The Unmarked Sorceress

The woods seemed hungry. The trees muttered and moaned despite no wind in the air as Grace peeked out of the cluttered carriage. Shadows swirled around them, covering them in a dense fog that trailed and swirled throughout the air, gathering together like cords and seeping in through the cracks of the wooden carriage doors. The fog fluttered and whirled as it danced from the elder woman's unlit pipe, sitting on the velveteen bench. Grace watched with fascination. After all, just this morning, magic, to her knowledge, had only ever been a parlor trick or sleight of hand. Settling back into her side of the carriage, she crossed her ankles and laced her fingers together. Though her clothes were much too large, tattered, and stained, she still tried to maintain a sense of dignity and poise. She looked out the window once more and reminisced upon the last 24 hours of her life. This morning had started out like any other. Boring and painful. As the first rays of dawn pierced through the tattered curtains, Grace stirred from uneasy slumber on her lumpy makeshift bed, nestled within the confines of a dilapidated apartment in the heart of Ember City's desolate slums. Every fiber of her being ached, mirroring the decayed state of her surroundings. The leaky ceiling above added an unwelcome symphony to her sleepless night, a haunting reminder of the harsh reality she faced daily. She dressed herself, tossed her hair up in a sloppy bun, and did her best to make herself look presentable, as she always did. You see, Grace worked at a popular but small diner on the outskirts of the city slums. The tips were low, as most of her customers were cheap criminals with little to no manners. Meaning, her appearance was everything. Dress well, wear makeup, do your hair, and flirt a little? Perhaps that would get you some money, but it could also get you kidnapped. Dress too frumpy, however, and people think nobody is looking for you, and you once again, end up kidnapped. So, this left one option. You must look presentable, but also undesirable. Grace was particularly skilled at mastering this balance. It helped that she was naturally an average girl. Slim but not skinny, with a small protruding stomach, round blue eyes, and a button nose that was perhaps a bit big on her face. Her plump lips thinned when she smiled, showing too many teeth, and her curly brown hair, though cut short to her jaw, was often left unkempt. Her second-hand clothes typically didn't fit her well, but she found comfort in their loose fit. Most of her garments, aside from her uniform, swallowed her whole. Finally dressed in her attire, she found her way to the diner and began working the grueling night shift. Tonight was especially tragic considering the other person who was supposed to help her called out, leaving all the work to her. Typical. Grace rushed and fumbled about the diner, running food, drinks, and orders. Her hair slowly loosened from its hold and fell frantically around her face. It wasn't until about an hour before closing that it was finally quiet, with only a few tables left to cash out. Considering she was alone, the tips were pretty good tonight. Grabbing the cleaning supplies from the closet, Grace scrubbed away at the floors and counters, hoping that soon the morning crew would come in so she might get to go home on time tonight. That was until the bell above the diner's entrance rang. Defeated, Grace put down the mop, washed her hands, and walked to the hostess stand. She paused. These were not the typical travelers or criminals she was used to seeing. Before her stood an older woman and a young man. Her eyes fell upon the woman who stood before her, an enigmatic figure that seemed to defy time itself. Cloaked in a long, elegant gown that exuded a sense of regality, the woman carried herself with an air of ageless wisdom. Grace couldn't help but wonder if she was in her 60's or 70's, for there was a timeless quality about her. Her hair, intricately styled into a crafted updo, accentuated the aura of authority that enveloped her presence. Dark, penetrating eyes bore down on Grace, seemingly peering into the depths of her soul, while her lips, thinned but not unkind, formed a subtle yet knowing smile. Despite the initial intensity of their gaze, Grace felt an unexpected warmth emanating from the woman. Like a long-lost grandmother she never had the chance to know. Beside her stood a young man, about Grace's age, perhaps a few years older. He had a crooked grin that showed long, thick fang-like teeth, catching Grace off guard. They were so prominent, in fact, that they overshadowed how handsome he was. Not only that, but his eyes were that of gold. "Do we seat ourselves?" the woman asked. Grace blinked, squinting her eyes shut, and looking back at the two of them. "Apologies, would you like a booth or a table?" "A booth will do fine," the woman said. "Is that one okay?" Grace looked back at a booth tucked in the far corner and nodded her head. Allowing the two to take the lead, Grace followed the odd pair. Placing menus and silverware down in front of them, she pulled a tattered pocket notepad from her apron and clicked her pen open. Scribbling down on the pad to encourage the ink of the drying pen to flow, she greeted them. "My name is Grace," she smiled, "what can I-" she paused, looking over at the handsome man, "uh, what can I get you tonight?" Furrowing her brow, Grace thought there was something off about him. He was tall, not just tall for a man, but tall for a human. Broad-chested with thick, toned shoulders, hair flipped out in every direction, and supporting a strong jawline and a crooked nose that looked to have been broken several times throughout his life. The older woman narrowed her eyes on Grace, watching her study her partner. "Tea," the woman said, "green tea, hot, with lemon, please." "Coffee," the man said, rubbing his eyes, "black." Grace nodded, jotting down the order, and scurried off to start their drinks. "She looked at you as if you had three heads," the woman observed. "Relax," the man smirked, "most women stare." The woman chuffed an angry laugh. Looking back at him, she thinned her lips and fiddled with her fingers. "I don't think I have ever seen you nervous," he said softly. "Master Bloodthorn," the woman whispered, "will not be happy we have not found a suitable contender for the upcoming games." "We have time," the man said, "the world's prospects are dwindling; I am sure we are not the only ones who are struggling to find a-" "He will not care about the others and their struggles, Magnus," the woman snapped, "it is his power and status on the line." Magnus tisked, crossing his arms and leaning back into the booth. "Who cares," he snarled, "one less demon to-" "Here you go!" Grace appeared at the end of their table, setting down their drinks. "What can I get you to eat?" Magnus glared at Grace. "We're fine, just the drinks." "Oh-" Grace twitched her jaw at him, "kay, well, call if you need me," she said, backing away from the table, looking towards the door to see another waitress, Amber, walk in. Amber was a young girl with yellow hair braided into two plaits. "Thank God," Grace whispered to herself, running up to Amber. "Morning," Amber smiled, "ready to go home?" "Yes!" Grace grinned, "just waiting on-" she glanced back at the table, "those guys." Amber looked over at Magnus and blushed. "Wow, he is-" "Weird," Grace grimaced. Magnus frowned, glaring up at the two girls from across the restaurant. "That girl, our waitress," he whispered to the woman, "she's odd." "Keep your mind out of the gutter," the woman scolded. "Shh- she's talking about us." "Weird? Weird how?" Amber pestered, following Grace as she mopped the entrance flooring. "Look at him," Grace frowned, "he's like ungodly tall, and who wears gold contacts?" "Gold contacts?" Amber looked over towards the table, "his eyes look brown to me." Magnus tucked his chin down, "she's a soulseeker." The woman set her tea down harshly, "are you sure? That girl?" "She can see my eyes, I bet she can see my fangs as well, must be looking for a new witch too," he snarled, "explains the way she's been looking at me." He began to stand, stopping only when the woman put her hand out. "Sit," she said calmly, "think about what you say. why would a soulseeker be working at a diner?" Magnus crossed his arms over his chest and flicked his ear. "They are talking about what still needs to be done; the girl is about to step into the back to take out the trash." The older woman smirked, seeming to understand that Magnus was not going to leave the girl alone she reached into her cloth handbag and unclapped the metal pendant. Her long, slender fingers reached into it and pulled out a glass figure of a cat. Handing it over to Magnus, she watched as he excused himself and slipped off into the darkness behind the diner. Grasping the glass in his hand, he watched the back door of the restaurant. The double door cracked open, and he could see the corner of Grace's uniform as she struggled to pull the large bag of garbage out. Wasting little time, Magnus tossed the glass figure down the alleyway, watching it shatter. To his horror, he saw the girl perk up finally, past the door. Amber. She looked around for the sound she heard but saw nothing. Magnus ducked behind a dumpster, baring his fangs. He peeked past the lip of the box and watched where the figure shattered. Bubbling black sludge from the walls surrounded it, hissing and growling, muttering together to take shape. A rancid smell filled Amber's nose, making her stop and look around once more. She ignored the putrid shadow of the monstrous cat, and its size grew until it towered over her, baring down glass shards of teeth and looking through pupils' eyes. "Bro, if you can't get all the trash, you should just say-" Grace began to scold Amber as she grabbed the trash from her and stepped into the alleyway, stopping cold in her tracks. "Gotcha," Magnus snarled. Grace froze, color draining from her lips as she looked up at the autopsy of a catlike figure. Its breath rolled out of its broken, bloodied jaw and engulfed the two girls in the smell of rotting flesh. Amber gagged. "God, what is that-" she shouted before Grace pushed her back into the restaurant with all her might, slamming the door behind her. Tears welled in Grace's eyes. "What-what are you-" Magnus furrowed his brow. "Why isn't she fighting back?" he thought, looking over at the door, “no calling upon her demon? No nothing? And, did she just save that girl?” Stumbling back, Grace fell on her butt, tossing her hands up over her face. "Stay back!" she shouted. The monster roared, bringing up its sloppy paw high over her head. She could hear its nails flick out like a switchblade. "She can clearly see it," Magnus frowned, "why isn't she fighting?" He stood ready to resolve the cat back to nothing, when a bright, blinding light illuminated the walkway. A surge of heat so warm it felt as though the air had turned to spring, wrapped itself around him. It did not burn, it did not hurt. Yet still, his sight was gone, replaced with pure white. The yowling of the cat shrieked into the darkness, and just as fast as it appeared, the light was gone. Magnus winced, his body feeling heavy, like lead. He crumbled to his knees, squinting his eyes to make out Grace, lying on her back amongst the trash and putrid cursed cat nowhere to be seen. …..