Of all the underground witch trials in England, only one young girl ever floated the pond in chains. She was an outsider who the villagers grew suspicious of, and without ever learning her name they through her before the mob and demanded justice. The weary self proclaimed judge demanded she be immediately chained and thrown into the pond. But to his own amazement, this girl did not sink, and the waters began to shimmer. Minutes passed like seconds as everyone watched in amazement, until an unfamiliar shout “burn the witch” , was shrieked from the crowd. The still bewildered judge no longer bearing the hate in his heart was far too fearful not to feed the monster he had created. So to appease the mob, he ordered her burning.

As the men were retrieving the strange woman from the pond, a man cloaked darkly in a druids robes raised his voice and addressed the now attentive crowd. “You have witnessed the power of this witch. Would you then burn her in you own village, releasing this evil amongst you? Come with me, the druids have a place to dispose of such things, there we will burn her, and her evil will be banished from this land.” The people agreed, and for two days they trekked the countryside until they came to a peculiar stone circle where other druids were awaiting their arrival.

It was already late in the evening, the druids took the woman to the center of the circle and tied her to a stake that appeared to be placed squarely atop an alter covered with fire wood and reeking of pitch. One of the druids took a ceremonial dagger and cut her deeply on one leg well above the knee. They waited as a peculiar shimmering blood slowly found its way down her leg, onto the wood  finally landing atop the altar. Still standing in the wood, the druid holding the dagger gave a nod, and the other druids tossed their torches onto the wood. The pitch spread the fire quickly, and shrieks from both the druid and the woman filled the air for far longer than seemed natural.

An uneasy fear was growing on the crowd. The wailing had ended,and through the heated haze it was hard to determine, but it looked like they were staring at each other. Then the burnt ropes that had held her to the stake snapped, and the two leapt at each other. All but a few in the mob ran, leaving the judge and a few others watching this spectacle. And as the two in the flames battled the druids began chanting what sounded like a prophesy. “Even in the fire she guards the gate, but the guilt from judgement lingers. The fire fades away her unnatural age, and there he can lay his fingers.”

For what seemed hours they fought, but she seemed to be growing weaker. A forceful blow came from the druid landing her on her back. She tried to get up but the druid straddled her chest pinning both her arms then wrapped his hands firmly around her kneck. She weakly struggled against him but soon her body went limp, and the victor arose and watched as she quickly faded to a shimmering ash that was scattered to the wind.

Then the ground began to shake violently and pillars of light began to radiate all around. Several odd beings stepped forward from these lights and surrounded the mob. The druid who fought in the fire now turned his attention to the judge. “I thank you my friend for finding her, I have been searching a very, very long time.” The judge gathered his wits and pleaded, “please sir, allow us to be on our way.” The druid replied “fear not good judge, I have use for you all.” “You my friend, will be my eyes and ears in this world, and I will repay your service with immortality. But as for your 7 friends here, they are no use to me alive.”

With that the villagers were dragged and bound to the seven surrounding altars in the circle. The druid walked back to the judge where two others were making sure he did not leave. “They call me Arakai, and you might be?” The judge replied weakly, “Merin.” The druid motioned for the strange beings to back away then spoke, “Merin, I am going to rule this world and you will be by my side.” “And I am going to give you power you couldn’t even imagine, as well as your own army.” He pulled out the dagger that he had cut the woman with and placed it in Merin’s hand. “Your army and your power lie on these seven alters, now go claim what is yours.”

Drunk with a new lust for power, yet sickened by it all Merin moved to the first altar, dagger in hand. He knew this man, their children played together and their wives talked often, funny they had rarely spoken at all. His screams sounded like they were a mile away in a bucket, echoing through his head as he plunged the dagger into his heart almost throwing up. The next thing Merin remembers is stepping back from the 7th he had killed, as if some sort of trance had overtaken him.