I do not own Soul Eater world and it belongs to its respective owner.


The purple-tinted sky serves background to the large portal opening up to the desolate world known as the witch's realm. The few witches that step through the portal do so depressingly, as they know why this meeting has been called to order.

A couple witches sigh at the sight of the Witch's castle, for they know that the buildings that were once just old have transitioned to decrepit in the past 3 years-a sign of the witches' declining power.

They enter; half worried that the buildings will collapse upon them at any moment.

The visiting witches shuffle into the meeting room, holding the smallest Witch Mass yet, noting that the stone interior has received a few more large cracks.

They look up at the crumbling symbol of their people; the bent in cross has lost one of its arms, and the already present cracks have only become wider.

Once the stragglers from the entrance portal arrive and take their places; Mabaa takes her position beneath the center of the inward bent cross.

Her black robe is peculiar in that several bobby pins hang off, and it completely hides her face, except for a piercing eye peeking out over the collar. Mabaa's gray witch hat likens to a jack o' lantern; the eyes glow a deep red and a black void absorbs the observer between a set of jagged teeth.

"Welcome witches; we come together today to discuss our dire situation… as many of you know, our numbers are beginning to dwindle," Mabaa starts on a solemn note.

The remaining few witches nod; they look around, remembering the once many eager faces.

Now, many hide behind their hoods, fearing that they too will fall victim to the voracious beasts that are the Demon weapons of the Death Weapon Meister Academy.

Sensing the dread among her subjects, she continues, "Fear not, I have a plan to destroy that accursed school and all those who associate with it, however; I want to know if any of you have any ideas to help our plight."

A witch standing near the back wearing a jacket, which has a pastel pink body and pastel yellow sleeves and hood; the hood has short antler constructions jutting from the top. Keeping with the pastel theme; she wears pastel purple boots.

Shifting her weight from foot to foot; she contemplates a way to help out Mabaa's plan.

She finally comes up with an idea, "Mabaa, how about we try to find Crona and the Ragnarok?"

"I have weighed in on that idea Neoma, and have decided that it would require too many resources to attempt to find him," Mabaa replies, shooting down her suggestion.

"How about we become friends with them?" an abnormally cheery voice suggests from beside Mabaa.

This idea manages to cause many of the hiding witches to glare their eyes out at the owner of the voice, being an unusually dressed witch, directly to the side of Mabaa.

Quickly realizing the owner; they quickly retreat back into their hoods.

The girl's blonde hair contrasts with her azure eyes, and she stands out like a sore thumb among her fellow witches, as she refuses to wear a hood or the gloomy attire of her magical compatriots. She instead wears a dress that goes down to her knees, divided down the middle into white on the left side and black on the right. Her shoes follow a similar pattern, being black sneakers with white laces.

Mabaa slowly floats down next to her adopted daughter… and slaps her on the back of the head with enough force to displace her daughter's black headband.

The locket around her neck opens up before emitting a blinding light, and she transforms, shifting the color scheme of her clothing and hairband to the opposite color.

"I really do need to make Jewel's transformation a little less… obvious," Mabaa thinks, making a mental note for later before returning to her position within the bent cross.

"I have an idea! Let's slaughter them all!" Jewel blurts out, no less cheery than before.

"That's better," Mabaa acknowledges.

"Well, Jewel, my dear, we need a plan to do that, so does anyone else have any ideas?"

"Maybe we could capture all of these evil humans running around lately and unleash them in Death City?" a witch leaning against one of the cracked columns suggests.

"That is very close to what I'm thinking, and right now we're thinking about ways to improve that plan," Mabaa retorts.

"Well, in that case; I guess I could share a bit of information I've gathered," A witch near the center of the witches concedes.

She is wearing something akin to modern ball room dance attire-an ankle length blue dress with forearm-covering white gloves and high-heeled combat boots. Her light blue hair is tied up into a ponytail with a golden ribbon; the bangs of her hair cover half of her hetero-chromatic eyes; the left one being celestial blue and the right malachite green.

"Well; while I was traveling; I saw the Spartoi students having a meeting of some sort outside of the DWMA; they were unsupervised, so we could ambush them there and capture or kill them," she proposes.

"Ah... that's very interesting information Luna; those students are the best in the school, and taking them out before assaulting Death City would be a great blow to their fighting capabilities," Mabaa utters, incorporating this information in her head, "thank you Luna, once we start putting this plan into motion; I'll need you to show us where that location is."

"Anymore information that would assist in the planning?" Mabaa inquires; she wants to know if any of the witches have made contact with the new Demon Sword wielder.

"I have found a prospective resource milady," a woman clad in a rust red robe announces.

"Oh? What is this resource Tanith?" Mabaa questions, curious to see if this resource is something else entirely.

"I've observed a new Demon Sword wielder, who has the ability to infuse black blood into beings and turn them into insane Evil Humans," many of the witches in the room gasp at this revelation, "however; the wielder appears to be comatose, and is directed by two monstrous beings formed from the weapon."

"Good, so someone has found her; the wielder is integral to our plans, and so we will soon set up a mission to capture this wielder," Mabaa dictates.

"It is imperative that none of you tip off the DWMA about our plans, so for now, I am declaring a state of martial witch law," Mabaa announces, "for those of you new here, that means you are unable to leave this realm until further notice."

Some of the witches groan as Mabaa declares the martial law, knowing that they are going to have to sleep on the ancient bunks present in the back building.

"Joma Joma Dabarasa," Mabaa declares, indicating the end of the gathering.

Shortly, the other witches reply back begrudgingly with the same phrase and begin to disperse into the neighboring buildings.

While many of the witches opt for the dining hall and living quarters, Zilla exits the building to sit underneath a decaying Willow tree perched on a hill just a short walk away. The glow of the moon only serves to make her skin seem even paler.

Zilla appears to be in her mid-twenties, and is about five foot eight, while also being incredibly thin. She wears a black robe that is held up at the shoulders, since there is a huge U cut out of the fabric in the front, going down past her navel by two inches and exposing the inside of her breasts. Fingerless black evening gloves that have a band in between her index and middle finger cover her forearms and biceps. Zilla's glossy midnight black hair is cut in a long pixie fashion, parted straight down the center. Her thin bangs are parted to cover her temples, come over a bone headpiece that bends out horizontally like antlers, and reach her collarbone.

The most striking feature of Zilla is the black ochre she spreads across her eyes and the bridge of her nose in a rectangular area, so that when she does open her eyes; they contrast eerily with the ochre.

Just as Zilla reaches the willow tree she senses the soul wavelength of another witch behind her. She does not address this other individual until she sits down underneath the drooping branches of the willow tree.

She now hears the footsteps of the other individual, who she senses to have stopped nearby.

"M-miss Zilla; I was wonderin-" the young witch stutters out.

"Young one; I cannot see, and I do not partake in the affairs of other witches, so I ask that you give me your name before you ask me about matters," Zilla interjects.

The girl is shaken by the interruption, but she gulps and answers, "Parisa Lily ma'am."

"I see," Zilla reacts, sensing the nervousness in her voice and Parisa's timid soul; she gestures for Parisa to sit next to her.

Parisa obeys and sits down next to Zilla, still a bit nervous, but not as much as before.

"What do you wish to ask, Parisa?" Zilla questions.

Before Parisa can answer, Zilla senses another being rushing toward their location; however, it is not a witch.

"Parisa, what is this presence I'm sensing?" Zilla presses.

"Oh, her? That's Nixie, she's my fairy," Parisa answers.

"A fairy? What a strange creature for a young witch to have for servitude," Zilla states.

"She's not my slave! We're friends…" Parisa explains, hurt by Zilla's assumption.

"I apologize, how'd you end up becoming friends with her?" Zilla asks, curiosity piqued by the prospect of learning about a magical assistant.

Unfortunately, the question dredges up many bad memories for Parisa, visibly dropping her mood.

Zilla picks up on the shift in her soul wavelength but not Parisa's visual cues, "I guess I am not suited for conversing; I apologize, now, what did you want to ask of me?"

"I-it's alright Ms. Ratri; I was wondering if you could help me with my magic," Parisa requests with tinges of sadness.

"Ah… I fear that I am unable to teach you right now; I must begin my nightly rituals, however, you could ask Tanith or Seraphina; they are what some call… spunky," Zilla suggests.

Parisa rises, "thank you Ms. Ratri; I'll go talk to them now."

"It was my pleasure young one," Zilla expresses with a smile.

Parisa makes her way back to the main building; her dull yellow glowing friend flying in tow.

"Now, where would Seraphina be?" Parisa ponders.

A loud crash and, "Too easy! A one star meister could have easily killed you all by themselves!" answers Parisa's thoughts.

Parisa enters to see the fiery Seraphina standing over a disgruntled witch, who is laid out flat on her back.

"Come on! Can anyone here give me a least a little bit of a challenge?" Seraphina shouts out, and she receives only silence and staring, "fine, but you remember this, one day the DWMA is going to learn how to nullify our magic, and you all won't even be able to fight back physically."

All of the witches in the room, including Seraphina's opponent, quickly retreat out of the room, which leaves Parisa and Seraphina alone.