Rise of the Black Witch

[Chesa]

The old hag she was known as. An ironic title, for she was a woman of a mere 24. She had it all, money, wealth, beauty, and then a single man stole that from her. She used to wear gowns of the finest silk and jewelry made of the purest stone. She went to fanciest parties and drank wine that couldn't be compared to. Now she was reduced to drinking stale meed from wooden cups in the back of a circus tent, watching a filthy brat run around her feet. One man had replaced the beautiful woman with a withered old hag.

She groaned to herself, glancing at her reflection in the murky brown liquid in her cup. Once beautiful brunette locks were replaced by grungy brown knots. The fine porcelain skin couldn't be seen under the layer of grim that had accumulated. Her eyes used to sparkle like stars, and now they were nothing more then beckons to the empty life of the woman.

“Mama! Look what I found!” A small girl cooed, running up to her. She pulled on the edge of her skirts. The Hag looked down at the little girl in disgust. Black hair that couldn't be ruined by dirt, bright eyes that sparkled like rubies, and beautiful olive skin. A diamond hiding under layers of coal dust. A jewel, just like the man who brought her into existence.

“Mama!” She whined, tugging harder at the cloth, the cotton skirts ripping just a tiny bit more then they already had. “Mama why wont you look at me?” She asked, continuing to yank on her skirts. That child just wouldn't go away! Why couldn't she make her go away!

The Hag couldn't stand it any longer. She kicked the child and rose to her feet. The girl cried and tumbled backwards, the little piece of glass she was holding spinning away from her. “Go away!” She snapped, strutting quickly across the small room that had been created for them in the massive tent. She turned her back to the little girl, pouring more meed into her cup.

“Mama...” The little girl whimpered, standing up again. “Just...just get out...” She responded, her voice a bit softer, but not soft enough for it to matter. Tears welled up in the child's eyes as she turned and ran out of the tent. A long sigh escaped the Old Hag as she plopped into the chair that sat near the cot that served as the bed for both her and the rat.

Her eyes grazed a book on the ground. With a nostalgic paused she grabbed the book, curling her fingers around it. A heavy leather book, worn with time. Dust had settled firmly on it's covered and the binding was frail, slowly winding out in soft curls“The Art of Black Magic...” She muttered. Black magic had never been favored, but the Old Hag had been able to make fantastical shows out of it. She was always the life of the parties, preforming mind boggling tricks to a handle of wealthy guests. It had always fared her well. Now she was reduced to preforming petty little slide of hand stunts and a second hand traveling circus.

“Oh how the beautiful have fallen,” She muttered under her breath, letting the book drop to the ground. Maybe the town would prove a little relief. She grabbed a snaggle tooth comb off the little stand next to her, pulling it through the knots of her hair, though it did nothing but tangle it more. As satisfied with her appearance as she was going to get.

The Old Had Left the set up of the little circus, walking right past the freaks practicing their little acts. It was down time, the opening later that week, though it wasn't as if it was anything special. The openings were the same as the closings as were the same as ever night they preformed. The same, mundane, stupid little show.

As she strolled through the dank, dirty streets her mind drifted to fantasy. Of course a lady such as herself didn't walk among peasants and chickens. She allowed her mind to let the scenery around her slowly shift, the filthy brick buildings rose high as great towers of sparkling ivory. Stones pushed through the dirt beneath her feet, all the animals taking to the alley's and utterly vanished. The little street rats that were chasing pig skin balls amongst the people grew into fine lady's and Lords, out for an evening stroll. This was the world she longed for, the world from where she had come.

The Hag was no more, now replaced by the lovely young woman she once was. She let herself indulge in such a Dream, since she new it would always be out of her reach now, but oh what she would do to return to living in the lap of luxury.

A bit of commotion ripped through her world, thrusting her back into reality. She looked ahead to see two men at arms and a page at the wooden pillar in the center of town which held any and all announcements. As the Old Hag got a better look of the two she noticed that they were not just men at arms of the local nobility, but Guardsmen of the Queen. There hadn't been a country wide decree in quite some time. A bit of curiosity sparked in her, and she walked up behind messengers as they left.

The message tacked the the board was definitely of royalty. The paper was stiff but excellently white. A great calligrapher had beautifully written out the message in language that some of the commoners may not have been able to understand. The royal seal in gold leaf had been stamped at the bottom, though it was none of these things that caused the Old Hag to look, it was the words 'Witch Collectors'. The words snatched her attention like a young pick pocket, making her re-read the entire Message

As Ordered by the Queen of Alron

All persons of Witch descent or practicing the arts of witch craft, under the age of eighteen years, are hence forth ordered to enroll in the Springfield Institute for the Magically Gifted so that their talents may be used in service of the crown. Compensation shall be given to each guardian of said Witch in the amount of two-hundred gold coins. Any person known to ignore the order will be subjected to forced remove by Witch Collectors and shall receive no compensation.


A small smiled spread across her lips as she thought about it. Two hundred gold coins! She thought excitedly. That was enough to get out of that shitty little circus, and she could get rid of the brat! With that money and the child gone she could pull herself back into the world she so rightfully belonged. She could start over! All she needed to do was turn her daughter over to a Witch Collector. The Hags dreams were pulled from the dust with that little order. She could make everything right. She wasted no time standing there, she needed to get back and start deciding how to spend her money.

[Chesa]

After a week of apprehensively day dreaming about the many ways she was going to spend her reward money. The Old Hag had stopped thinking of her little girl as a daughter and started to see her as a possession to be sold. The little ruby eyed 11 year old, Tlean, had spent much of her time as of recent away from her mother. “Keep outta that tent child, ya' hear?” The Ring master told her. She had listened, because that man had always been more family to her then her own mother had. He was a tall, old, dark skinned gypsy man. He had eyes that sparkled like gold coins. A wide nose, high cheek bones and defined lips marked him as a hard fellow, and even at a grandfathers age his body was strong from the years he had spent laboring. Though, unfortunately, he had no grandchildren to speak of. He had lost his wife and two young sons in a fire that he only mentioned ever so often. Now the little circus was his family.

Tlean loved being around the old man. When she was younger she the brightly colored tunics and jackets he had warn had drawn her to him like a fly to honey. As she drew his personality began to attract her more. He obviously was never of high class, as her mother insisted on pointing out, but despite that there was a certain grace about him. It wasn't as refined as a nobles, but he emanated his own class that demanded respect, while still giving off a gentle air. Tlean never could put her finger on just what gave him the strange affect. It was part of the reason she continued to hang around.

It was one of those days where she insisted on playing tag along that she trotted behind him with a little book tucked under her arm as he inspected his circus. Her little bare feet padded in the dirt as she trailed after him. “Atalli?” She asked, having to run to keep up with the man's brisk stride. The Ring Master tilted his head back as he stopped to watch an acrobat stretch. “Yes Child?” he asked, glancing at her. She fiddled with the book she had with the book she had with her, one that she had acquired from an upper city store by questionable means. “do you know magic?” She asked curiously, her eyes locked on him. Atalli cocked a bushy brow, looking over her. “What in the wide world made you think I did?” He asked.

Tlean pulled the book out and started leafing through the pages. Again Atalli eyed her. “That's not one of your mothers books,” He commented in a gruff voice. “I...borrowed it...but that doesn't matter, look!” She exclaimed, holding the book up to him. “It says that gypsy's are really good with magic,” She stated. Atalli swiftly plucked the book from her hands, shutting it. “It's still magic that needs to be taught, now listen here Child. The crown's going around, pickin' up magical children, no ifs ands or buts. Now's not the time to go 'round flauntin' your magic touch. I don't want you carryin' 'round this book,” He commanded, waving the piece of literature before her. Tlean tilted her head down, as children do, as he chastised her.

The Ring Master sighed, calming himself in the realisation that he was upsetting the young girl for reasons she did not full comprehend. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and lowered the book down for her again. “Now, shoo. Go hide that thing ,” He said, sending her away and continuing to observe his performers.

Tlean let out a small sigh as she exited the main tent. The dust outside kicked up as she walked. She tucked the book into it's sage place under her arm again. A bit of surprise had caught her wen Atalli hadn't told her to return the book. It was a nice one, with a dark brown leather cover, not in the least bit bleached. The binging was a beautiful gold thread that glinted in the sun light. The words “The History and Finer Practices of Black Magic” were printed across the cover. The interior was hand written in fabulous calligraphy, with hand drawn pictures. It wasn't a print, but a real book. There would've been no way she could have afford such an item. It had been worth at least fifty gold.

Tlean though, being the young witch she was, yearned to learn more about the art she had been born to master. Atalli had told her to hide the book, but what good was a book if one couldn't become absorbed in the things a brilliant mind had taken the time to write down. She looked around the camp sight, seeing the various participants of the circus buzzing around as they prepared for the opening night. She chewed on her bottom lip as she mulled over the thoughts of disobeying Atalli. If she hid herself and the book then technically she wouldn't be doing anything wrong.

A grin spread across her lips as she thought up her devilish scheme. She broke into a trot across the camp, heading towards a large lone tree that stood towards the tent that the fire breather stayed in. She climbed into the tree, situating herself amongst the branches, the foliage concealing her. Tlean had no problem 'adventuring' around the various campsites the circus had occupied. At 11 years old she should've been wearing skirts and corsets like a normal girl, but her mother was too cheap to buy her such things, so she would still run around bare foot, in the tunic and britches of a child, though at her age she looked like a little boy and not a little girl. The only thing that deferred her little boy status was the the long flowing black hair of hers, though most of the time she kept it pulled back and out of her face.

Safely concealed by the trees she pulled out the book again and flipped through the pages until she found one that had the corner folded down, marking her spot. She started reading over the section. Most of it she didn't understand. She hardly understood black magic. It was in her blood yet she didn't know the simplest of tricks. She could mimic some of the things her mother did, use her shadow to make items look like they were floating and if she was lucky she could light a candle with a dark flame, but these tricks were nothing. If only her mother would let her see that basic magic book she had hanging around. She knew it was there, though she never could get her hands on it for more then a few seconds.

A huff escaped her as she rested the book in her lap, reading over advanced song spells. It didn't take long though for her attention to drift away from the book. She glanced downward. “...Huuuh?” She cooed, resting the book against the tree as she climbed forward on the branch to peer down. She pushed through the leaves, catching sight of the man who was starting into camp.

He was a normal looking man, wealthy too. He wore a shirt with buttons and pants with a belt. He looked about her mothers age, maybe a little older. He looked nice enough, nothing really eye catching about his face or his build. What did draw the attention of the child was the hat he wore. It was a funny thing, looked like something the clowns would wear. It was a wide brimmed hat with a long cone shaped top that flopped over a bit in its own weight. “What a funny hat...” She muttered, leaning forward to get a better look.