The Legend of Zelda: Legacy of Darkness

A/N: Hello once again! Remember—you really should pay attention to the time; otherwise you'll be lost. I'll recap every once in a while for you guys, but paying attention still helps. Oh yeah, this is the last time I'm going to warn you about the extreme OOC-ness of the Castlevania characters (and I realize now…the slight AU of its storyline as well). By now most Castlevania characters will have made their appearances. And if you have problems with some of the issues I bring up, once again I say their not necessarilymy opinions, just the characters.

Oh yeah—please don't give away plot secrets from the game—thank you!

BTW: Yes people, it's still Day One. It kinda has to be. Oh yeah…I forgot that a stallion is a male horse…and I called Epona that a couple times. Heh—whoopsies! I'll try and look out for that in the future.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything from the Castlevania world (a.k.a medieval Walachia) or Hyrule/Termina. They belong to the wonderful people at Nintendo and Konami… oh yeah… I didn't create the Templar; that was made by, uh… the French? (But my version is modified anyways…)

PRONUNCIATION KEY: Traian (TRY-en)


Chapter Four: A Winde's Cry


DAY ONE (cont.)

The afternoon sun shone dimly down through the trees as an intruder was treading through them. The forest attempted to stall the man, making their branches cling to him and attempted to tear through his knight's armor, leaving nothing but scratches.

Henry Oldrey slashed his way through the forest, cutting off any tree branch that came in his way. Dammit, he swore to himself. Why the bloody hell did they take Nicholas? As soon as Carrie had returned he knew something was wrong—otherwise the girl wouldn't have been so somber. Had she returned angry…Henry's glower increased. He wished she had—at least then he'd have known that everything was all right.

Thank God that she did return home safely though.

He was heading back towards the Orphanage now, failing to find any trace of Nicholas. The man hated giving up, but sometimes a knight just had to know when to quit.

At the mouth of the forest, where Henry had first come from, he saw the Orphanage. He hastily sheathed his sword. Breaking into a run, he shot forwards, eager to get home and check up on how everyone was faring. You all had better be okay…As he reached the Orphanage porch, he stopped.

Something wasn't right.

There were marks of a recent struggle on the steps. And worse yet, there blood was splattered all over the porch. Panicking, Henry threw open the unlocked doors—vowing to lecture whoever left it open—and raced inside to look for the others.

"Ada! Where are you?" he called.

There was a rustling noise in the kitchen. Drawing his sword once more, Henry advanced towards the kitchen. Cautiously, he swung open the double doors. Whatever the hell you are…if you've hurt anybody at the Orphanage…

Upon seeing who it was, relief flooded him so heavily that he felt dizzy. His beloved wife Ada was sitting at the table, being tended to by one of the Orphanage workers, Traian. The seventeen-year-old was holding a wet cloth to Ada's cheek. Wet trails of tears streaked down Ada's face. Rushing forwards, he abandoned his weaponry on the kitchen floor.

Upon reaching his wife, he leaned down on one knee. Taking the cold, wet cloth from Traian, Henry placed it against Ada's cheekbone, where there was a rapidly purpling bruise. Traian sat down on a chair by the table, and grimaced at Henry.

"She was hurt by some intruders that burst in. I came down just as they were departing. They—" Ada cut in before Traian could finish.

"Henry! Carrie—they have her!" she cried out desperately. "Sir Samuel and his lot—you know what they're like! Henry, we have to do something!" Her voice was hysterical. Henry frowned. She took after her elder brother, Cornell, and stayed calm during these sorts of things. If Ada was frantic, than Henry knew things were out of control.

Putting the ice down for a moment, Henry wrapped his arms around his wife. His gentle actions rivaled against the furious thoughts boiling in his head. Bastards…they've no right to call themselves knights…hurting women and children…

Pushing his arms away, Ada forced herself up.

"Hey!" Henry protested, still kneeling. "You're hurt! You should be resting—"

"Come off it Henry!" Ada cut in, throwing her arms to the sides. "It's a mark on the face—if we don't hurry up Carrie will suffer a lot worse! They think she used her powers to kill Nicholas!" By the Lord…it's finally happened…

Henry jumped up at this. "Dammit all!" he roared. "Then they'll…Carrie—they're going to—"

"I know! But we'll only make it worse if we interfere—so how do we save her?" Ada cried urgently. Henry couldn't reply. He was too busy glowering at the wall before him, and filling his head with the most barbaric forms of revenge. How dare they

A hand to her head, Ada paced the kitchen.

"Oh Lord, Henry…" she whispered desperately. "This isn't right—we tried so hard to protect her from such a…fate…I don't understand Henry! How could we have let this happen?"

For the first time since Ada's outburst, Traian spoke up.

"You know," he began softly, staring at the floor. "I reckon we ought to keep our voices down. I don't know how the children will take this…news…well…Beth too—you know how sick she is, so…if they find out that she's been…they're going to…" Traian couldn't finish his sentence.

Ada nodded her head, calming down slightly. "You're right," she agreed. "We don't need to cause any more panic, in light of what just happened. I hope Beth went back to bed after she let Henry in. I don't think the poor dear could handle the shock…"

Henry was pulled out of his angry thoughts at these words.

"She never let me in—someone forgot to lock the door up," Henry growled, remembering the lecture he had prepared for the fool who had done so. Traian jumped out from his seat.

"She might've—she might've gone up earlier or something. You know how sick she was… I could go check," Traian offered. Ada nodded gratefully.

"Thank you Traian," she said. Henry furrowed his brow. Thinking of Beth had brought him out of his savage notions. Cursing himself for wasting time, Henry grabbed his sword off the kitchen floor and began re-equipping himself. Bloody hell, I'll be damned if Carrie's burned alive while I'm still around…


The two o'clock sun was faintly shining down on the base camp. The miserable gray clouds blocked out the majority of light and covered the garrison with shadows. Not at all appreciated by the knights who were supposed to be keeping guard on the Village's border. Demons who could move with stealth found it only too easy to slip past the guard. It wasn't as though the guard wasn't trying though; if anything, they were remaining quite vigilant. Especially in light of the recent attacks. The campsite was a fair size though; the knights on duty managed to take down most of the fiends. Even if it was after they'd entered the site.

Young Master Bogdan had taken part in a number of those fights, though now he had another duty to attend to. He was a quick and nimble lad; a benefit of young age. Being only a squire to the company, he was given trivial tasks when no danger was present. Trivial tasks such as delivery and message.

As Master Bogdan hurried to a solitary tent near the edge of the forest, he found himself shuddering. Only the Captain would be brave enough to sleep near the cursed forest…but then, the Captain was much braver than any of the other men in the encampment, in Master Bogdan's opinion. Upon reaching the Captain's tent, he threw open the flaps, and stepped inside.

There he stood; erect and hand saluting, as he waited for Captain Cornell to look up from his work. At the present Sir Cornell was hunched over his desk, scribbling over a piece of parchment that looked something like a map. As the knight's hand flew over the page, his entitled sword rattled gently on the desk.

The sword on its own was a sight to behold—it was called the Templar; and everything, from the pommel to the ricasso, had beautiful designs and scriptures intricately inscribed onto it. Only knights of rank had earned the privilege of wielding such a blade.

Master Bogdan had no doubt in his mind that Sir Cornell had sensed him; the elder knight was simply ignoring his junior until he saw it fit to respond to the intrusion. Captains tended to do those sorts of things, no matter how important the message was. Like now, he thought.

As Master Bogdan remained anxiously waiting there—and bursting to say his message—he couldn't help but see the frustration etched into the man's face.

The man is still one of the most alert knights, even after all these days of attacks…stress must be catching up with him, Master Bogdan thought sympathetically.

Watching Sir Cornell's hand flying over the parchment, Master Bogdan realized there was a very strange clash with the man—when he spoke there was usually ageless wisdom behind his words yet his physique retained its youthful vitality.

Though only thirty-eight, he had pure white hair that fell to the nape his neck and strands of hair that hung well into his gray eyes. The whiteness, however, was not due to aging. Rather it had been his since birth—though Sir Cornell never exactly said why.

His tanned face too was not elderly, but it held a look a cool serenity and understanding that many could only hope to achieve with the passing of their years. And while the face was normally a compassionate one, Master Bogdan noticed that at the moment it was wearing a very hard expression. Eyebrows furrowed, mouth set in a thin line, bothering the man seemed an undesirable prospect.

So Master Bogdan left him alone, and kept his message to himself until Sir Cornell acknowledged him.

Well, almost.

"Sir Cornell?" the young man inquired softly, unable to contain himself. Cornell sighed tiredly and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. The young man, sensing Sir Cornell's permission, walked further into the room. Stopping directly before Sir Cornell's desk, he stood tall with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Yes, Antony?" The elder man prompted, cocking an eyebrow at the young squire who had stepped into the room. The lad shifted uneasily. He isn't going to like this…

"I—I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but another attack took place just recently," he said. Adjusting himself in his chair, Sir Cornell rested his elbows on the desk in front of him.

The Captain was careful not to drop his arms too quickly though; the teetering stacks of paper were threatening to collapse at any given moment. The piles were, of course, plans, maps and different documents required to fight the damned demons who managed to cross Foggy Lake. Sir Cornell grimaced.

"Was anyone hurt?" he asked brusquely. Antony nodded.

"Yes, there were some injuries," he responded. Sir Cornell's grimace became more pronounced.

"Send word to the infirmary and request that they attend to the matter. And thank you for letting me know, Antony." Lowering his forearms so they lay flat on the desk, he sighed. On a note of dread, Sir Cornell then asked, "Were there any fatalities?" Antony nodded his head solemnly.

"One, sir. A boy named Nicholas," he said. Sir Cornell started Does he recognize the name…?

"Er—what exactly happened?"

Master Bogdan hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I'm not really sure, Sir. But—I know this is going to be hard for you to believe… he was… murdered—at the command… of the Witch this afternoon," he finished quickly, trying to get the worst over with as fast as he could. Captain Cornell stiffened.

So did Antony.

When he had been given the message by Sir George, he hadn't been keen on delivering it to their Captain. Sir Cornell tended to get a tad defensive over the Witch. Probably under a spell from her, Antony thought to himself. But now he has to see reason. One of the children died. He can't keep sticking up for the Fernandez girl…we need men like him to take care of Satan-worshippers like her—not fall for their deceptive hexes. In a hesitant voice, the Captain asked,

"Where did this attack occur?"

Poor man, he was the one to open it up eighteen-years ago, now that Witch betrays him…Young Master Bogdan gave Sir Cornell a sad look and said softly,

"The Village Orphanage, sir."

A shadow crossed over Sir Cornell's face. "Well, were Sir Samuel and his company of men there to help defend during the attack?" Antony bit the inside of his cheek and shrugged.

"In all honesty…I've no idea, sir. None at all—I was just told to deliver the message to you, the Captain," the squire responded. Sir Cornell scowled and snatched his Templar from the desk. Leaping from behind it, the man shot towards the door. He was up and out of the room before Master Bogdan even had a chance to wish him good luck.

Blinking in Sir Cornell's wake, Master Bogdan decided to help clear the desk. In the Captain's hasty leave, he had toppled quite a few stacks of paper. The lad began to pick them up, but paused when his eyes caught something unfamiliar.

It was a foreign map that he had never laid eyes on before. Very vague, it looked almost as though it had been drawn recently from sheer memory. Rubbing ink off his fingers, he realized this was what Sir Cornell had been working on moments ago. Master Bogdan was confounded when he read the top note, written in his Captain's own spiky handwriting:

On this child's eighth birthday, the soul of the true devil will wake from his sleep and play a destructive melody.

And right underneath that:

NINE DAYS.


It was still afternoon. And unfortunately, it had finally started to rain. Perhaps it was only spitting, but soon there'd be buckets of it. Regardless, dust continuously flew up as Cornell's feet padded across the ground.

The man ran with the speed and stealth of a wolf—a remainder, Cornell supposed, from a former time. As he raced through the outskirts of the Village, his mind fumed with questions. Are Ada and Henry okay? Are the children all right? Is—oh God—is Carrie okay? Panic flooded through him at the last thought. If people believed that Carrie had killed poor Nicholas, then… the results couldn't be good.

Cursing under his breath, he mentally prepared a good, long lecture for the girl once he got a hold of her. She ought to be more careful…I told her people are on an edge lately…he thought desperately. If something had happened to her...Dammit, why didn't she heed my words? As he neared the familiar Orphanage, he let out a fresh burst of speed. Racing up the stairs, he felt a horrible lurch as he glanced downwards at the signs of struggle.

Blood…his fears for Carrie's safety were increasing. Trying to ignore the horrible feeling of dread, Cornell burst through the door—praying Ada and Henry, alive and well, would be inside.


Ada heard Traian head up the stairs. Not that she cared much; her thoughts were on the matter at hand. Carrie…oh Lord, we have to help her!

"Henry—" she began, turning to her husband. Her eyes widened in shock as she watched her husband suit up. "NO!" she grabbed his arm. "Didn't anything I just say get through to you? We can't just barge in there and demand her release! How do you think they'll take that? You're a knight, you have to obey the Church—not fight it! "

Henry glared at her.

"But you're the one who said we have to do something!" He burst out. "So you think we should just stand here and plan, while Carrie could already be tied to the stake?" Henry took a step towards his wife and cupped her face in one hand. Wincing slightly, she felt his finger brush the bruise. "It's not just Carrie—they struck you too! You! You've never hurt anyone before, there was no reason—they should never have—they had no right!"

"Forget what they did to me! It's Carrie we need to be there for; that's why we have to think things through. She needs us to! Please, Henry, love; keep it together," Ada implored. Henry still looked furious. Why must he be so fierce all the time? His hate, his love…it always gets him into trouble.

Shifting his hand to around her waist, Henry pulled Ada into a close hug.

"Ada, I'm going," he whispered fervently into his wife's silver-blue hair. "I can't just wait here patiently until a plan comes to us. I just can't. I'll get Carrie back even if I have to—"

As to what Henry was willing to do, Ada never found out. Suddenly they heard footsteps pounding against the hallway carpet. Pulling out of her husband's grasp, she did a double take upon realizing who was intruding into the Orphanage kitchen.


Knight's boots pounding against the carpet, Cornell skidded to a stop in the kitchen. Looking up, he saw his younger sister and brother-in-law standing there, momentarily stunned. A look of immense relief swept over both their faces. Oh, thank goodness they're okay.

Dashing forwards, Ada threw her arms around her elder brother.

"Cornell!" She whispered urgently. "Nicholas, Carrie—they're both gone!"

Damn. His worst fears were confirmed. Pulling out of the embrace, Cornell studied his sister before him. Why is she hurt…? Cornell grimaced, predicting the answer.

"Ada, what happened?" he asked, in a soft voice. Ada bit her lip.

"They came, and—I told them to get out…but they—they—got me out of the way. Carrie—you know how she is—she came out into the hallway. They dragged her out of the house and tied her up before carrying her away. I tried to stop them… I really did… but they held me back," she finished lamely, eyes dropping to the floor. Cornell's grimace deepened.

"Did they hurt Carrie too?" he demanded, more softly still. Henry spoke up at this point.

"Hell yes!" Henry exclaimed, slamming a fist into the wall. Cornell shifted his attention to the younger man. "They tied her up Cornell—and you know who it was in charge of the group that stormed the place? Sir Samuel! What the hell are we supposed to do now?"

"Wait—Sir Samuel?" Cornell repeated, frowning. "Was he—was he here to help during the attack?" Ada shook her head. Cornell scowled, strong emotions building up inside of him.

It had been a number of years since Cornell had actually felt anger, hatred even towards Sir Samuel. Setting his jaw, he asked in a tight voice,

"So let me get this straight—he skived off his rounds to guard the Orphanage, but he was here to make sure Carrie was persecuted?"

No response. Henry and Ada shifted uneasily as a silence descended upon the room. Cornell's eyes narrowed and his voice had a dangerous edge to it.

"I see."

If Sir Samuel was in charge of hunting Carrie down…Cornell knew Sir Samuel well enough to know what the knight was capable of. "So that's why there was blood…" he muttered.

Turning to leave, he stopped when Ada inquired, "Blood? They hurt us Cornell, but they didn't raise a blade—against neither Carrie nor me,"

Henry frowned.

"But then where did it come from?" he demanded. "I saw it too—that and signs of struggle…"

Swift steps down the stairs interrupted their brief conversation. Turning their heads as one, they saw Traian standing at the kitchen door. The young man froze when he saw all of their eyes on him.

"Uhh…Beth, she—she's not upstairs," he said worriedly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Henry started.

"What do you mean Tri? Where else could she—" Ada interrupted Henry's question.

"Henry… Cornell—Beth. The blood. She was so sick…waiting at the door…no one noticed…" she whispered. Both men swore when the conclusion hit them.

Dammit, now Beth's missing too? Oh Lord…Concentrating his gaze on Henry, he said firmly,

"You go out and track Beth and whatever captured her. I'm going to go help Carrie." Henry didn't argue. Pushing past Cornell and Traian, he left the Orphanage. Cornell shifted his eyes to his sister. "Ada…" he began.

"Go, Cornell. Hurry up—for all the time we've wasted it could already be too late. But, you know Carrie. She—if anything…" she cast her eyes down, the unfinished sentence left hanging in the air.

"Don't worry. I knew well enough to give her the pendant years ago..." Ada locked gazes with him, and smiled slightly.

"Yes…the Blue Crescent Moon has always been there, hasn't it?"

With nothing but a nod, Cornell turned and raced out the door, leaving it swinging behind him. Oh Carrie…he prayed. I hope you haven't done anything to make it worse for yourself…


The hard dirt ground met her as she was thrown down carelessly. It was drizzling now though; the soil was sticking to her as she lay there. Her head was pounding from where she'd been struck when she wouldn't co-operate…the binds on her wrists were cutting into her…the bands around her eyes and mouth were so tight she could barely breathe… and on top of all that she was still horribly fatigued from the battle with the Corpses.

All in all, she felt like hell.

Gathered around were the bloody people of Winde Village who had cheered on as she was carried through the whole damned village. I hate you! Carrie screamed in her mind, unable to talk because of the gag in her mouth. I hope you all bloody die! Fear was coursing through her—she was amazed she hadn't broken down entirely. The villagers had jeered at her, and called her every foul name they knew. And in a village so close to the docks, where Hunters constantly passed through on their way to the Forest of Silence—they knew a lot.

Carrie had felt the burning humiliation of it all; though she supposed if she actually liked the villagers it would be a lot of worse. At least she didn't see their faces thanks to being blindfolded. She knew the Church clerics were watching as well. While they didn't jeer and curse her—no, they're too "religious", Carrie thought sardonically—she knew they felt just as much pleasure in watching her be condemned.

And so now here she was, lying on the ground, blinded, gagged and bound. Roughly, a hand shot out and pulled her head back by the hair. Her eyes watered in pain as each of her hairs felt as though it was being ripped from her head. A blade was pressed against the throat.

"Should we kill 'er now?" a lout asked. No! She heard the clanking of metal that stopped near her. A disgustingly familiar voice barked out,

"No—not yet, you fool. The Witch should at least be given the chance to repent before she dies." Carrie recognized the powerful voice. Sir Samuel…the bastard…the man continued on, "and a Church man like yourself ought to know that you don't slay a Witch by the blade." Carrie felt a horrible gut-wrenching pain inside of her as screams pierced through her head.

"Witch!"

"Burn her!"

"Push her back in the fire! She's escaping!"

"Pray for mercy from the Lord, you evil wench!"

Memories of previous burnings she had attended came rushing back. She shuddered internally as screams of women being cast aflame rattled unbearably inside of her. They too had been accused of witchcraft and died at the stake after a trial. Carrie knew—she had been there. Ada, Henry and Cornell had all tried to protect her, shield her from the truth. It's not like it matter's now…Not a single one was here.

The Villagers were so cruel…those women did nothing, and now I'm going to die too…Carrie felt frightened tears forming. Only difference is…I am a Witch…do I deserve it? Thankfully, no one could see her tears because of the thick cloth that was wrapped around her eyes. A sudden voice brought her out of her bleak thoughts.

"Miss Carrie Fernandez!" Sir Samuel's voice barked. "You hereby stand accused of the following crimes; Devil-worshipping, illness-spreading, devastating crops…" he continued on with a list of absurd crimes Carrie had never even known the Villagers held against her. What is wrong with these people? I barely even come to the village itself anymore! Carrie tuned out the hate-filled accusations.

That was, until the last one.

"…and most recently, the attempted murder of my son, Brian Clayton, and the murder of the orphan boy, Nicholas," Sir Samuel finished, sounding furious. The Villagers—whom Carrie assumed had gathered around for her "trial"—roared in anger. It was nothing, though, compared to the feeling of rage inside of the young woman.

The murder of Nicholas? I would never…I did not…the bastards…Carrie struggled to speak, but it was an impossible feat to accomplish with the gag in her mouth and a band wrapped securely around her mouth. And it didn't just stop her from speaking—it tasted gritty as well. She had no idea whose it was.

Unfortunately, the rag didn't block out that bloody tiny voice in her head. But you did, it whispered accusingly. You should've been faster…

no…I tried…

but it wasn't enough…the voice argued.

Carrie silenced it as best she could. She heard Sir Samuel's voice continue.

"Now Witch,"—Carrie hated that term, Witch, like she didn't have a name or something—"you can clearly hear that the entire Village has unanimously deemed you guilty." The Village roared again in response. Carrie continued to curse them mentally.

"So we must deliver your punishment. But first, we shall permit you a chance to confess. Once you've done so, you will be able to repent for your sins." What sins? I have never hurt any of these people before…But then, these people had forever hated her. Still though…as much as they despised me they've never gone this far before…

…but here she was now, about to be burned. And most likely because of the Bishop's proclamation, people were on edge…burning witches and accusing the most innocent of people with helping the Rebirth. Thinking back, she remembered Cornell had warned her over and over again to be extra careful with her powers lately. Damn…it's not my fault though…the children would've died…

Carrie again felt a hand grab her head by the hair. A blade was raised again—oh no, they're going to forget the repent—but this time Carrie felt it slice through the band around her mouth. The person wasn't too careful though; she felt a gash on her cheek where the band had been cut. As soon as it was off, Carrie spat out the gag. Nasty… Tongue curling at the disgusting taste in her mouth, she swore under her breath as she heard Sir Samuel step closer to her. The roaring had stopped. All was silent as the knight approached the accused.

"Witch," he said in a carrying voice. "Are you willing to repent right now?"

He wants me to confess; to give in. Carrie supposed the smart thing to have done would have been to simply confess, right then and there. At least she would redeem herself slightly in the eyes of the Winde Villagers, if she repented. She could—but she had learned not to care about what these fools thought of her.

She couldn't see Sir Samuel's face, but she knew it was probably contorted in fury. Carrie kept her silence. He leaned in closer.

"You may as well now, you'll have to in the end," he seethed. Carrie scowled as much as she could without her eyes.

"No," she hissed. A sharp blow smacked her face. She toppled over, and landed sideways on the ground. She tasted blood in her mouth and dripping down her face. Struggling to her feet with no hands, she stood erect once more. She felt someone step closer.

"Are you going to confess now?" Sir Samuel snarled. Carrie held her tongue. I don't speak to trash like…you…

The rain was drizzling down lightly, washing away some of the blood. In response to her silence, Sir Samuel struck her again, this time on the other side of her face. Carrie was starting to feel light-headed—she'd be damned if she let him know though. She strained to get back to her feet. Using her magic had already worn her out, and being beaten wasn't helping. If I could just see the bastard…he'd be long gone…

"Just confess, Witch! We'll burn you anyways—it is the only way to cleanse a soul of such heinous crimes!" Carrie was finding it harder not to say anything. But she heard the fury in Sir Samuel's voice, making it all worthwhile. Sir Samuel didn't seem to think so.

This time he backhanded her. Carrie doubled over but refused to collapse, stars blinking in the darkness that covered her eyes. Her head was throbbing like hell. Her pride wouldn't let her cry out though, or say anything for that matter.

The villagers had gotten restless again and they began fouling names at her.

"Forget the repent!" a woman's voice cried. "Just get on with on the burning!"

"Burn the ungrateful wench!" voices agreed. Anger surged within Carrie. She felt rough hands grab her by the arms and drag her upright. Shoving her along, she tripped when she reached a large pile. While on her knees, it dawned on her; lumber…dammit all…I'm going to die…Carrie's anger was the only thing holding back her tears of fear. Cornell…Ada…Henry…where are you? It was a burning. No trial, just on with the burning. And they weren't there to protect her this time.

It's not fair… I didn't ask for this…

She felt the same hands push her towards the center of the pile. As she stumbled over the log lying in the way, Sir Samuel began speaking again.

"Well, Witch, we always knew this day would come," he gloated. The crowd, which had gathered in what sounded like the front of the stake, agreed. Loudly. "I mean, ever since you arrived at the Orphanage…we knew you were evil. A Satan-worshipper, a freak… you've been befouling our village since the day you were born. But then—I suppose it's not entirely you're fault," he added. "It must be in your blood—your mother was a filthy whore of a witch."

Carrie was too angry to form words. Ugh, don't you dare insult my mother…she could just hear the smirk in Sir Samuel's voice. He was closer to her now—she could sense it.

They had come to a stop, and Carrie was assuming they were in front of the stake. She kept her mouth shut—more out of fury than anything else—but her mind was boiling. Bastard…nothing you say is true. It can't be. The same horrible traitor voice, in the back of her mind, reminded her that she knew next to nothing of her lineage.

Shut up, she seethed at it. I know enough from Cornell.

Carrie felt Sir Samuel's overpowering presence nearby as he began to bind her to the stake. She fought to control a shudder as she felt his fingers trace her arm while he was leaning in behind her—seconds before he gave the yanked the rope, causing them to burn her skin.

"Burn her before the logs are too wet to light!" A voice from the crowd cried. The rain was lightly soaking everyone, making the already excited crowd to go into frenzy. As the rain came down and dampened Carrie, she felt her simple clothes and blue hair sag.

Why is this happening to me? Why? This can't be happening…this can't…

Sir Samuel took advantage of the moment to whisper mockingly for her ears alone,

"And no one is here to save you," he began, picking up on her darkest thoughts. "No Henry, no Ada, no damned Captain Cornell. Wonder if he'll be too upset to work if you're dead?" Carrie's fists tightened to a point where her nails were digging little crescents into her palm. Despite the exhaustion she felt she willed her power to come to her.

Oh God—why can't I feel it? Panic was beginning to overwhelm her.

"Cornell will be more than a little upset you fool," she hissed contemptuously, unable to keep her silence even longer. She actually was embracing the anger rushing towards her again. It was a welcome feeling next to the despair that had taken over her. "He'll hunt you down like a dog until you've paid for what you've done."

Sir Samuel seemed to have taken over the duty of tying her up all together. He stood uncomfortably close behind her, leaning in so that his warm, heavy breath tickled her, sending disturbed quivers down her spine. Carrie could feel him give the cord a particularly hard tug. The binds were already cutting into her wrists.

Going in an inch closer, Carrie felt him lean over and place his lips against the moist skin of her neck, mouth parted slightly. Slowly he pulled away by a fraction of an inch, and moved his head upwards. She felt his warm breath running along her neck as he slowly breathed in the scent of her.

Then—as if that wasn't utterly disgusting—she felt his hot, wet tongue give the slightest of caresses to her frozen earlobe.

Don't touch me! She thought vehemently, too revolted to speak.

An involuntary shudder overtook her; but she still attempted to gather her power into her hands. Nothing came. She also noticed for the first time that her Pendant had begun to burn dully.

She heard Sir Samuel laugh softly as she shuddered again. Again she felt his gauntleted fingers trail her arms tauntingly, causing goose bumps to erupt on her flesh. He was no doubt enjoying every moment she squirmed.

Damned villagers…why the hell must they be so caught up in hating me? She scowled. Not one had noticed his subtle, provocative actions. And it wasn't just anger she felt—there was the horrible, overpowering feeling of terror taking over.

Struggle as she may, she just couldn't draw enough strength to summon her power. Don't touch me; she repeated again, this time more desperate than angry. He was the one with all the power, right now.

And he knew that.

"You foolish girl," he whispered viciously into her ear, "Cornell is the dog. You don't know anything about his past, do you?" Carrie tensed against the stake. Chuckling softly at her reaction, he pulled away, and finished tying her up.

Moving in front of her—she suspected so that his back was to the crowd—she heard the rustling sound of him raising his arms in the act of securing the binds. But in a disgustingly gentle manner though, he pushed her spiky blue bangs away from her face. She felt his hands cup her face, and his gauntleted thumbs brush away her tears in a mock-loving fashion and stroke her skin. His movements were unnecessarily elaborate; he pressed hard against the bruises and cuts on her face.

Despite her pride, her anger, her magic—Carrie was deathly afraid.

And she was horribly ashamed of herself for being so.

She was powerless to help herself. How could I have ever let myself become so vulnerable? Samuel dropped his hand and instead tugged on the Blue Crescent Moon Pendant that hung from her neck. Using his other hand, he tilted her head upwards. Very softy, he whispered,

"Scared without him here?" Fingers ran mockingly over the glowing ornament—Carrie could sense it. Yes, a small voice whispered truthfully in her mind. A stronger voice added, but like hell you're going to know. The Pendant was reacting with her, glowing as her fury and fear rose.

Carrie had had enough—even if she didn't have her powers.

"What would you know?" Carrie goaded, masking her fear. She knew how to hit a nerve with the man. Her temper was flaring up so fast; it was surprising she even managed to contain it. "A man like you will only ever be second best to Cornell."

His strike happened so fast that she barely had time to feel it. But her jaw was throbbing like hell afterwards—proof that it had indeed happened. Damn gauntlets, they were built for striking people's faces. The villagers had actually noticed that last smack.

And they were laughing—but Carrie didn't hear it.

Anger churned inside of her, taking over every sense she possessed.

"Burn in hell," Sir Samuel growled wrathfully. She heard the knight shift in front of her and the sound of a match being lit. "Witch."

Carrie tensed, preparing herself for the match to drop. She waited for the fire to rise from the timber, embracing her. Bloody hell…I don't want

Thump.

Carrie started as she felt a strong vibration ripple through the palisade, starting from the back. She heard Sir Samuel curse as he leaned around her to check.

"Dammit! Who threw that?" Carrie had no idea what Sir Samuel was talking about, but she took advantage of the momentary lapse in attention.

I'm not going to die at your hands.

The cords felt like mere threads against her skin. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that whatever had been thrown at the stake had torn through the ropes binding her. Wrenching herself away from the post, she felt the lumber crack. She blindly threw herself forwards; just as she felt the log roll past her. Connecting with something hard, she realized she had knocked the startled Sir Samuel out of the way.

The binds tying her hands too had been threaded. Stumbling blindly, she found the stone path that went through the whole village. As she raced forwards, she tugged off the blindfold off from around her eyes.

Bloody hell! The sharp light hit her eyes hard. Praying her feet would take her somewhere safe, she ran. Dammit, I won't let them kill me! The villagers were chasing after her.

"We can't let her escape!"

"She'll eat our children!"

"She's going to rejoin her Master!"

As much as the words fueled the villagers, they helped Carrie. Like hell they'll get me again! Pushing herself to the maximum speed, she dodged between houses and shops. It seemed the entire village had shown up for her burning; not a soul was in a building.

Someone…help! An overwhelming feeling of desperation came about her. She had no one, and these villagers were hunting her down, resolute on watching her die.

She could hear the furious yells echo throughout the entire village, scaring the few birds still out and frightening her as well. The rain was pouring now, and her long bangs were falling into her eyes. Shaking her head, she felt droplets of water freeing themselves from her. With tears streaming down her face, the girl could barely see; though she didn't dare stop.

You can't die, you can't die…repeating the maxim over and over to herself, she continued racing forwards, ducked low so no one could see her.

Her vision was blurring around her; noises became muffled. Breath rattled in her lungs and her head pounded horribly. Every inch of her body was engulfed in weariness—darkness bordered the edges of her consciousness. Pushing it aside though, she carried on.


Cornell's heart was in his throat. It had been a long time since he'd been this afraid. Carrie, oh God, Carrie, please be okay. One would think there wasn't a need to worry; Cornell could feel the Blue Crescent Moon Pendant burning fiercely, meaning Carrie was still alive. But alive can still mean barely… In the process of being burned to death, being tortured into confession and repent…there was any number of things that made death seem a relief. And I have no way of predicting when the Pendant will stop.

He did however, notice that the feeling of the Pendant burned stronger when he was in certain areas; weaker in others. He could sense it purely because he had been the one to give it to Carrie when she was young—but before that; it had been his to represent his other self.

She must be running.

Two equally powerful emotions flooded through him. Relief because he realized she had escaped—dread because he knew the village, particularly Samuel Clayton, the one in charge of her burning, would not take that well. Increasing his efforts, he used the varying strength of the Pendant to track her. Cursing, he ducked through various shops and houses, attempting to catch on to Carrie's trail.

As he neared the forest, a powerful scorching sensation tore through him. Though it only lasted briefly, Cornell knew he was closing in on the girl.


Dimly she realized that she had gained distance between herself and the villagers; their cries were getting fainter. Tripping on a fallen branch, Carrie landed hard on the ground.

"Damn!" She cried out, instantly cursing herself. Anyone could hear me…Mud and dirt soaked through her white skirt and to her freezing body. But she merely kicked the branch away and staggered upwards. Throwing a hand on her face, she brushed away tears from her face. You can't die at their hands…you can't let them…

Taking a swerve around a large tree, she felt someone grab her from behind.

"NO! Get away from me!" she burst out. Her captor had a firm hold on her though, and didn't seem keen to let her go. With a tug, they attempted to pull Carrie towards them. I am going to die…

Struggling in the person's arms, she whipped around to strike her captor.

"Let me go!" she cried out. "Don't—" The person's voice interrupted her,

"What are you—" The last of the magic had left her, and she couldn't summon the energy to bring it out again.

That didn't mean that she wasn't willing to put up a fight though. Flailing her hand out, she struck them in the chest.

Hard.

"Ow! Carrie! Stop that!" a male voice cried. She wasn't in a mood to listen though. Wrenching herself free, she continued forwards, staggering. But the man—oh God, it better not be Clayton—still had a hold of her forearm.

With strength much greater than her own, the person dragged her back. Fresh tears were welling up in her eyes. I am going to die; I am going to die…

"Leave me—" A hand muffled her panicked shriek. The other arm had wrapped itself around her waist, securing her arms to her sides. Carrie attempted to throw her weight forwards, but to no avail. The man countered by leaning back with his own. Dammit all, I don't want to die…

Turning the trembling girl into his chest, the man enclosed Carrie in a comforting hug.

"Carrie," a patriarchal voice soothed, running a hand over her blue hair. "It's just me." A powerful wave of relief and exhaustion enveloped her once she recognized the voice, and finally, giving up the fight, she succumbed to the darkness.


A/N: Yay… keep a-readin'. ;)