The battle was swiftly done. Malcolm commanded a force too great in numbers for any resistance to be effective; Macbeth's doom seemed inevitable. It was then made secure once MacDuff presented the head of the serpent itself to Malcolm, ripping the crown from Macbeth's bloody nape-less head and placing it upon the rightful King of Scotland. The joyous victors exulted their leader, their cries of loyalty and splendor could be heard all around as Macbeth's head was paraded around on a spike. Malcolm urged them to be silent as he spoke of the future of his realm; the men listened with rapture at every word.
But there were three unseen womanlike figures standing at the rear of the crowd who watched with the same intensity and conversed quietly.
"Macbeth's day is done, his doom has come and gone and so must we," said the first.
"Ah yes, a new game must be played, for is it not true that we bore easily my sisters?" the second one smiled.
"You speak truth sister, I find the petty affairs of men amusing and long for more." the third stated.
"But this one will not easily be won dear siblings for he is stronger than the last." the first warned, eyeing the speaker.
"No sister, he is like the rest. He desires power the way all men do, he simply contains it within his conscience, which is easily broken." answered the second each laughed in unison.
"But I do believe we will find him to be much more amusing than the last." said the third one.
"I do agree, he will be much fun." said the second.
"Yes indeed he will, but we must take our leave now sisters for we have much to do." stated the first.
And with that the wind shifted and the figures were no more. Malcolm stood tall before his subjects as they cheered for him, but his mind caught hold of an invisible line that drew his attention toward an unseen object on the horizon, the wind whispering in his ear; "something wicked this way comes."
