Afterlife's Vessel

III

"Who is she..?"

Murmurs of similar content start to resonate inside the mine as an unfamiliar face saunters inside the mine. The hem of her black, ornamented cloak trailing against the uneven ground. She had a Junoesque silhouette, towering almost half a foot above everybody else. Along with height, her voluptuous features aided her in standing out among the crowd, resembling something as fictional as from a painting.

"I've never seen you around here..."

An elderly man taps on her arm, his eyes with alarming suspicion. The person next to him whispers something into his ears with a concerned expression.

"How'd you know?"

His arm instantly limps as he takes a trembling pace backwards, impetuously regretting his interaction. Her eyes dart to the side, where the man stands. She glares at him with malicious intent for a second, before forcing a smile, turning herself to face him.

"You're awfully inquisitive, aren't you?"

She raises her right hand, surging with visible magic energy, and grabs his face.

"Tower."

She announces unpretentiously.

Electricity starts travelling from the base of her arm and into the man's face. Before he could let out a full cry, his face gets fulminated, then melting into a concoction of liquified flesh with blood. She calmly retracts her arm, bathed in a scarlet red like the rest of her outfit. The man's headless corpse falls to the floor, splattering his ichor even further.

"I just washed this..."

She turns her head to check the bloodstains, sighing and refocusing her attention onto the crowd, all facing a horrified revelation.

"Hello, everybody! My name is Strain, and I'm a witch."

Strain goes on her tiptoes and scans the crowd, bearing a malevolent smirk when she spots them.

"You, over there."

She points her blood soaked finger towards the person, everybody in her trajectory all spreading apart, forming a distinct path between the two.

"Albori Arbre."

Strain curls her finger a few times, a disturbingly tender smile plastered on her face.

"Come here, boy. Unless you want to end up like that man, that is."

Without any options, Albori grips his sleeves fearfully, and proceeds to follow Strain's command. He arrives directly in front of her, His heart about to catapult from the sense of dread.

"Good. You're brighter than you look."

She leans down and whispers in Albori's ear, her voice as sweet as honey.

"I would've shaved your head clean off if you didn't."

Afterwards, she straightens herself and gives him a discreet wink, a deterrent from contravening her orders.

"Anyways, Albori. Give me your arm, either is fine."

He stares at his arms side to side, then both hands simultaneously. After considering it carefully, Albori extended his left arm, still trembling in fear.

"Stay still for me."

Strain holds her right hand in a fist, then uncurls the index and middle finger.

"Justice."

She flicks her wrist swiftly in a downwards motion. And like a pen; her fingers trace a translucent line, a magnified duplicate appearing on his shoulder, extending beyond his joint. A second afterwards, Albori's arm gets cleaved off.