Crescent Coven

The snarls bounced off the walls of the cavern and travelled down the lengths of the tunnels, mixing with the horrific sounds of tearing flesh and breaking bones. The stench of blood filled Aralt's nose and mixed with the dampness of the cave system around him. This was bad, this was incredibly bad. He knew he was only seconds away from the entrance to the cavern and pushed himself harder to get there as quickly as he could. Even with his super human strength and speed he was still not fast enough, having wanted to have been there as soon as he found out what Sloane had done. They had been blessed by the gods themselves, Aralt's bloodline and his tribe. Gifts of special abilities, superhuman strength and speed, healing abilities like none had ever seen, and some with even more enhanced skills and abilities like bending the minds of others or ability to control the elements. There seemed to be no limit to the range of gifts awarded to them, Aralt and his people. For thousands of years they lived in prosperity, wanted for nothing and lived peacefully in their small village. Everything had been so perfect, Aralt had been the strongest leader the tribe had seen for many years. His mother and father had prophesied his arrival to this world and sensed he was destined for great things. At first it appeared he was not awarded any special abilities aside from the typical speed and strength the whole tribe was awarded, although he had been blessed with ethereal features. His hair was the colour of spun gold, his skin was perfectly golden brown as if he had been kissed by the sun even before it had touched his skin, his eyes the most incredible combination of green and amber the likes none had ever seen. When he looked at you, even as a baby, it appeared as if Aralt was staring into the very depths of your soul. Everything changed when he met Sloane. They were similar ages, Sloan from a strong warrior family from one of the neighbouring tribes. The first time they met they were merely 5 and 8 respectively, whilst the villages had converged for the winter festival. Sloane was a rambunctious child with ringlets of thick, beautiful red hair that hung down her back and flew out behind her as she had run and played with the other children. Her pale skin was dusted with a spattering of freckles and her eyes were as blue as the seawater that crashed on the rocks at the base of the cliffs they congregated upon for tribal ceremonies and meetings. As soon as 8 year old Aralt had laid eyes on little Sloane, he had run to his mother and pulled on her skirts, screaming "máthair máthair, who is that girl? She glows like fire!" Aralt's mother looked down at him sweetly, then crouched beside him. "I am not sure Mo chroí (my heart), why don't you go and ask her?" He looked at her with a huge smile on his face, gave her a big kiss on the cheek and ran to Sloan in the blink of an eye. "Hi! My name is Aralt, what's yours?" he had screamed at her. "I'm Sloane, do you want to play chasings? Bet you can't catch me!" she yelled and giggled as she started running away. Aralt was after her in a flash, and reached to grab her little hand as she tried to outrun him and his superhuman speed. As soon as their hands connected a blinding light exploded from where their hands touched. It enveloped both of the children, making them glow and they floated up into the air, laughing and smiling at each other. The other members of the tribes watched on in amazement at the scene that was unfolding before them, some falling to their knees as they looked up in awe and wonder, most with their mouths hanging open as if they had suddenly forgotten how to keep them closed. The two children were so enthralled in their fun that they didn't notice everyone staring, lost in their own world. The blinding light slowly subsided and the children gently floated to the ground, landing lightly on their feet. Sloane giggled and blushed, still holding Aralt's hand. "That was so much fun! Can we do it again?" she said, looking hopefully into Aralt's mesmerising eyes. "I'm not sure, I've never floated before! It's your turn to catch me now!" he squealed and began to bounce off in the opposite direction. Only this time as he pushed up and off the ground he began to hover. "Woah, look at me máthair, I'm like a bird!" he yelled out as he floated and spun in the sky. Sloane looked up at him, determination written all over her freckle spotted face. Even at the mere age of 5 she was determined never to loose a battle. She pushed her little feet off the ground and began floating herself, quickly leaning toward the direction of Aralt and reaching out to him. Only when she did, Aralt was swept up into a gust of wind and brought straight to her, where she touched his hand, giggling uncontrollably. "Hey that's no fair, you didn't chase me at all!" Aralt crossed his arms over his chest as they both touched back down to the ground again, completely unphased by their new found abilities. Aralt looked around at this point and noticed everyone was still staring at the two of them, most with mouths still agape. He turned back to Sloan and giggled, leaning down and whispering in her ear, "I think everyone's trying to catch bugs in their mouths keeping them hanging open like that!" Sloan looked around and laughed, picked up Aralt's hand again and started running around the tribe members at super human speed, ducking and weaving in between legs and bodies until they reached the edge of the cliff. They both stopped and looked at each other, smiling happily, then took their free hands and raised them up to the heavens, palms upwards. Their eyes began to glow again as they both lifted up into the air whilst fire began to pool in their little palms. A ring of rocks began to circulate around their waists while a stream of blue seawater rose up from below the cliff and began to circle the children. A huge gust of wind travelled through the meeting spot, rushing towards the children and circling them in a sphere whilst the whole cliff top began to start growing the most beautiful white flowers. All the tribe members watched in awe as they began to hear the two children's voices in their heads. "We are destined for each other, by blood and by birth. Our gods have made us strong together, for the battles to come. You, our people, will always be safe under our protection. The gods have willed it to be so." Aralt and Sloane began to gently float down to the sea of flowers they had grown, smiling and laughing the whole time, never letting go of one another's hands. Once their feet had hit solid ground Aralt and Sloane's parents had rushed toward the two, crushing them in hugs and kisses, whilst whispering their blessings to the gods for fulfilling the prophecy foretold before Aralt arrived earth side. From that moment on Aralt and Sloane's abilities had grown beyond anything the tribes had ever seen. All of Sloane's tribe members had developed the superhuman speed and strength that up until the winter festival had only ever blessed the members of Aralt's tribe. The leaders of both tribes had made the decision to merge both of their tribes together, seeking safety and comfort in each other's presence. Aralt and Sloane were inseparable, their abilities and power growing as each day in each other's presence went by. Their fondness for one another grew and blossomed as they did, evolving into love and beauty as pure as both their souls. By the age of 18 Aralt's father had handed over the leadership of their tribes to him and with Sloane at his side there was nothing and no one that could harm them. They and their people prospered better than ever before, but everything came crashing down around them when the witch arrived. At first they had thought her a traveller. She had claimed to have come from a far away distant land and had traveled long and far across the seas and lands, exploring the world. She would tell fantastic stories of her travels, of wars she had fought and won or lost, of lands filled with sand as far as the eye could see, of forests filled with creatures that sounded like they were make-believe. She enthralled them all with her tales of wonderment and exploration. None of them, not even Aralt and Sloan knew what she was doing in secret. Slowly sapping the energy of the tribes, draining their gifts and using it for herself, to make herself stronger. It wasn't long before Aralt and Sloane caught on to what she was doing. They had made efforts to be amicable with the witch, offering her the cavern as a place for her to worship her gods and this is how she had repaid them? Aralt and Sloane were saddened, but the witch had already won over so many hearts within their tribe that they decided to try and take a stealth approach to rid them of her. That is until Sloan figured out her plan, to hold a séance within the cavern to communicate with evil spirits and the god of darkness and death and enlist their help to take the tribes life force and powers for herself. By the time Sloane found out it was already almost too late. She quickly scribbled a note to her beloved Aralt and went as fast as she could to the witches den. Aralt had been hunting with the tribes men, preparing for the upcoming tribal convergence for the celebration of his and Sloane's much awaited wedding. When he arrived back to their home and saw the note he had raced as fast as he could, desperate to get there to save her from the witch. But it was too late. He burst into the cavern and looked in horror at the scene before him. There was blood covering every surface of jagged rock, pools of water and fire littering the floor. A stone altar the witch had erected was smashed, broken into 4 pieces. The witch lay on her back on the floor, gasping for breath next to the altar. Sloan was laying on the other side of the cavern, completely still. Both hers and the witches clothes were in tatters, they were covered in deep scratches, bloodied wounds and bruises. Aralt ran to Sloane and scooped up her motionless body. He had been too late, she was gone. Her eyes were completely void of life. He placed her gently back on the ground and brushed the wisps of hair off her beautiful face as the tears fell silently from his eyes. He slowly stood and turned to the witch, nothing but pure hatred and bloodlust in his eyes. He was at the witches side in a matter of mere milliseconds and had suspended her in the air by her throat. "You will rot in hell for all eternity for what you have done, witch!" he seethed through clenched jaw, being careful to control his strength so as not to snap her filthy neck in that same moment. The witch looked at him and laughed. "You think you can threaten me, little man? I have lived a millennia, and I will rise again even if you destroy this body. Your little bodyguard may have thwarted my plans this time, but I will be back. Until then, I gift this to you and your tribes." The witches eyes turned black and her hair and tattered clothes began to float as if she was suspended in water. "I curse you, Aralt, and your kind. You will live with your gifts but you will be confined to the night, the light of day will sear the skin off your bones. Your only sustenance will be the blood of men. You will walk in the darkness, drinking the blood of others to survive. And as for your destined partner, she will reincarnate for 1000 years. Each time you will find her she will die a horrible, painful death. You will watch her suffer, over and over again until the 1000 years is up, then I will come for you and what's left of your pathetic people and drain the life force that you were so undeservedly gifted by the gods." she spat in his face. Aralt had heard enough. "Enjoy the pits of hell, witch." He snarled at her as he swiftly broke her neck with the twitch of his hand and dropped her lifeless body to the ground. He turned around and surveyed the scene once more and then dropped to his knees, letting out a roar of rage and sadness as he hit the ground. He made his way back to Sloane, his love and light laying on the floor, dead. He scooped her into his arms and made his way out of the tunnels. Before he left he turned around once more, his eyes glowing gold as the whole cavern erupted into flames. He made his way back to the village with Sloane's body in his arms, her head resting against his chest with her beautiful shock of curls falling down her back, parts of her mane matted with dirt and blood from her battle. He wanted to grieve in peace, but as he made his way closer to the village the sound of fighting and screaming could be heard, accompanied by the metallic stench of blood. He began running as fast as he could, and could not believe his eyes as he entered the village. It was a complete m******e. The bodies of visiting neighbouring tribe members littered the ground, their blood staining the grass and soil. People were running in every direction, terrified and frantic. Members of his and Sloane's tribes had turned absolutely ferral, canines elongated and fingers and toes had transformed into claws. They were attacking any human they saw move, pouncing on them and sinking their fangs into them, drinking their blood and sucking them dry. Aralt looked on in horror at the scene before him. It was too much, all of this was too much. He placed Sloane's body on a bed of flowers, miraculously untouched by the blood of others and turned around, ready to battle. He killed so many of his Kin that fateful night, most of them unable to resist the urge to feed with so many humans roaming their village. The few that remained had stood with him to defend the innocent people, trying to get as many of them to safety as they could. It was only as the sun started to rise that Aralt remembered what the witch had said. "You will be confined to the night, the light of day will sear the skin off your bones." He turned to what remained of his and Sloane's people's, once a tribe of hundreds reduced to 30 or so members. He cleared his voice. "Our people have been cursed. The traveler that we let into our village was a witch. She was going to kill us all and drain us of our god gifted energy, but Sloan found out her plan and was able to stop her. Sloane sacrificed her life to save us, but it was not enough to kill the witch. I found them after their battle, and with the witches dying breath she cursed us all. She awarded us immortality and our gifts will remain, but we will never be able to walk in the light of day again. Our only sustenance is the blood of humans. I am sorry, my people. I have failed you. We must make our way to the caves before the sun rises, or the flesh will melt from our bones and death will meet us swiftly." The remaining tribe members looked at one another with confusion and sadness, not wanting to believe what Aralt said was true but unable to deny his claims due to the events of this fateful night. Some started to make their way to the caves, whilst others remained where they were. An older woman, battle worn and strong of character stood forward. "Aralt, thank you for all you have done for our people and for me, but I do not wish to live this way. I wish to stay and die by the hand of the rising sun this morning, I could not bear to drink the blood of another human being." Aralt looked at her and the few tribes people that stood behind her, nodding their heads in agreement. "Very well." he said. "Those that choose too may be baptised by the light of the rising sun and find their deaths. The rest that wish to remain, make your way to the caves." He looked at Sloane and then turned to the woman. "Please, stay with her while the sun rises. She would want to be with her people." he said, voice unwavering despite the emotion that was threatening to break free. "Yes Aralt, we will keep her company until the end." The woman bowed to Aralt and picked up Sloane's body, walking with the others towards the entrance to the cave system. There was a clearing by the entrance, those that did not wish to enter the caves ended their journey there. The remaining members embraced one another before separating from those who did not wish to live with the curse that now plagued them. Aralt looked on at the scene before him, remaining steadfast and stoic. Once the members that wished to go to the tunnels were safely inside, he turned to the warrior woman that held Sloane in her arms. He bent down and kissed her tenderly on the head, her body cold and her once vibrant skin dull and void of life. He let a tear fall while he whispered to her "until we meet again, mo anam cara (my soulmate)." With that he looked at the woman, thanked her again and made his way into the caves. As much as he wanted to stay with Sloane, he knew his people would need him now more then ever while they tried to navigate their lives now with the curse constantly looming over them. He stood in the entrance of the cave and watched the 10 members of his tribe that decided to stay behind while the sun rose. As the first tendrils of light began to hit the clearing, the people began to pray to the gods, feeling their end nearing. The sun began to hit their bodies, and that's when the screaming began. Blood curdling screams of pain, terror and fear filled the air, along with the potent smell of burning flesh. The 10 members huddled together, holding each other's hands as each one began to burn and flame. The only one who didn't scream as she burnt was the warrior woman, standing steadfast and strong with Sloan's body in her arms, looking into the sky as she went up in flames, also burning Sloan's body in the process. It only took about 20 minutes for it to all be over, each member reduced to ash including Sloane. Aralt turned around and made his way further into the tunnels to join the remainder of his people, wiping the tears from his eyes as he made his way into the darkness.