The 45 girls of Lightcraft
A tall bluish-brown skinned girl in a native Indian-american dress travelled through the night on a lush green mountain plain, where the grass was long enough for wind to ripple the grass as though it was the ocean. In her hand, there was a longbow filled to the brim with magic. The sky with its starry eyes stared at this lonely figure, when she stopped at the peak of a grassy hill and she drew the straightest arrow and aimed it at the night sky, as though she had a grudge against the unforgiving stars in the space above.
"Houmonovi scardi, find her and warn her, my little lines of wisdom," she said, before she released the string and the arrow shot out, light shards that formed a phoenix, before disappearing into the dark sky.
Chapter 1
There was a campfire in the middle of a dark wood, and while the hunters were almost ready for anything, they were not ready for a child in a loin cloth filled with magic marks that supplied warmth and protection, but only enough for an hour or two. It was plainly obvious to the hunters that the child was abandoned for the hunters to find, since the child was crying and shouting incomprehensible words that shook even the toughest nerve of the men, so they quickly calmed the child and sent the quickest man to carry the child back to the camp.
"Child, what is your name?" the nanny at the campfire asked the child, who was shivering even at the presence of a huge fire. The child shivered, and spoke in a clear voice, "My name is Armarmia Gedons."
"Armarmia, which is such a wonderful name by the way, can you read this out please?" the nanny handed out a piece of encrypted paper that reveals a person's true nature. Armarmia took the piece of paper and read out what is normally expected for a Duranei, the first half of the Duranei beliefs. However, the second half was in witch's Latin, the second half of the witch's tale. The people around the campfire gasped and muttered endlessly, scared of the little girl in front of them.
"She's a witch!"
"She's an enemy!"
"Kill the witch!"
"Witch! Witch! Witch! Witch!"
The girl was frightened, her blue skin suddenly becoming bitonal, as the witch's pure white surfaced, and covered her abstractly. Suddenly, a Latin mark of silence appeared, and everybody became still. "Take me to the Lightcraft academy, the ones that has only girls in it, and I will join the ranks of the 45 ladies of Lightcraft, the highest position a female can achieve, short of becoming the empress, and I will prove to you that a mixed blood can be noble!" the little girl cried out, though it was plainly obvious that it was not her voice, since she was still trembling and the voice was booming and deep, so deep it shook the very core of man and woman, forcing themselves to even keep on breathing, since that voice surely took over their lungs. The girl then became blue again, and collapsed.
Later that fateful night, a horde of imps closed on the villages, wearing combat gear and chameleon clothes. They stored camouflaged guns in their spiritual pouches, and snipers positioned themselves on stationary flying dragons that were harnessed for the special ops. These imps were highly reliable to finish the job, with as little casualties as possible, mainly because they were technical assassins. Nature had forced imps to be assassins since their strength and defence weren't as good, so they became streamlined and fast, with poisonous shards in their skin and automatic suicide glands if they were captured. They were also very quiet and their weight is spread out evenly, so that they don't make as much noise.
The leader silently got out a M700, a standard sniper, and set his sights on the nearest guard. An explosion of blood and bone sprayed the wall behind him, and they crept on. They were given orders, namely 5th freedom for everyone but the little girl, whom was to be sent to the F.M.R (Facility for Mixed Races) before they set fire to the village. The special ops were never told why, since that was confidentiality on the customer's part. They approached the girl, as though approaching a blade of grass. As a hand stretched out to her head, her eyes snapped open and then all was black.
"Armarmia? Armarmia? Where are you, you little witch?" the nanny of the orphanage called out, for in the middle of night there were loud noises and the nanny was fed up. As she walked into the outside, she saw hundreds of corpses and gunfire, so she screamed, as an imp put a in her head, which disappeared under a stream of bone and blood and brain. "Complete annihilation," the imp whispered, and headed outside to the treacherous night.
As her eyes opened, the imp hesitated, but that hesitation cost him his life, since Armarmia breathed fire from her mouth and the imp's head was engulfed in flames, melting his brain. The other imps opened fire, but Armarmia dodged, killing everyone by using her knife and stabbed them in the head. As the last imp in the room fell to his earthen grave, she picked up the automatic machine gun in his hands, and exited, shooting point-blank at the imp's head who was standing guard. With blood and white flesh splattering the floor, as Armarmia looked around, she saw imps surrounding her. Not only were they prepared, some were in a seething rage because they saw their brother-in-arms massacred by this girl.
"Little girl, we mean you no harm, but we need to escort you to your destination, and if you go with us willingly, we will not kill you, but any resistance will be punished," the leader spoke into the microphone, and the little witch smiled.
"And what if I refuse?"
"You die; it's as simple as that."
Armarmia smiled, and a black light surrounded her.
"Don't underestimate the power of a witch…" and the black light expanded and engulfed the imps, signifying the end of the battle. All there were left of the camp, was an encrypted paper, the bottom half still showing Latin.