A violent fire rages around me. The smoke forms a dense black cloud that covers most of the sky. It hides the summer sun and is the only reason my team and I have any chance of success.
No one would be crazy enough to go into the blasting hell we’re approaching without the benefit of such cover.
I look over my shoulder and check on my men. This mission is of the highest priority. We are Knights of the Vorcellian Order. We’ve dedicated our lives to eliminating the stain of witchcraft and sorcery from the human race.
All of us have taken our vows, forsaking the basal pleasures of this life for the sake of a higher calling.
Our Order has been around since the start of the millennium. We’ve always operated in the shadows, undermining magic wherever it appears. Witches and sorcerers—they are our targets. They are our prey.
We cannot allow the dark, unnatural forces to spread throughout the world.
Now, my team and I stand on the verge of destroying one of the most powerful family of witches in existence:
The Soren Clan.
The past two decades have been a spectacular success. We’ve managed to burn, kill, or otherwise eliminate all the weaker families. Only five remain that we know of.
Of course, there is always the possibility that more exist. If they do, my Order will find them, uncover them, and watch them burn.
This has been my whole life’s purpose. I was born into the Order and quickly rose through the ranks. As a teen, I was made First Officer. Older men scoffed at my appointment, but I quickly proved their doubts wrong. And the ones who continued to snicker behind my back?
Well, those were the only who found their heads on pikes when I became Lord Commander a short five years later.
Eighteen other Knights are here with me. They are my most trusted men. When I caught wind of the ceremony the Soren witches were planning from an inside source, I knew this was the most opportune time to strike.
Of course, this mission carries a high risk of failure. All our missions do, but taking calculated risks is all part of the game.
Sometimes you have to go by nothing more than the feeling in your gut. And my gut told me to attack.
We continue scaling the rocky hill. Four days ago, we set the fires to trap the witches in the midst of their ceremony.
All supernatural creatures fear fire. It is the one element they cannot control, because it is the one element governed by God.
I mouth a brief prayer and make the symbol of the cross around my chest. My faith in the Lord is unwavering. It is what allows me to face such monstrosities of nature without fear.
But something went wrong.
The fires we set have not yet been put out. They haven’t lessened. If anything, in the past few days they’ve grown stronger.
Stopping the blaze should have been the Soren clan’s first priority. And yet they’ve allowed it to rage on and on…
We surveyed the land before striking the blaze. There wasn’t enough tinder there to fuel the fires for four long days.
That means something else is feeding the flames. Something, I suspect, that comes from the inside.
Something that comes from the witches themselves.
One of my men coughs. Damien. I shoot him a sharp look. The slightest sound could give us away when we’re this close. He knows better than to risk our position like that.
He gestures in apology, steels himself, and continues the climb. I tense, waiting for the slightest sound that might hint that we’ve been compromised.
None comes. I breathe a sigh of relief and continue on.
I see the crest before me. Once we reach that peak, we’ll have a perfect vantage of the little makeshift village the witches selected for their ceremony.
I tighten my grip on my sword. I haven’t been parted from the weapon since it was bestowed upon me when I turned ten. The emeralds in the hilt protect me from the worst of the witch’s magic.
But the real strength comes from the blade… and the arm that wields it.
Dozens of witches and their vile offspring have met their end on the razor-sharp edge of my sword. Every great weapon has a name, and I named mine Witchbane after my first kill.
We reach the top. I signal for my men to lie low. I brought them here, so I have to take the lead. I raise my head over the edge… and curse at what I see.
Eight little huts stand in a circle in the village below. They are untouched by the flames. A faint blue orb surrounds the entirety of the village like a protective shield.
Along the sides, the fire beats against that shield. But it does not penetrate. Somehow, the flames are repelled.
I sink back out of sight. My mind races. Have the witches found a spell against fire? I would have never—ever—fathomed such a thing possible.
“Smithson,” one of my men growls. “What is it? Tell us.”
I glance at my most loyal men. All of them knew a time would come when they would give their lives for the Order. I’d been hoping to delay the day as long as possible… but a premonition tells me that the day has finally arrived.