Duty (One-Shot)
Rating: PG
Timeline: Post-Season 1 Finale
POV: Katrina Crane
She awoke in a cavern. Where, she did not know. The aura of dark pervasive magic littered the air, a stench she had grown more familiar with than she would have wished. Her bound hands shifted against the cold texture of dirt and stone, a physical reminder that she was still in the mortal realm. Thoughts of her husband plagued her mind, knowing without a doubt they were separated once more.
The last memory she remembered, with such painful clarity, was of her son, the precious beautiful boy she once held in her arms, her heart and soul.
But instead of Jeremy, the vision of him morphed to the unforgiving eyes of Henry Parrish.
Purgatory was a mere stepping-stone to her true punishment.
For the briefest of moments, she was relieved of his survival, but the reprieve was cuttingly short-lived. The knowledge of what her son had endured during her absence had crippled her.
Questions abounded.
Where had she gone wrong? She had left him in the care of kind trustful people. Had they died? She should have foreseen, or at least suspected her child would inherit her powers, but magic itself was a fickle nature and more often than not, skipped generations.
Memories of her own childhood surfaced, parents who were loving yet firm to remind her that she was a gift, different yet special. Not a monster. Except she had hoped her son would be spared from such uncertainty, to never have to share in the same insecurities and fear of discovery that those first few tumultuous years inevitably brought.
She was wrong.
Oh so very wrong.
Seconds passed yet it felt innumerably like hours, she could feel the tell tale signs of fear burgeoning in the pit of her stomach.
Her husband was in the hands of an enemy neither of them could fathom harming.
All felt lost.
She let her eyes adjust to the darkness as much as it would allow. From a distance, she could finally see the faint outline of her captor; Abraham, the man to whom she had once been betrothed, had become completely unrecognizable.
Death remained still as a statue, waiting.
Her awareness growing, she could sense day ebbing, the eclipse long past, and the Horseman of Death waiting for cover of night to do as he would.
Like her time in purgatory, echoes of her past haunted her waking moment. How could one gain and lose everything at once?
With one deep quiet breath, she steeled herself. Cleared her mind of all. Broken, she may be, not destroyed. Vengeance was no use to her. Revenge, less so. The past could not be undone, and she would not leave this world without a fight.
Summoning her strength, she closed her eyes and finally felt a familiar friend returning to her.
For years she was taught control. To work behind the shadows. To never engage an enemy without cover. Even against her wishes, she was forced to keep a part of herself from her own husband. Bound by the covenant of silence of which her kind adhered to so protectively.
But no longer.
This was a different time.
A different place than the one she knew.
Reaching deep within herself, her magic flowed, and with one touch, her power and mind opened to the heavens.
"Sisters. Brothers. If you are out there, the End of Days have come. War and Death have risen. The Witnesses destined to fight them are in grave danger. Save them. Uphold your duty and answer my call."
The power of her message sent an invisible wave of magic out of her with Death unaware, slipping through the cracks against the walls of the cave. One by one, witches and warlocks living normal lives from across the lands stopped and heard.
As the sun slowly descended from Sleepy Hollow, fire ignited around her in a perfect circle, encasing her in its heat. She recognized immediately the ancient symbols that surrounds her, and knew right away that even if her hands were not bound, she was trapped inside it.
A cell made of fire.
Fitting that it would be so, yet ironic that it would be used to contain her.
If she had enough time, she could break through it. Wielding fire had always come easily for her, but it was an element she avoided using due to its destructive power. But time was not on her side. Ichabod was in danger, and the longer Abigail Mills remain in her stead, the greater the certainty that Moloch would find her.
Death approached, and she could do nothing but stare at him defiantly. "I'm sorry for what has become of you, Abraham but you will never have me."
Death lifted his axe, taunting her.
"I am Katrina Crane, and I will not yield to you."
His deafening voice whispered to her mind.
"You are alone."
A faint sad smile appeared on her lips. "I was for a while." Then emotion all but disappeared from her face. "But no longer."
Not far from the entrance of the cavern, a slow white mist descended from varying directions and as it cleared, half a dozen people from different walks of life appeared in its place. Nothing tied them together beyond the two things they shared. Magic...
And the symbol they wore on their person.
On one of them, a Warlock, no more than 35 years of age carried that symbol on his ringed finger.
A five pointed star with a heart in the middle.
The Coven of the Radiant Heart.
They heard the call.
They are here to answer.