The Witch's Game

The white sliver of the new moon sat high in the sky, but it did nothing to cut through the thick quiet that had descended upon the night. It was just before midnight, but the usual bustle and laughter of the weekend nightlife was absent. Tonight, as it had for many nights, the lonely breeze whispered through eerily empty streets, silent storefronts, seemingly haunted bars, and trees that barely seemed to breathe a word.

In the heart of the city, a solitary figure rushed out of the palace gates and into his car without taking notice of the world around him. It was not until the vehicle started moving that Prince Erik finally caught glimpses of the city through the window.

It was not the first time he had seen it like this, but every time the slow, familiar burn of his anger and frustration started to turn deep in the pit of his stomach. His hands curled into fists, his jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed even as they continued to watch the silence on the other side of the moving car.

This was his city. This was to be his destiny, his future, but his father was doing nothing to save it. He had completely lost control of it to Alexandar, the head of the underground. His father thought talking was the way to win this war, to win back his people, but he didn't see it the way Erik did.

The war had started slowly with Alexandar taking an inch here and an inch there, slowly winding his way into the heart of the people. He wanted the streets and fear and violence were his strategies. They had worked. They had worked so much better and efficiently than all of the strength and reassurances Erik had put into his promises.

This was his city and, with the help of Melaina, a witch, this was the night he would take back that control. He was done waiting for his father.

"Sir. We're here."

Erik's head popped up as Luca's voice filled the car. Catching his body guard's deep brown gaze, there was no mistaking the concern that had settled there, but Erik was already turning back towards the window, eager to set his eyes upon his destination.

A surprisingly simple, light colored house sat at the end of a walkway. It looked, well, normal and even through the darkness, he could make out the beautiful landscaping decorating the front. He had expected something much different than what lay before them. Erik shifted his gaze back to Luca and spoke, unable to keep the incredulity from his voice.

"This is it?"

Luca nodded but kept his eyes on the Prince's.

"Yes, Sir, this is the address you gave me."

Taking a breath, Luca let his worry come tumbling out as he tried once more to make Erik see reason.

"Please Sir, please reconsider this mission. I don't think this is a wise choice."

Erik nodded and studied Luca, taking in his stiff, uneasy posture and the desperate tone of his words.

"Luca, this is the only way... this is the only option I see left for us. Alexandar doesn't respond to words, only strength, and my father, the king himself, has never taken my advice seriously. I'm heir to the throne. I need to make this right."

In a small whisper, Luca spoke his next words.

"I fear for the worst, Sir."

Erik understood Luca's fear. He could feel it deep within himself as well. It felt like he had swallowed a large rock and it was slowly, slowly growing inside of his stomach, weighing him down, casting long shadows of doubt across his mind.

He had never met a witch before. But he had made up his mind. He had to win.

"Thank you, Luca. But I must do this."