chest. As she placed her hand close to them, it was almost as if her magic responded to them, as if they were made from the same type of magic. But how could that be. He was a witch hunter, hell bent on killing her. How could there be enchantments placed on his body made of the same magic she herself held. Either someone had lied to him while placing the tatoos on his body, or there was more to learn about her magic than she had already.

"Where did you get these tatoos," she asked, stepping back to wait for his reply.

Zedediah smirked as he felt he’d won his first real victory against her. He could feel the familiar burn of those patterns as they worked. He could almost feel her fingers brushing the tattoos as she reached out to them with her magic.

“Like them? They keep malign influences like yours out of my head. You have my body under your control, but try as you might these tattoos ensure you will never corrupt my mind.”

Having his chest laid bare to her in such a way would have normally made him nervous, but seeing her hesitate for the first time gave him courage. He did not know how to exploit it yet, but he’d found a weakness in the witch.

“I spent some time with an order of cloistered monks. They knew secrets the church will not always admit to being real. They objected to the brutality with which I work, but eventually saw the need for what I do. They branded me with this markings that corrupt influences might never take hold of me. No witch or demon can ever take my mind from me. The symbols are more than skin deep now too, they are a part of me.”

As soon as he spoke, Serena knew that he was not aware of what type of magic he had upon his body. She believed that they had been but there to keep lesser witches from controlling his mind, but, she could tell by the way her magic responded to them, that they were made from the same kind of magic.

"These markings may have protected you up until now," she replied, running a finger along one of the lines. "But, the monks who placed these on your body did not tell you the whole truth about them. They are made from the same magic I possess. Perhaps these men were not really monks, but powerful warlocks that as simply hiding in the shadows of the church to protect themselves. Or most likely, despite your beliefs, not all magic is born of the devil."

Taking her knife she quickly cut away his shirt, exposing the tatoos on his arms as well. She vaguely remembered reading something in the book about men marked with these tatoos. It was something she would look into later.

"I have no intention of trying to take your mind from you," she finally said, once again stepping back to admire his muscled form. "I have other uses for you, which I know you will have no protection against. Get up on your feet. Don't both resisting, we both know I can force you to your feet."

Zedediah chuckled. More deception. More lies.

“Men of the faith truer than I. If their arts resemble your own it must only be to combat them and nothing more.”

The light burn of the lines receded telling the witch hunter she had given up on them, focusing her power elsewhere. He could more than stand the discomfort, but he was still grateful to have it gone. He suspected Serena would commit far worse tonight, but there was no reason to compound his troubles.

With those same thoughts in mind the man stood quietly. She had his hands bound and had him frankly at her whims. It was not a proud moment for him, but he stood anyway, knowing there would be more important fights to be had. He had nothing more to say to the witch for the moment and only gave her a defiant stare

Serena didn't bother to reply to his comment until she researched further about the markings. There was no use in getting in a verbal battle with him over something she didn't know that much about.

She watched as he rose to his feet. She could tell by the look on his face that it was something he didn't want to do, but, it appeared that he had decided to chose his battles and this was not going to be one of them. Her eyes met his as he stared at her defiantly, causing a slight smile to play on her lips. She knew she would have a long way to go to strip him of his defiance and frankly she was amused by the thought of doing so.

Keeping her eyes locked with his, she placed her hands on the belt of his pants and began to undo it. She knew magically she had the upper hand on him, but mentally he was still able to resist her. The tatoos may keep her from taking his mind, but, it wouldn't keep her from breaking him a little. Undoing his pants she pulled them down to his knees, leaving him naked below the waist.

"You can remove them the rest of the way," she ordered, her eyes never leaving his. "You will have to earn the right to wear clothing again. I may not be able to break you mentally by magic, but there are other ways to break a man."

His hands were bound so he couldn’t strike her, but it was utterly tempting to headbutt her or whatever he could manage. Zedediah however, resisted. He was only glad her beauty hadn’t gotten the better of his body … yet. If she had found him already willing the witch would have become incorrigible.

“You can remove them the rest of the way. You will have to earn the right to wear clothing again. I may not be able to break you mentally by magic, but there are other ways to break a man.”

The witch hunter gritted his teeth and looked away. He would earn nothing from this bitch, he would take what he deserved. He kicked his pants away from him and would not look at her.

“You are the foulest of wenches, Serena,” he muttered quietly.

Even without his words, Serena knew that he despised her. She could almost feel the hate radiating off his body as he spoke. As he looked away from her, she took the moment to take a good look at his body. She had to admit that she was pleased with what she saw. It had been many years since she had been with a man and the sight of him standing naked before her was stirring things deep inside her.

"Look at me when you talk to me," she said, placing her hand under his chin and bringing his head back to face her. "And if I were you I would weigh my words carefully. You are not exactly in the position to continue insulting me."

Brushing her fingers lightly along his skin, she walked around him slowly, admiring him from all sides. Her first thoughts when she captured him was to torture him to break him and making him beg her to kill him, but, now she had other ideas in mind for him.

Running her nails lightly down his bare back and over his ass, she waited to see how he would react. She was sure he would have more insults to throw at her before the night was through and most likely would attempt to resist her, but, in the end she would get what she wanted from him.

It had been a long time since he’d laid with a woman. Zedediah’s life had been consumed by his quest and it had left little time for anything else. He had few friends spread far across the countryside and love or even simple lust were things he had not allowed himself. He had been alone for a long time and that made it hard to deny the effect the light touch of her nails on his bare flesh was having. Still, he could not allow her to see it.

The witch hunter stayed silent under her touch and did not move. He closed his eyes focusing on his hate for her. Serena and her kind had killed many innocent helpless people. They warped and twisted all they touched. She was evil.

These thoughts helped to banish the thoughts of her that had begun to creep him. These thoughts helped him ignore that tempting touch.

She was a little suprised that her touch had not had as quick of an effect on him as she thought it would, but, she didn't allow that to stop her. Instead she continued to run her fingers lightly along his skin, moving to face him as she ran her hand along his bare chest and down his taught stomach.

"You have been able to resist me so far," she said, once again looking into his eyes. "But, your resistance will only last so long. You will be begging me one way or another before this night is through, I can guarantee you that."

She could feel a tightening in her loins as she allowed her eyes to travel to between his legs. Her mind filled with carnal thoughts of the two of them together, but she quickly pushed the thoughts from her mind. She wasn't about to let him see her desire for him, he might take it as a sign of weakness.

Dropping her robe to the floor, she stood before him naked. Pulling the ribbon out of her hair, she shook it loose, letting it fall down over her shoulders. Stepping in close to him, she pressed her body against his, her hand trailing along his inner thigh.

"Try to resist me now," she whispered in his ear.

Evil … a temptress … He would succeed against her and give her everything she deserved.

Zedediah took in the woman’s flawless body and hungered. Deny it as he might he wanted her. He wanted the heat of her flesh that was pressed against him. He wanted to make her his, just as she was trying to do to him. He stifled a groan as her hand drew closer to his stiffening cock.

No. Stay focused.

The naked man shifted away from her and as he did he noticed something. His bonds were looser than they had been at first. Perhaps he was not the only one besieged by temptation. As soon as he tried to pull loose from the chain it tightened down, but it definitely been looser. Zedediah knew if he could keep in control he would soon have his chance.

She could feel the heat radiating off his body as she pressed against him, his body hard in comparison to her luscious curves. His heart beat wildly beneath her hand on his chest. As much as he seemed in control, she had a feeling she was starting to have an affect on him.

Her suspicions were confirmed as he moved away from her. A quick glance down his body drew an amused grin to her lips. Even if the rest of his body hid his arousal, his stiffening cock gave him away.

"I knew you couldn't resist me," she taunted, brushing her fingers lightly along the length of his cock. As she touched him, she felt a sudden shift in her power. In her quest to throw him off guard, she had almost forgotten that she was using her magic to keep him restrained. Taking a deep breath, she refocused herself and her magic, speaking an ancient spell that would keep the chains in place, even if she allowed herself to come distracted, though she couldn't be sure that he wouldn't be able to wiggle out of them, if she totally lost focus.

Encircling his cock with her hand, she slowly ran her hand along it, raising her head to meet his eyes.

Zedediah let himself shudder under her touch. She had to believe that he had given in to her temptations if he was going to tempt her into complacency. It was all just to escape he rationalized.

Slowly he looked her in the eyes for the first time since she’d undone his pants. He no longer held that look of utter contempt. God forgive him, but he wanted her, and that made it easy to play the part. His words came slow and measured. He wasn’t afraid, but his pride made them hard to say.

“Is this all you planned, Serena? Or would you … use me … for your own pleasure?”

Was some twisted part of him enjoying this? The physical he understood, could not help, but there seemed to be something more. No. This was just a ploy. He would beat her to death with his fist given the chance. Just a ploy.