Dance of Devils

Chapter 1

Hi readers:) this is my first actual story and I'll be updating quite constantly considering that it's the holidays. Any comments are appreciated (especially if you intend to sing praises about me). Enjoy🤍

The night sky glistens with silent bright orbs, framing its pitch darkness in a glowing hue. It is an easel of blackness, painted with specks of stardust as greyish clouds shade the full moon. With the weeping willows bowing their elegant branches in the chill of the night, the scene would appear almost tranquil. But the coolness of the breeze caressing Raven Jenner's pale arms is merely the calm before the storm. The ocean waves howl in the distance, thrashing in tumultuous sprays that hiss as they slam against the jagged offshore rocks. Crimson bloodies Raven's vision, taunting the 16 year old prodigy with the metallic taste of lifeblood. Pulse elevated, Raven feels power singing through her veins as she grips the cyanide flask in her palm.

Steady. So very much unlike the clamminess staining her cold hands the first time she stepped into the arena. The first time. Those words taste foreign on Raven's tongue — two years is more than enough to part with her regretful memories tainting the past, and the people behind that history. But still her mind flashes back to it.

Pale cheeks hollowed and sunken in, the woman shrieks, the smell of alcohol suspending around her in reeking fumes. Her clothes are torn, ripped savagely at the waist with her hair in what would hardly be called an updo.
"Out!" Her bloodshot eyes scream murder, and there is something crazed about the look in those charcoal, soulless orbs that 14 year old Raven cannot ignore.
Shattered photo frames litter the floor sparsely, pictures of the woman's late husband strewn everywhere by the woman in hatred. She was never there when her daughters needed her the most upon her husband's death, hanging on to the thread of life with the effort of a dismembered individual in her casket. But Raven still loves this husk of a person, however undedicated she has been to her family. They are blood, bonded in ways that make the torments over the years all worth suffering.
Yet as the woman steps back to reveal 8 year old Bella chained to the wall in an unconscious, bloody pulp, something in Raven snaps. The arsenic she used in advanced chemistry is nestled in her threadbare backpack, a pathetic sight to behold. Raven takes in the sights again, fury stifling her senses to a numb throb in her ears. And she reaches for the poison, uncaps the bottle then shoves it down her mother's gaping mouth.
One.
Two.
Three. The woman starts choking as froth taints her glossy lips. Arsenic is already disrupting the cellular processes producing adenosine triphosphate.
Four.
Five. The woman stretches out a hand pulsing with protruding veins as she drops to the floor convulsing.
Six.
Seven.
Eight. The woman is dead as her eyes turn whitish, her head tilting back to the cold, harsh wooden panels.
And Raven tends to Bella before packing her bags silently and escaping the hellhole she once called her home. Without a word.

Brushing her melancholic thoughts aside, Raven pulls her shoulders back. Now, it is time for her next opponent. She hears the man is a brash brute, his main weapon a hefty machete to match his size. But she has seen many of him over the years. Brawny with not an ounce of brain on them. And she will kill him in cold blood tonight, as she does with all her victims for the underworld's entertainment. No hard feelings💞.

Slowly, almost to the point of dry comedy, she polishes her gleaming blade, an accurate, sleek knife that will be laced with tetrodotoxin for tonight. Every single throw of hers will be on pointé, a touch of elegant perfection to the barbaric nature of the matches. She is only here for the money, as are those in debt that grovel below her for mercy when they realise death is knocking on their doorsteps. Others are seekers of fame travelling to Venice, itching for a chance to fight with the supposedly legendary star of the underworld, a little golden girl wielding her concoctions of deadly poisons.

Straightening her immaculate bun resting neatly above her head, Raven heads for the bar a few blocks away, under which the congregations are held. Her tight black jumpsuit is clad, fitting comfortably on her callused skin. Rose gold eyeliner frames her amber eyes for an extra effect and a leisure smirk splays across her cherry lips. No one will underestimate her tonight. But they will not win either way.

Wicked as sin, sharp as glass; she will go for their jugulars with a predatory bloodlust tonight.

And Raven steps, dagger poised gracefully, into the cacophony of sounds.