The Witch's Retribution

Prologue

A/N: This is the sequel to The Knight's Deception. To avoid spoilers and some confusion, you may want to read the other one first.

The black-clad sorceress stood in the center of a scorched castle, the red dust of the kingdom and the blood of its queen decorating her boots as she strode across the onyx floor. Flames rolled out around her, brushing against the walls and circling the injured queen kneeling before her. "Oh, how I'm glad to see you kneel before me, Your Majesty." The sorceress spat with a mocking curl of her lips.

"I..." The queen turned her head to spit blood out onto the floor before she stood on shaking legs, her red dress rippling like the flames around them. "I will never kneel before you."

With scarred fingers, the queen pulled a blade from the hem of her dress, the iron burning into the sorceress's arm before either could blink. In that frozen moment, they could hear the shrill screams of the injured and the hissing of swords drifting in through the open door of the throne room. "What do you hope to accomplish, Enya? All this destruction, and for what?" The queen spat.

"Sybil, I had thought destruction was something you understood well." Enya replied, her fingers sticky with blood as she pulled them from her arm, clutching the hilt of the blade.

Sybil tensed, her left hand returning to the hem of her dress, a collection of tiny blades sewn into the fabric just as the first had been. "You plan to kill me, then?"

"Oh, no." Enya gave a feral grin. "Not I."

She stepped back, her black dress catching some of the flames around them though it didn't burn. She motioned towards the shadows, a tiny one moving from behind one of the ruby pillars. The flames revealed a boy, no older than six, moving to stand beside Enya, the fire licking at his skin like an overeager puppy. Enya handed the iron blade to the boy, uncaring at the hiss he gave as it burned into his skin, painting his hands a bright red. She ran her fingers through his dark hair, his bright blue eyes staring at the blade with little interest.

"This is all he left me." Enya murmured, the quiet whisper skittering along the walls. The boy's fingers tightened onto the hilt of the blade. "He will accomplish what his father couldn't."

***

"Smoke's coming from the castle." A man told his wife gruffly as she shook out the laundry.

Her bright green eyes contrasted greatly with her dark skin as she looked up to stare into the late afternoon sky. Thick black smoke surrounded the crags of the mountain that protected the castle, and the woman felt her heart sink with apprehension. She folded the large tunic in her hands and held it close to her chest. "It's begun. I knew it was only a matter of time."

"Tia..."

"Mom?" A quiet voice spoke from the open doorway of their little house.

"Taylan." Tia turned to the boy. The nine-year-old watched her with frightened brown eyes, and Tia turned back to her husband. "Alfonse, ready the horse." They only had one horse, but Alfonse went to fetch it without a word.

"What's goin' on, Mom?" Taylan asked.

"Come here." She held her arms out to him and gathered him close, pressing his head against her chest so he could hear her heart beat out its steady rhythm. "My baby. My son. Everything will be fine, just you wait and see." He trembled against her, but she only held him tighter, trying to pour as much of her love as she could into the action.

Alfonse brought the horse around while Tia continued to murmur soothing words to their son. She unclasped the dark cloak she wore and draped it over the child whose eyes were wide with confusion and even more fear. "Now, Taylan, you must listen closely." Tia said as she clasped the dark cloak with a golden brooch. Tiny sparks flickered along his skin, his magic scratching to break free. Tia no longer feared it, not even during the rare times when it crackled along her son's skin or brushed against hers. "Something bad is happening here, and you must remain safe."

"What about you?" Taylan interrupted. "What about Dad?"

Alfonse looked away as Tia continued speaking, her smoky voice soft and warm. "We'll be fine. We are warriors."

"I can be a warrior too!"

"Taylan." Alfonse spoke but instead of looking at his son, his eyes swept out over the sooty ground and the volcanoes off in the distance. The sky above had become a rusty red that was slowly darkening with the gray of ashes floating down like snowflakes. "Even warriors know to listen to their mothers. Your battle is not here. Not now."

Taylan bit at his bottom lip, small fists trembling at his sides, but he let his mother speak. "It will be fine, my little one." She brushed her fingers along his cheek. "The horse will guide the way to safety. You must not return here unless it is your intent to bring help. Do not return alone."

"Who should I bring?" Taylan asked in a shaky voice.

Tia's eyes shone as the ashes collected in her brown hair. She opened his hand and drew a shape into his palm. "A young man who bears this crest. That is all you must know."

"But how will I know him?" Taylan asked, tugging his hand away.

"If he still lives, he will know you, and he will protect you." Tia said. Her eyes flicked up to stare at the smoke-covered castle in the distance. They did not have long. "You must go. Now."

She hefted Taylan up onto the charcoal horse, pulling the cloak tight to hide his face and dark curls. "You will be safe. I promise you." She stepped back as Alfonse hugged their son tightly, the blacksmith's stoic demeanor nearly crumbling as Taylan tried not to cry, missing his parents before he had even gone.

Tia slapped the horse's rear and watched as it took her son away, unable to tear her eyes away until he had well disappeared into the distance. Alfonse handed her a sword, one he had crafted himself, and she held it with the ease of a warrior in battle, her worn dress spinning around her old boots as she turned. She heard the sound of hooves against the dusty ground, and on the horizon caught the first glimpses of the army of pale knights.