NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR OF THE INSANE: Jalapeña, this chapter took forever!

Since City of Stone is taken up mostly by flashbacks (seriously, about 70% of all four episodes were flashbacks), I had to do some major editing to make it flow better. Thus, this is a stand-alone chapter that contains the entire story of Macbeth and Demona

ENJOY!

Willow flew through the night sky, delighting in the feel of the wind through her hair. Despite having been a gargoyle for nearly three months, gliding across the wind currents was still an activity that thrilled her to no end. Around her neck, a Bluetooth set she always wore began to buzz. Inserting the attached earpiece, she answered the call.

"Gargoyle hotline." She greeted. "Willow speaking."

"Willow." Brooklyn's voice replied. "We're gonna be running late tonight. There's this hostage situation at bank off 6th street. Elisa needs our help to get everyone to safety."

"Do you need me to make a detour?" Willow asked.

"We've got this." Brooklyn replied. "You've been wanting to check out that new bookstore for days now. Get yourself a new book or something, we'll handle the bank."

"You got it." Willow told him. "Just don't end up on the 11 o'clock news."

Brooklyn chuckled, then hung up. Willow switched off her Bluetooth, then gently dove down into a nearby alleyway. There, she closed her eyes as green electricity coursed through her, returning her to her human form. After smoothing out her hair, she slipped out of the alleyway towards Avalon Booksellers, a small bookshop down the way. As Willow approached the shop, she could hear a voice coming from inside. A rather angry, insistent voice.

"I won't tell you again! Open up the register and give me the cash!"

Willow leaned against the wall of the shop, carefully peering through the window. From her view, she could see a single robber holding three almost identical women at gunpoint. Willow's eyes narrowed at the sight, recognizing the robber. She had helped the gargoyles scare him away from Old Man Wilkin's store almost a year ago.

"Him again?" Willow muttered. "I thought he'd straightened out."

Knowing the gargoyles were busy and feeling confident in her own ability, Willow came out of hiding and walked into the store. At the sound of the bell, the robber turned angrily towards the door. However, when he saw Willow, he went pale.

"Hello again." She told him. "Didn't my friends and I warn you of the consequences of harming innocent people?"

The robber didn't reply. Instead, he shakily pointed his gun right at Willow while scanning the darkness for the gargoyles. When he didn't see any, he started laughing nervously.

"It seems to me that your friends aren't here." He jeered.

Willow just smirked, green sparks in her eyes.

"That's because I'm enough to deal with you." She replied.

The green lightning returned as Willow returned to her gargoyle form. The robber went paler then before, the gun clattering to the ground.

"Now, go turn yourself in again." Willow ordered him. "Or would you prefer I sharpen my claws on your face?"

The guy scrambled out of the store, screaming like a three year old girl every step of the way. Willow watched him go with a triumphant smirk as she returned to her human form. It was then that the three women approached her. They were completely identical in height, weight, and appearance. The only way to tell them apart was their different colored hair. One had white hair, the other was blonde, and the third had black hair. For a moment, Willow feared that they would turn on her because of what she did, but instead, they all seemed to be slightly smiling.

"Thank you for your assistance." The blonde, whose nametag read Phoebe, said.

"You were very brave, and very noble." The white-haired one, whose nametag read Luna, added.

"There are few who would spare men like him." The black haired one, whose nametag read Seline, concluded.

Willow blinked for a moment, surprised they were not bombarding her with questions about her turning into a gargoyle. Eventually, she just shrugged.

"My friends and I have dealt with him before." She explained. "Besides, I've faced off against enemies a lot worse than him for about a year now."

The three women accepted this, then gestured for her to follow them.

"We have been plagued by thieves since our arrival here." Phoebe explained.

"You were the first to offer assistance." Luna added.

"Please allow us to show our gratitude." Seline asked.

They approached a small bookshelf along the back wall of the store. On it were many leather bound, hardback books. Luna picked out one, a dark colored book with a Scottish family crest on the cover. It was entitled, "The Timeless Bond: The True Tragedy of Macbeth". She then held it out to Willow, who took it with surprise.

"Are you sure you want me to have this?" She asked, looking at the book in surprise.

"Take it with our blessing." The three of them told her in unison.

Willow looked at the book again, determined to protest. She wanted to tell them that it wasn't necessary. However, something about the book made her pause. It was as if she was supposed to have it, as if she needed to have it.

"Thank you." She finally said, her eyes never leaving the cover.

As she walked out of the store, the three woman all smiled at each other.

"The Child of Two Worlds is now prepared." Luna announced.

"Now her companions must be warned." Phoebe added.

"For tonight is where our journey comes to a close." Seline concluded.

A strange, silver mist swirled around the three women as they disappeared.

Willow got back to the tower before the Gargoyles did. The second her feet touched the ground, she transformed back into her human form, making a bee-line for her bed. She curled up under her covers, eager to read her new book. As she opened the front cover, the book seemed to glow with a silvery light. Audible only to her, she heard the voices of the three women from the shop.

"The Tale of Macbeth is known to all,
Of a King's great rise, and tragic fall.
But few know the truth of his cursed fate.
And of his eternal, burning hate.
And now, unto you, the tale is told.
Of an ancient king, and his demon of old.
"

The light struck Willow, flowing into her eyes and causing them to glow. Then, as quickly as it began, it stopped. The light faded and Willow's eyes closed, slumping into unconsciousness on her bed with the book still open on her chest.

Scotland, 994 AD.

Goliath unwrapped a bandage from around his left claw, smiling as he saw the wound the Viking Hakon had given him the night before was gone. As he flexed his claw, his beloved mate and his human ally, The Captain of the Guard, watched him.

"Those Vikings may return at daybreak, Goliath." The Captain insisted. "I say take all your gargoyles and see that they're gone."

"I agree." His beloved angel interjected. "Let us go out in force and put an end to these pigs once and for all."

Goliath mulled it over, but shook his head.

"Too dangerous." He told them. "I don't want to leave the castle unprotected."

"But their leader swore he'd be back." The Captain argued. "It's best to hurry them away now, and not take that chance."

Goliath sighed, seeing the wisdom behind this plan.

"Very well." He relented. "But I shall do it."

With a smile, he stretched his wings, preparing to take off.

"I can scare those cowards away without any help." He boasted lightly.

Before he could take to the sky, his beloved grabbed his arm, a desperate look in her eye.

"That is too dangerous for you!" she pleaded. "Let me come along at least!"

"No." Goliath replied, turning to her and taking her hand. "You and the others will stay here at the castle. You are my best warrior. I leave you in command."

She pulled her hand free, a desperate look in her eye.

"No!" she practically screamed. "I cannot let you!"

"I won't go alone." He promised. "Our mentor will accompany me."

He hugged her close, trying to quiet her fears.

"Remember, you and I are one." He reminded her. "Now and forever."

His beloved looked up at him sadly, but said nothing as he turned away. Though she reached for him as he prepared to take off, she did not stop him. As Goliath disappeared from sight, her sadness turned to anger.

"This ruins everything!" she exclaimed. "The plan was to have all the gargoyles away during the attack so we could return to reclaim an empty castle!"

The Captain approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to calm her anger.

"The plan can still work." He insisted. "I can still tell Hakon to come at sunrise. He'll take all of the humans from the castle. Wyvern Hill will be yours ag-"

She cut him off by grabbing the front of his cloak, dragging him forward.

"You fool!" she snarled. "Have you forgotten that we gargoyles are stone during the day?! We'll be helpless to defend ourselves!"

She threw him to the ground in disgust. The Captain didn't seemed fazed as he got back up, straightening his cloak.

"Not while I'm about." The Captain insisted, "I swear I'll keep your clan safe."

She was reluctant to place the lives of her clan in the hands of the Captain, but seeing little choice, she begrudgingly agreed.

As sunrise began to fast approach, she found that she could not stand by her decision to trust the Captain to protect her clan. Knowing it was too late to go back on the plan, she instead attempted to warn at least some of her Rookery siblings. Unfortunately, she was too late to do even that. In the ever brightening twilight sky, she could see the Vikings beginning to approach, their weapons drawn and malicious grins on their ugly faces.

Sadly, she turned away from her clan, taking flight away from the castle, seeking refuge beneath the cliff as the sun rose. As her body turned to stone, she could hear the Vikings beginning their assault, a tear coming to her eye at the thought of her helpless clan.

Up above in the castle, the Vikings charged on the defenseless castle. The guards tried to fight back, but the Vikings outnumbered them ten to one. They fell in droves as the helpless villagers were all rounded up. The Captain of the Guard aided in the assault, personally capturing the Princess. In the end, she, the Magus and all the survivors were led away from the castle, Hakon and the Captain lording over it all.

"Not that I'm ungrateful for your help, but why?" Hakon suddenly asked, turning to the Captain curiously. "Why betray your own kind?"

The Captain looked down at the captives bitterly, his eyes narrowing.

"They're not my kind." He replied.

Hakon shrugged, drawing a mace from his belt.

"Well, to work." He declared, glancing up at the setting sun. "There's little enough time for it."

The Captain went wide-eyed, grabbing Hakon's wrist before he could bring it down on one of the still petrified gargoyles.

"This is unnecessary." He insisted.

"Are you mad?" Hakon snapped, looking at the Captain as if he was. "In a moment they'll be flesh again and my men will be their prey."

"Once your band is out of sight, they won't follow." The Captain insisted. "It's not their nature."

"Ah, well." Hakon let out. "In that case."

He then elbowed the Captain hard in the gut, sending him tumbling down to the ground. He fell with a grunt, the air knocked out of him. Before he could recover, Hakon put his boot on his chest, holding the mace up menacingly.

"Care to discuss the matter further?" He threatened.

The Captain looked at Hakon, then at the gargoyles. He then closed his eyes, turning away remorsefully.

"No." he answered.

"Good." Hakon replied, releasing the Captain before turning back to the gargoyles. "I haven't lived this long by taking foolish chances."

He lifted the mace once again, bringing it down on the gargoyle. The Captain turned away, flinching with every blow that was delivered.

The female awoke from her stone sleep, immediately looking up at the castle. From the smoke emanating from it, she knew that the plan had worked.

"Yes." She grinned. "At last my clan is free of human rule!"

She scaled the cliff as quickly as she could, eager to lay eyes on her new, human-free home. However, as she finally reached the top of the castle, she was confused by what she saw. The castle was empty, free of humans, but gargoyles as well. As she continued looking around, she felt a cold fear beginning to manifest in her heart.

"Brothers?" she called. "Sisters?"

Her foot hit a small piece of rubble. In annoyance, she went to toss it away, but that's when she noticed something. The rock was the stone face of one of her clan members. In horror, she dropped it, looking around frantically. As she did, she finally noticed all of the small piles of rubble where her clan members had once roosted.

A crushing sorrow took hold of her as she fell to her knees, screaming in pain and anguish. Then the tears began to fall. She would have stayed there, crying over her fallen brethren, had a shadow not passed over her. Looking up, she saw the silhouette of Goliath and his mentor approaching the tallest tower.

"Goliath?" she whispered.

She watched them land on the tower, kneeling down at the sight off all of their fallen comrades. Ashamed at the part she played in this tragedy, she fled from the castle, unable to face him just yet.

"I'll return later." She planned. "I'll tell him… I was out looking for him. He'll be so pleased to see me alive!"

She did indeed return later, but when she did, another tragedy had struck. Along the tallest tower of the castle, she could see the stone statues of five of her comrades. Confusion struck her as she approached.

"Stone?" she questioned. "At night? How can this be?"

As she looked up, her tears threatened to return as she spotted Goliath's stone form.

"Goliath… no…"

She fell to her knees once more.

"What have I-?"

Before she could finish that sentence, she remembered the Captain's broken promise. She remembered the hatred the humans had shown her and her clan, and then her thoughts turned to the Magus. She knew he had the power to do this to her clan. With these thoughts, her sadness turned to bitterness and hatred.

"What have they done to you?!"

The sounds of a neighing horse pulled her out of her hatred. Curious, and slightly afraid someone was coming to smash her only remaining clan members, she approached the edge of the battlements to see Magus and Princess Katharine loading the gargoyle eggs from the Rookerie into a wagon. A young boy, one that she remembered had tried to befriend some of the younger members of her clan, closed the back of the wagon, climbing in with the eggs as it rolled away from the castle.

She gasped as the wagon with the eggs slowly disappeared from sight. She wanted to go after them, to reclaim that which belonged to her clan, but she knew that she alone could not protect them. Reluctantly, she turned away, scaling the tall tower until she was beside Goliath's statue.

"Goodbye, my love…" she whispered, kissing his stone cold lips.

A light rain began to fall as she turned away from the castle, flying off into the night. She couldn't see it, but as the rain fell over the statues of her fallen friends, they almost appeared like tears.

On a small farm, not too far from the remains of Castle Wyvern, a young farm boy named Gillecomgain was about to do his nightly chores. He hated life on the farm, and his seemingly endless streams of chores his father and mother could come up with for him. As he walked sullenly towards the stables to start his chores, he could hear the horses inside screaming and whinnying like a monster was in there with them.

"What the devil-?" he let out.

Thinking fast, Gillecomgain ran to the door of the stable, taking hold of a pitchfork sticking out of nearby haystack. Taking a deep breath, he threw the doors to the stables open, holding out the pitchfork like a spear.

"Alright!" he called. "Whatever you are, get out of here!"

All of a sudden, the female gargoyle came out of the shadows, raking Gillecomgain across the face. He fell, dropping the pitchfork as blood poured from in between his fingers. The female gargoyle snarled at him, kicking him aside as she snatched a sack of apples from beside the stable door. Gillecomgain struggled to his feet, watching the female gargoyle disappear into the night.

"You'll pay for that… you monster!" he swore.

Twenty six years later, the female gargoyle had managed to build herself a new clan, with her as the leader. Unlike while she was with the Wyvern Clan, she followed a different set of rules. They did not protect humans, they did not trust humans, and above all, they fought humans and stole from them every chance they got. In one village that was almost constantly plagued by the clan of gargoyles, a group of soldiers stood watch over the food storage, their eyes trained on the sky.

"Perhaps they won't come this night." One dared to hope.

A howl in the night dashed that particular dream as the soldiers readied their weapons. As they scanned the barren landscape, they didn't see the gargoyles swooping down until it was too late. They dropped a weighted net down upon the soldiers, effectively trapping them.

With the soldiers dealt with, the gargoyles all landed before the locked storage tower, breaking through the door with relative ease. Without hesitation or remorse, they plundered the stores for all they had, not leaving a single crumb of food for the humans.

"You filthy beasts!" One of the men cried out. "The Hunter will wipe your thieving kind off the face of this earth!"

The female gargoyle, the past quarter of a century evident on her face, turned to the soldier with a snarl.

"Not while I live." She promised.

Hatred brimming in her eyes, she raised a mace, bringing it down on the helpless humans, silencing their cries of outrage and fear.

In a hidden sanctuary in the cliffs of Scotland, the female and her clan awaited the dawn's fair light. She rationed out their stolen provisions, ensuring that everyone got all that they needed. Unfortunately, even with all of the food that they had stolen, there were those in the clan that did not see the honor in their lifestyle.

"I'm tired of scrounging for food and acting like a thief." One of the gargoyles grumbled. "I don't see why we can't just make peace with the humans."

The female approached the gargoyle that had spoken, backhanding him across their sanctuary. As he slowly got to his feet, the female grabbed him, lifting him into the air.

"Do you think the humans want peace?" she questioned. "We are all that is left of our kind in this world, and the Hunter begrudges each of us our lives! I will not let him win!"

In her anger, she did not see the three visitors to her sanctuary until one spoke up.

"We bring word of the hunter." One of them called out.

The anger in the female's eyes faded, giving way to surprise. She turned to see three identical, old female gargoyles. The only way the female could tell them apart was their different colored hair. One had black hair, one had gold, and the third had white. Though she was surprised to see them, she welcomed them with open arms.

"I do not know you." She greeted. "What clan do you hail from?"

"We hail of no clan." The blonde one explained. "We are wanderers, providing aid to those who need it."

"And now, your Hunter seeks a human target in Castle Moray." The black haired one added.

"You and your clan must ally with the Moray Clan. Do this, and you will be rid of the Hunter." The white one insisted.

The female scoffed, turning away from the three old gargoyles.

"Ally with the humans…" She growled, placing a claw over her heart. "I will never make that mistake again."

She turned back to the old gargoyles, her face hardened.

"Let the Hunter seek out his human prey." She proclaimed. "For once he is done, I shall slay him myself."

At Castle Moray, a friendly game of chess between Findlaech, the Lord of Castle Moray, and a young noble woman by the name of Gruoch. Despite her young age, the young woman succeeded in placing the Lord in checkmate, much to his surprise and delight.

"Ha!" He laughed good-naturedly. "You're as clever as you are beautiful my dear!"

"Thank you milord." Gruoch replied with a small bow.

Bodhe, Gruoch's father, stood up from where he sat at the great dining table. He walked over to where a young lad sat, watching the game with a faraway smile.

"Macbeth!" he declared, drawing the boy's attention. "Perhaps you should try your hand at the game?"

The boy blinked, looking up at Bodhe before turning to his father.

"An excellent idea!" Findlaech agreed. "Come lad, take your seat and see that you do better than your father."

Nervously, the young Macbeth stood up, talking his seat at the chessboard. As they two young ones begin to replace the chess pieces, their fathers sit at the table.

"That Macbeth is a good boy." Bodhe commented with a smile. "A sight more sturdy then his cousin, Duncan."

Findlaech lets out a sigh at the mention of the heir to the throne.

"Aye." He agreed. "I cannot change that Duncan will one day rule the realm, but I can only hope he will be a better ruler then I believe he will be."

"He is rash, I must admit." Bodhe commented. "But perhaps the weight of the crown will settle his spirits."

"One can only hope." Findlaech nodded. "But he will be our King, for good or ill. And by the Sigil of Moray, Findlaech pledges his loyalty. "

Both Macbeth and Gruoch were still replacing the chess pieces on the board. By accident, their hands touched, causing Macbeth to blush furiously. Gruoch was also blushing, but she was a bit more discreet about it. Exchanging knowing smiles with Findlaech, Bodhe rose from his seat.

"Enough talk for one night." He decided. "It's time I see Gruoch to bed."

"Of course." Findlaech agreed. "Macbeth, see our guests to their chambers and return straight away."

"Y-yes father." Macbeth replied, his cheeks still red.

Without another word, Macbeth led Gruoch and her father out of the dining hall. As they left, Findlaech went to pour himself a glass of wine, only to find the decanter empty. Setting it down, he clapped twice to summon the kitchen boy to refill it. When he didn't emerge immediately, the Lord grumbled.

"Wretched kitchen boy." He grumbled. "Probably napping by the stove again."

The door opened and Findlaech turned towards the sound, ready to give the boy a stern lecture. However, the words caught in his throat when he realized it was not the kitchen boy that had emerged. Instead, it was an imposing figure cloaked in black. He wore a thick black cloak over a strange hood with three red claw marks across the face. The figure had his sword drawn, bright purple eyes boring into Findlaech like a predator.

"The Hunter!" Findlaech exclaimed. "GUARDS! GUARDS!"

Nobody came running, forcing him to defend himself. Thinking quickly, Findlaech grabbed a silver platter off the table, discarding the food on top of hit and using it as a shield. He barely brought it up in time to block the incoming blow from the Hunter's sword. Despite his failed first attempt, the hunter kept attacking, forcing the lord out of the dining hall and onto the battlements outside.

Back in the dining hall, Macbeth returned, still smiling from his encounter with Gruoch. However, when he saw his father facing off against the Hunter with naught but a dinner plate, his eyes fly open.

"Father!" he cried out.

Thinking fast, Macbeth grabbed a pair of swords off of the mantle, running out towards the battlements. As he approached, he could see the tray his father was using was beginning to break under the constant attacks from the Hunter. Just as it broke, Macbeth tossed one of the swords at his father.

"Catch!" he called.

Unfortunately, the Hunter was faster. He intercepted the incoming sword, sending it over the battlements. Without hesitation, Macbeth ran forward, coming between his father and the Hunter.

"I will not let you lay a finger on him." He swore.

The two exchanged blow after blow, their skills equally matched despite Macbeth's young age. Above the fray, Gruoch and Bodhe peered out the windows, drawn by the sounds of the fighting. Upon seeing Macbeth fighting the Hunter, Gruoch gasped.

"Macbeth!" she cried.

Macbeth looked up, a mistake that cost him his sword. Now disarmed by the Hunter, Macbeth backs away, Gruoch running out of her room to try and help him. Luckily for Macbeth, his father was not out of the fight just yet. He grabbed onto the Hunter from behind, attempting to pull him away from the boy. Macbeth then ran forward, trying to pry the sword from the Hunter's grip. A sudden kick sent the lad, as well as the Hunter's sword, flying across the battlements and into the just arriving Gruoch.

With the Hunter now weaponless, Findlaech tossed him aside, diving for the sword. He reached it, then jumped to his feet, intent on killing the Hunter once and for all. However, the Hunter easily dodged the blow, using Findlaech forward momentum to throw him off the battlements. In the scuffle, he also took hold of the Sigil of Moray, a necklace that hung around Findlaech's neck.

"FATHER!" Macbeth cried, running to the edge of the battlements. "NO!"

Tears poured from his eyes, his father nowhere in sight. So distraught was he at the loss of his father that he did not even notice the Hunter coming up behind him, his sword poised to kill.

"No!" Gruoch screamed.

However, before the blow could be struck, the female gargoyle came shooting out of the sky, tackling the Hunter to the ground in a sudden flurry of motion. He managed to kick her away, both of them getting to their feet.

"Finally I have you." The female snarled gleefully.

"You…" The Hunter growled, speaking for the first time since his arrival. "Now I will finally have my revenge."

Macbeth and Gruoch now fully ignored, the Hunter and the female clashed. The female's tail came out, whipping the sword from the Hunter's hands. It clattered before Macbeth, who picked it up in a furious motion.

"MURDERER!" he screamed, charging blinding at the Hunter.

The Hunter easily dodged the reckless blow, sending Macbeth flying at the female. She two knocked him away. He went flying towards the battlements, narrowly avoiding falling off them by grabbing the edge. While Gruoch went to try and save him, the female closed in on the Hunter.

"Now you will know how it feels to be hunted." She jeered. "And it will be the last sensation you will ever experience."

She raised her claws to attack, but a frantic scream from Gruoch drew her attention. She could see the young girl slipping over the edge, unable to pull Macbeth to safety. She wanted to turn away, but when she looked at the two of them, she couldn't help but see her beloved Goliath urging her to aid them.

Reluctantly, she turned away from the Hunter, taking hold of the girl's waist and pulling her to safety. Once both Macbeth and Gruoch were safely away from the edge, she turned away from them, intent on completely her mission. Unfortunately, the Hunter had taken the opportunity to vanish.

"No!" she cried. "I almost had him!"

Both Gruoch and Macbeth looked up at the female, both fearfully, and gratefully.

"Thank you." Gruoch whispered.

The female turned to them, partially angry at them for robbing her of her revenge, but also surprised that they so openly thanked her. With a dismissive scoff, she launched herself from the battlements, leaving the two young ones alone to ponder who she was.

In Edinburgh Castle, Prince Duncan, the future King of Scotland, paced around the castle. He was extremely nervous, and becoming more and more irritable with each passing minute. However, when he heard a distinctive knocking at his chamber door, he stopped. As he turned to the door, the Hunter walked in.

"Is it done?" Duncan demanded.

Without a word, the Hunter pulled the Sigil of Moray from his pocket, tossing it towards the young prince. He caught it, looking at the golden sigil with a gleam in his eyes.

"You did it." He whispered. "Clan Moray is no more."

"Alas, young Macbeth still lives." The Hunter replied.

Duncan shrugged.

"It matters little." He decided. "Findlaech was well loved. With his support, Macbeth could have been King. However, now he is but an orphan with no title of his own."

He pocketed the Sigil, then turned to the Hunter.

"But now, Castle Moray stands without a Steward." He mused. "And I can see no one better to hold the position then you, Hunter."

The Hunter pulled down his hood, then removed his mask. He had light brown, curly hair, and a set of three scars across his face, matching those sewn onto his signature mask.

"Please, milord." The Hunter replied with a bow. "Call me- Gillecomgain."

Twelve years passed, and the battle between the Hunter and the Female Gargoyle continued to rage. Neither of them were willing to give up their fight, not until the other lay dead at their feet. However, the years were beginning to show in the two combatants. The female's red hair had become a lighter shade, while the Hunter became fatigued more easily than in the past.

"How pitiful." She muttered. "You have grown weak, human."

The Hunter snarled underneath his mask, his sword raised to attack. The female went to meet him, but stopped when she noticed the ever lightening sky. Dawn was fast approaching, and she would be vulnerable.

"We'll finish this another night." She promised.

The Hunter went to take one more swipe at her, but she jumped up, disappearing into the sky. Angrily, the Hunter sheathed his sword, watching her disappear.

"Not if I find you during the day." He threatened.

In Castle Moray, the young lad Macbeth had grown into a fine young man. Despite losing his father, and his title, he had been allowed to stay with Bodhe as his ward. During this time, he and Gruoch had fallen deeply in love. Unfortunately, when Macbeth went to ask Bodhe for permission to marry her, he had refused.

"I'm sorry my boy." Bodhe told him. "But Gruoch's hand is already promised to Lord Gillecomgain."

Macbeth could not believe his ears.

"What?" he demanded. "How can you do this to us?"

"As her father, I have the right to choose who Gruoch marries, and I chose him." Bodhe reminded him.

Macbeths fists clenched in anger.

"I'm warning you!" he swore. "If you allow this- this travesty to continue, then Gruoch and I will quit this castle! And this land!"

Bodhe sighed, knowing full well that Macbeth would make good on his promise.

"Be reasonable, Macbeth." He told him. "This union has been ordered by King Duncan himself. If we were to go against his wishes, we might as well tie our own nooses."

"I do not care!" Macbeth insisted. "I will take Gruoch! She is the only home I will ever need!"

"There will be no safe place to run!" Bodhe finally shouted. "You will be fugitives of all Scotland!"

Macbeth was taken aback by Bodhe's harsh words. With a sigh, Bodhe approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"If you cannot think of yourself," He told Macbeth, "at least think of my daughter."

Upon a hilltop near the castle, Gruoch awaited Macbeth's return. Humming a small tune and picking flowers, she imagined what life would be like as the wife of her beloved Macbeth. When she heard him approaching, she arose, happy to see him. However, when she saw the look of misery on his face, her heart sank.

"My love," she called. "Has something happened?"

Macbeth looked away, his heart heavy.

"Gruoch, your father has promised your hand to Lord Gillecomgain, by order of King Duncan." He explained.

Gruoch's eyes widened as she gasped.

"How can this be?" she asked. "He knows of our love, of our promise to be together."

"Yes, but he cannot refuse my cousin." Macbeth replied bitterly.

Gruoch's eyes hardened.

"Then we shall run away together." She decided. "We'll go to England. There we will be safe."

"No." Macbeth insisted. "You must do as your father wishes. Marry Gillecomgain."

Gruoch looked at Macbeth, tears in her eyes.

"But I do not love Gillecomgain." She told him, hugging him tightly. "My heart belongs to you and you alone."

Macbeth held her, wanting nothing more than to whisk her away to somewhere that Duncan could never find them. However, Bodhe's words rang in his ears.

"What kind of life can I offer you?" he asked. "If we ran away, we would spend the rest of our lives hunted like dogs. We would never know a moment's rest."

"I would endure that, for you." Gruoch told him.

"But I cannot do that to you." Macbeth replied. "I love you too much to make you endure such hardships."

Reluctantly, he pushed her away.

"You must do as your father commands." He insisted sorrowfully.

With tears in her eyes, Gruoch reached for Macbeth, but pulled her hand away. She knew he was doing what he thought was best for her, even if it broke both of their hearts.

"As you wish." She whispered quietly.

She turned away, talking down the hillside. Macbeth watched her go, then collapsed to his knees in the grass, pounding the dirt with his fists in anger and misery.

In time, Gillecomgain and Gruoch were wed. Everyone celebrated their union, especially King Duncan. Many remarked that it was a happy beginning for the kingdom. Unfortunately, Macbeth did not see it that way. All throughout the ceremony, his eyes never left Gruoch.

"It should be me up at the altar with her." He thought to himself.

Gruoch also shared Macbeth's misery. As she was presented alongside her new husband, she looked over at Macbeth, longing to be at his side.

The wedding was not the only thing being celebrated that day. Duncan's wife had given birth to a healthy baby boy, the future King of all Scotland. As everyone cooed over the sleeping newborn, Macbeth took his leave, his misery and self-loathing too great to bear.

Duncan watched his cousin leave, his celebratory smile giving way to a nervous grimace. He had married Gruoch to Gillecomgain to ensure that his cousin would remain a title-less orphan. He wanted to be certain that Macbeth could never rise against him. However, perhaps he had pushed Macbeth too far.

That night, Duncan summoned Gillecomgain to his private quarters.

"I fear that my cousin may have been pushed to the brink with the loss of his beloved Gruoch." Duncan told him. "He may attempt to usurp my throne."

"And what would you have me do, milord?" Gillecomgain asked.

"Simple." Duncan replied, a mischievous smile on his face. "I would like for you to arrange a little… accident… for Macbeth."

"Nay." Gillecomgain replied. "Tis not a wise move. Macbeth is well-loved by your people. Besides, having him killed, even if by accident, would raise suspicions about the true nature of his father's death. A death you personally ordered, milord."

Duncan's eyes narrowed as he snarled.

"Do not defy me, Gillecomgain!" Duncan ordered, rising to his feet.

Gillecomgain just snorted, an evil smile on his face.

"Perhaps it is you who should not defy me." He replied. "Or would you like your son to grow up an orphan, like your cousin did?"

Duncan grew silent as Gillecomgain rose from where he sat, walking out of the room.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, my wife is waiting for me to start our honeymoon." He said smugly.

Duncan watched him leave, angrily punching the wall.

"I never should have trusted that man!" He exclaimed.

As he pace around the room, trying to come up with a solution to his problem, three handmaidens, all identical save for each having either white, black, and blonde hair, approached the King.

"If we may, milord." The white haired one said.

"Perhaps Macbeth can rid you of the Hunter." The black-haired one added.

"And the Hunter take Macbeth in turn." The blonde one finished.

Duncan went to dismiss the handmaidens, but their words rang with truth. The Hunter was indeed formidable, but Macbeth had spent years training for the day he would meet the man who took his father from him. If they were to meet, they just might take each other out.

"An excellent idea." Duncan replied. "Fetch my cousin and bring him here. Tell him it is urgent."

Macbeth entered Duncan's chambers, surprised to have been summoned.

"Macbeth, dear cousin." Duncan greeted. "Please, come in. I am in desperate need of your council."

Macbeth entered, giving a proper bow.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Macbeth, I have made a grave mistake." Duncan explained. "One I cannot even hope to be forgiven for."

"What do you-?" Macbeth tried to question.

"It's Gillecomgain." He replied. "I have just learned that he is The Hunter."

Macbeth's eyes flew open. The man who murdered his father, the man who ruined his life, was Gillecomgain?

"WHAT?!" He exclaimed.

"He played me for a fool." Duncan added, "I believed him to be an honorable man, one who would bring peace after your father's demise. But now I see he orchestrated this entire thing. He wanted Castle Moray for himself, and like a fool I gave it to him."

"Then take it back!" Macbeth exclaimed.

"I would, but Moray is well armed and heavily fortified." Duncan explained. "If I were to try and renounce his claim to it, I fear he will turn Moray's forces against me, against Scotland. I cannot in good conscious send my people into a war they cannot win."

That's when Duncan's head came up.

"But you, you could face him." He realized.

Macbeth blinked.

"You are the true heir to Moray, a birthright stolen from you by that charlatan." Duncan insisted. "Go to him. Go with my blessing and take back what is yours. Take back Moray. Take back your beloved Gruoch. But most importantly, take your revenge."

Macbeth gripped his sword, a vengeful snarl on his face.

"It would be my pleasure." He growled.

In the sanctuary of the Female and her gargoyles, the three old gargoyles returned, hoping to convince the female to join forces with the humans against The Hunter.

"The Hunter will resurface tonight at Castle Moray." The black haired one explained.

"We offer you another opportunity to-" the white haired one began.

"To destroy my enemy!" the female interrupted.

"To ally yourself with Macbeth of Clan Moray." The blonde one finished.

The female screeched in anger at the three old gargoyles.

"I have told you once, and I will tell you again! I will NEVER ally with a human! Never AGAIN!"

The three old gargoyles were undaunted.

"The hunter is enemy to you both." The black haired one explained.

"Together, you can defeat him." The blonde one concluded. "But separately-"

The female held up a claw, the anger fading away and giving way to reason.

"I make no promises." She interrupted.

At Castle Moray, Gruoch sat on the battlements, looking out at the night sky. In her hand, she held a single red rose, one given to her by Macbeth before her departure from Edinburgh Castle. Watching from the doorway, Gillecomgain let out an annoyed sigh. While he loved cherished Gruoch's beauty, her heart laid with Macbeth, something he knew he could never take.

"Gruoch." He called. "The night is cold. Go inside and stoke the fire."

She got up, leaving the single rose on the battlements as she disappeared inside. Once she was gone, Gillecomgain takes the rose, looking at it in disgust before smashing it beneath his boot. So distracted was he that he did not see Macbeth until his sword was pointed at his back.

"I have waited twelve years for this day, murderer!" he declared.

Before Gillecomgain could react, Macbeth kicked him hard, sending him across the battlement.

"Draw your sword and fight me, or I will slay you like the vile dog that you are." He snarled.

Gillecomgain rose to his feet, unable to contain a chuckle.

"Are you describing me?" he asked as he drew his sword. "Or your mongrel father?"

Macbeth saw red as he ran forward, swinging wildly at his opponent, Gillecomgain easily sidestepped, bringing the hilt of the sword down on the back of Macbeth's neck. Though dazed, Macbeth did not give up. He flipped a small bench, sending it flying at Gillecomgain. Once again, the man easily dodged, rewarding Macbeth with a punch to the gut.

While the two men fought, the female watched their battle from atop the castle tower. She did not know which one was her opponent, and thus, had to wait until he revealed himself.

Macbeth was still reeling from the punch, and Gillecomgain raised his sword to sever his head from his shoulders. Luckily, Macbeth swung his legs out, knocking Gillecomgain off his feet. In the fall, he lost his grip on his sword, and was forced to roll away from it to avoid one of Macbeth's blows. Now weaponless, Gillecomgain backed away from Macbeth, self-consciously looking over the edge of the battlements. These were the same battlements where Findlaech had lost his life.

"How appropriate." Macbeth taunted. "You will die the same way my father died!"

He raised his sword to deliver the killing blow, but stopped when he saw Gruoch coming out of the castle.

"Macbeth?" she called in surprise.

"Gruoch, no!" Macbeth cried out.

Thinking fast, Gillecomgain grabbed Gruoch, placing her between himself and Macbeth.

"Go on, lad." Gillecomgain taunted. "All you have to do to get to me, is go through her!"

"No!" Macbeth cried, getting down on one knee and holding out his sword in surrender. "Don't hurt her."

Gillecomgain grinned, taking the sword from Macbeth. With an evil chuckle, he took hold of his hood, pulling his signature mask on over his face. Above, the female launched herself of the roof, her prey now in sight.

"You will regret allowing me to see you dawn that mask, Hunter!" she screamed.

Hearing the cry, the Hunter looked up, tossing Gruoch aside to face her. Gruoch stumbled, nearly falling off the battlements. Only timely intervention from Macbeth prevented her untimely demise. He pulled her to safety, the two star-crossed lovers embracing for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

Back with the Hunter and the female, they fought, sword against mace, both of them desperate to end the fight here and now.

"This will be your last night, monster!" Gillecomgain promised.

He punched the female across the face, forcing her back several feet. He then grabbed her mace, swinging both of his weapons at her, forcing her to flee or risk death. Finally, she grabbed a metal brazier, using it to knock the mace from his hand, then the sword off the edge of the battlement. Tossing her makeshift weapon aside, she took hold of the Hunter, ripping his mask away to reveal his scarred face.

"Take a good, long look." He sneered. "Tis your handiwork. Done to me when I was but a lad. Remember?"

"No." Demona replied bluntly.

In anger, Gillecomgain grabbed her, flipping them both over the edge. Thinking fast, Macbeth ran forward, determined to save the life of the one who had saved him twice already. As he got to the edge, he saw the female clinging to the stone wall, Gillecomgain in turn clinging to her leg. He grabbed her arm just seconds before she lost her grip.

However, Gillecomgain was determined not to lose his prey again. He planted his feet on the stone, pulling as hard as he could to get Macbeth to let them both fall. Unwilling to die, the female whipped him with her tail, sending him plummeting to his doom. As his screams disappeared into the fog below, Macbeth pulled the female to safety.

The female hunched on the edge, looking at Macbeth in surprise. The human had no reason to help her, and yet he had. Conflicted, she did the only thing she could think of.

"Thank you." She said softly.

"I owed it to you." He replied.

"Then we are even." The female surmised. "Good."

Without another word, she glided away from the castle, happy to be rid of the Hunter, as well as any debt she may have held towards the human.

With Gillecomgain gone, Macbeth's birthright was restored, naming him the High Steward of Moray. More than that, he and Gruoch were wed, just as they always should have been. While the marriage of Gruoch and Gillecomgain had been a great celebration, Macbeth and Gruoch's union was a festival unlike any other. As Bodhe presented them to the crowd, everyone cheered them on, tossing flower petals and rice at the newlyweds. For the first time in their lives, everything was perfect.

However, watching the festival from a high window, Duncan was not pleased. He had hoped that Macbeth and Gillecomgain would kill each other. Unfortunately, one threat to his throne still lived. Still, he was not without a back-up plan.

"There will always be a Hunter, my son." He told his newborn son, holding up the mask of the Hunter. "And there will always be the hunted."

Eight years passed, and Macbeth had a son of his own, a young lad named Luoch. In time, Luoch and Duncan's son Canmore became good friends. They would run and play in the misty hills that surrounded Castle Moray. Usually, their fathers would accompany them. While Duncan still saw Macbeth as a threat to his rule, he kept him close. In his eyes, you keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

On one of the days were the boys were running about, Duncan lost his footing, slipping off the side of the cliff. Without hesitation, Macbeth dove for him, grabbing his arm before he could go much further.

"Hold on." He called. "I've got you."

With a mighty pull, he dragged Duncan safely away from the ledge. For a moment, they laid there, panting from shock and adrenaline.

"Macbeth…" Duncan whispered in utter surprise. "You saved my life…"

Macbeth shrugged it off, getting to his feet and offering his hand to his cousin and King.

"I'm sure you would have done the same for me, milord." He replied simply.

Duncan was silent for a moment, still reeling from the fact that the man he had feared would one day steal his throne from him had not even hesitated to help him. Perhaps he had been too hasty in judging his cousin.

"This dispels any doubts I ever held of your loyalty to me, and to the crown!" Duncan cried delighted.

Macbeth did not share his happiness. Instead, his gaze seemed to have fallen on a nearby cave. Following his cousin's gaze, he saw that the cave was full of gargoyles, all of them frozen in stone.

"Gargoyles!" Duncan called as they entered the cave. "A whole clan of them!"

Macbeth looked among the different creatures, then he laid eyes on a specific statue. It was the female gargoyle, the one who had saved his life 20 years ago, and who he in turn had saved eight years ago. He was pulled from his memories by the sound of Duncan grabbing a large stone off the ground, preparing to smash the statues. Panicking, Macbeth quickly put himself between his cousin and the gargoyles.

"Milord!" he exclaimed. "I beg of you, spare them."

Duncan raised an eyebrow in surprise, but allowed Macbeth to explain.

"It was not long ago that the gargoyles lived alongside us in peace." He tried to tell his cousin, gesturing to the female's statue. "This one and I share a similar relationship."

Though Duncan was skeptical, he dropped the rock.

"Very well." He agreed. "Since you saved my life, I will spare them in turn."

Together, the two men left the cave, where they gathered their sons to return home. However, a strange, thick fog began to pour into the area, badly obscuring the landscape.

"There is something… unearthly about this fog." Macbeth muttered.

"I agree." Duncan muttered. "We best leave, before we are-"

He never finished his thought, for at that moment, a strange silhouette became visible through the fog. Three haggard old women were hunched over a bubbling caldron. They each stirred the strange, green stew inside with long sticks, muttering strange nonsense between themselves.

"Double, double toil and trouble, Fire burn, and cauldron bubble."

They seemed to notice their guests, gesturing to them with their long nailed talon-like fingers.

"All hail Duncan! King of Scotland and father of the king hereafter!" One of them called out.

Duncan seemed to smile, placing a proud hand on his son's shoulders. The Macbeth walked forward, drawing an almost identical cry from the old hags.

"All hail Macbeth! King of Scotland and father of the king hereafter!" another called.

Macbeth's eyes flew open at the witch's words, and Duncan's face grew angry.

"You speak treason you old crones!" he exclaimed.

"You are but half-right." Macbeth clarified, trying to calm his irate cousin. "Duncan is the right and proper King."

"King now, he is." One of the witches agreed. "But each of you in turn shall be King."

Macbeth began waving his hands, dismissing the claims.

"I say nay to thee, weird sisters." He insisted. "Prince Canmore is destined to be King after Duncan."

The old witches seemed angered by Macbeth's words.

"You would lecture US on fate?"

The mist became thicker and thicker, until it swallowed up the three old hags and their cooking pot. Almost desperately, Macbeth turned to his cousin.

"Milord, I pray you do not take the ravings of those three madwomen seriously." He begged. "I would never betray you, cousin."

"You are right, cousin." Duncan agreed, turning away. "Utter nonsense."

However, his face showed a renewal in his distrust for his cousin. Even if the women had been mad, he could not risk the chance that they spoke the truth. He would have to rid himself of Macbeth, sooner rather than later.

Later at dusk, Duncan returned to the cave, flanked by an entire armada of soldiers.

"If Macbeth counts on the gargoyles' aid in the coming battle, then he'll find it a futile hope." He declared.

He approached one of the gargoyles, taking a mace in one hand, and the Hunter's mask in the other.

"Destroy them all." He ordered, pulling the mask over his face. "Smash them all to rubble. Wipe their monstrous race off the map."

One of the guards looked nervously at the setting sun, knowing full well what that meant.

"Wouldn't it be wiser to wait until morning?" he asked.

"I was lucky to find them here this morning." Duncan explained. "We may not be so lucky next time."

Acting quickly, the men began smashing every gargoyle they found. Unfortunately, the sun was sinking deeper and deeper beneath the clouds. It finally vanished just as Duncan prepared to destroy the statue of the female. Her stone skin shattered just in time for her to grab the mace and toss her attacker aside. The three remaining gargoyles that the men had failed to smash also awoke, immediately turning on their would-be destroyers.

"This cave will be your tomb!" The female threatened, approaching the fallen King.

Unfortunately, one of Duncan's men tackled her, allowing for another to get Duncan to safety. The female fought back, but she was old, and her great strength was diminished. She found herself pinned under the soldier, who drew a dagger to end her life. She flinched, awaiting the blow, but one of her remaining brethren stopped it from coming. He tossed the man aside, helping the female to her feet.

"Take to the skies!" she bellowed.

Ignoring the men, the four gargoyles fled the caves, taking to the skies. As Duncan and his men disappeared from sight, the female let out an angry curse.

"Now we shall have to find a new lair!" One of the remaining gargoyles exclaimed. "The hunting there was good!"

"Yes," The female growled. "But we are still the prey!"

She turned away from her comrades, muttering to herself.

"I weary of this fugitive life." She said quietly, looking at her withered claws. "But tired or nay, there is no one else who can lead the rest of our kind. Had I the strength of my youth, I would give those humans cause to run…"

As this thought passed through her, she found her thoughts drifting to that of the Weird Sisters that appeared before her in the past. She knew that they were no ordinary gargoyles, she could sense the ominous presence of magic about them. Perhaps if she could find them, they could find a way to restore unto her the youth she so desired.

At Castle Moray, Macbeth tended to a fire burning in the fireplace. The words of the Weird Sisters had him worried. Duncan had always been fearful that Macbeth would take his throne, something Macbeth had no desire for. He was content with his life as High Steward of Moray, but he knew Duncan did not see that.

"Macbeth." Bodhe called out.

Macbeth turned to see Bodhe, much older and greyer after these 8 years.

"You bring news, old friend?" Macbeth inquired.

"King Duncan's army moves against ye." Bodhe explained.

The poker fell from Macbeth's hands. So Duncan had taken the Weird Sister's words as truth. He sighed, having hoped that saving his life would have been enough to prove his loyalty to his cousin. However, it seemed that Duncan's lust for power blinded any hope Macbeth held.

"What should I do, Bodhe?" he asked. "My retainers are loyal, but they're no match for Duncan's forces."

Bodhe looked up at Macbeth, then over at the dining table, where Gruoch and Luoch were preparing for dinner.

"It is a slim chance, but if you surrender now, perhaps he will spare my daughter, and my grandson."

Macbeth looked at his family, seeing the wisdom in Bodhe's words. Not knowing if he would see them again, he walked up to his wife, embracing her tightly.

"Always remember, I love you." He told her.

Gruoch could feel the tension in her husband, but felt that it was not wise to ask him about it. Macbeth then picked up his son, holding him close as he whispered in his ear.

"Mind your mother." He told him. "Always."

He stood up, walking solemnly out of the room. Unable to hold herself back, Gruoch followed him.

"My love!" she called. "What troubles you? Has something happened?"

Macbeth turned to her, forcing himself to appear cheerful and nonchalant.

"Tis nothing, my dear." He assured her. "I just go to see my cousin the King. The journey will be brief."

She embraced him again, knowing full well what Macbeth meant by brief. She kissed him one last time, then watched as he left the castle, doing her best to hide her tears from her son.

Macbeth rode out of Castle Moray, not daring to look back for fear his resolve would crumble. As his home disappeared from view, a familiar fog rolled in. It didn't take long for him to realize that he had ventured into the cliffs where the gargoyles resided. On a whim, he called out.

"I know you are there!" he shouted. "The one who saved me all those years ago!"

The female gargoyle, who had come alone to the cliffs in search of the Weird Sisters, crouched behind a rock in an attempt to hide herself from the Macbeth.

"I beg of you, I am in need of your assistance!"

"And what if I do not seek to give it?" She snarled, still remaining in hiding.

"Please, surely you remember me? Together we defeated the Hunter!"

Anger still fresh in her heart, she leapt from her hiding spot, landing before Macbeth.

"I remember, and that is the only reason I do not crush you where you stand." She growled.

Macbeth reached for her, hoping to calm the obviously angry creature.

"I need your help once more." He explained. "My clan is in danger."

"And what of my clan?" the female demanded. "You humans have all but destroyed us, wiped us all out! There are so few of us left, and we are still pursued by the Hunter!"

Macbeth's eyes grew wide. It would seem Gillecomgain was not the only Hunter.

"Then I will protect your clan." He promised. "Help me now, and I swear on my life I will protect them for all days."

The female eyes Macbeth skeptically. She thought back to the Wyvern Massacre, and how the Captain had promised the same thing. Her trust had cost her everything, and she was unwilling to give it again.

"I have heard this song before, and I regretted falling for it." She snarled. "How do I know you will keep your word?"

As she said this, the wind began to pick up, swirling around before the two as the Weird Sisters appeared. To Macbeth, they looked like the three old hags he had met earlier that day. To the female, they were the old gargoyles that had appeared to her twice before.

"You three…" Macbeth whispered.

"You again…" The female muttered.

"This bargain calls for an act of good faith." The blonde sister declared.

The female approached the old hags angrily.

"What bargain?" she demanded. "We have no bargain!"

The sisters ignored the female's outburst, just looking at her curiously.

"What is it that you desire?" the black haired one asked.

"My youth restored!" she declared. "So that I may continue to lead my clan."

"And what would you be willing to trade, Macbeth of Moray?" the white-haired one asked.

"Anything to save my family." He replied without a moment's hesitation.

"Then the bones are cast." The black haired one declared. "We shall begin."

The sisters joined hands, circling around Macbeth and the female until they were back to back. Then, they began to speak in unison.

"Across the mists of space and time
we pose this covenant sublime:
Macbeth his youth doth offer here,
to make this one a force to fear.
While she with fang and claw and wing,
doth swear sweet death his foes to bring.
By their acceptance are they consigned,
unto each other's fate designed,
forever and eternal bound,
and each the other's pain resound."

The fog swirled around the two of them, both of them changing as the magic took hold. Macbeth's youthful brown hair turned as white as snow, though he kept his youthful physic. The female, however, underwent a massive change. Her wrinkled, bony frame became fuller and younger, her white hair returning to its original shade of fiery red.

Then, almost as suddenly as it appeared, the wind died away, leaving the two newly bound allies sprawled out on the ground. As they slowly got to their feet, the female marveled at her restored form, running her claws through her bright red hair. Macbeth felt his own, pulling free a few silvery strands.

"The pact is made." One of the sisters declared. "Our work is done. Now hurry. The storm is coming."

One by one, the sisters vanished into the mist. However, the black haired one paused, summoning a black crystal ball in her hands. She approached Macbeth, holding it out to him.

"Know this." She told him as he took the ball. "Gillecomgain was but the tool of your true enemy. The one who ordered your father's death was Duncan."

Macbeth's eyes flew open at the revelation. However, before he could demand more answers, the final sister disappeared, leaving him alone with the female, the ball, and his ever growing rage.

Macbeth returned to the castle, determined to fight his cousin. His retainers prepared for battle, sharpening weapons and handing out armor to all abled-bodied men.

"Why the sudden change of heart?" Bodhe asked. "Why choose to fight Duncan now?"

"Things are different this time," Macbeth explained, looking up at the darkened sky. "I have allies the Duncan will not expect. Besides," His fist clenched as he remembered the Weird Sister's words. "Duncan's lust for power must end tonight, one way or the other."

The female came gliding down before Macbeth and Bodhe, nearly scaring the latter to death.

"They approach." She told them. "This battle will begin soon."

Macbeth took a helmet from where it rested before him, placing it on his head.

"Then let us not keep my cousin waiting." He declared.

The war raged between Duncan's troops and the men of Moray. Macbeth's men were well-trained, but the sheer number of Duncan's men was enough to keep them at bay. Luckily, the gargoyles helped to greatly reduce Duncan's forces. The female showed her true strength, no longer hindered by the weakness of age, by taking out four men for everyone her brethren took.

"You fight like a demon!" Macbeth complimented as he slashed away at an incoming spear.

The female ignored Macbeth, but couldn't help but smile. Far above the battle, Duncan watched in horror as his men were tossed about like sacks of flour by the gargoyles. Knowing that if the battle continued, his men would surely lose, Duncan decided to take matters into his own hands. He slipped down from his perch, hiding behind an outcropping of rocks as Macbeth approached on his horse. With a deadly slice, he mortally wounded the horse, sending Macbeth sprawling into the dirt.

"Time for a little family reunion, cousin." He taunted.

Macbeth stood up, taking hold of his sword.

"I couldn't agree more." Macbeth agreed. "You brought this on yourself. I never desired the throne."

"If this is your definition of loyalty, then I should not have dismissed you so quickly." Duncan sneered.

The two cousins clashed, the female watching from the skies. From her view, she could see one of Duncan's soldiers attempting to aid his king. Snarling in anger, she swooped down, intercepting the human before he could interfere. Unfortunately, her actions distracted Macbeth long enough for Duncan to shatter his sword. Armed with only his shield, Macbeth could barely fend off Duncan's attacks, and soon, he found himself on the ground, at Duncan's mercy.

"Now it ends, Usurper!" the mad King shouted.

Thinking fast, Macbeth took hold of the black crystal the Weird Sister had given him. Acting on a whim, he lobbed it at Duncan, who sliced through it like it was nothing. When he did, a strange blue energy came out, striking Duncan in the chest. The king began to scream in agony as smoke billowed out of his eyes, ears and mouth. He stumbled back, losing his footing on the very cliff that nearly claimed his life just a day ago. Macbeth watched his cousin fall, looking away in regret.

"We could have been friends, Duncan." He whispered. "If only you had not been blinded by jealousy."

The female looked at her ally, then her eye caught sight of a piece of black fabric from Duncan's helm, which had not fallen with him. As she took it, her eyes widened.

"The Hunter's mask." She gasped.

"Then, the battle is truly over…" Macbeth let out. "For both of us."

With the death of King Duncan, his armies surrendered. Macbeth was unanimously named the new King of Scotland, a title that, while he had not originally wanted, he took with grace and dignity. However, there was one who did not believe that Macbeth was the true king. Canmore, Duncan's now orphaned son, refused to bow before Macbeth.

"If my father is dead, then I am the new King." He insisted, glaring at Macbeth with nothing but contempt and hatred. "You should all bow to me!"

Bodhe looked upon the boy with a disapproving stare.

"He will be trouble." He whispered to Macbeth. "Slay him now."

"Nay." Macbeth replied. "I will have no more blood on my hands."

He turned to Canmore, who was being forced to his knees by two of Macbeth's soldiers.

"Canmore, I will spare your life." He declared. "But you are henceforth banished to England. Perhaps your relatives there will welcome you."

Canmore's eyes narrowed as he freed himself from the grip of the soldiers. Snatching one of their daggers, he ran at Macbeth.

"You are the cause of all this!" He cried. "You- You- You monster!"

The female easily intercepted the boy, taking the dagger and tossing the boy back at the soldiers.

"Macbeth has spared your life, boy." She told him. "Don't throw it away."

Two soldiers pulled Canmore to his feet and led him away. As they did, Canmore snuck the Hunter's mask in his pocket, a malicious grin on his face

Macbeth's coronation was a splendid affair, held during the night so his new allies could attend. He swore that he would bring about a golden age of prosperity, not just for his kingdom, but for his gargoyle friends as well.

"Humans will learn to respect you." He told the female.

"I would rather they feared me." She replied.

"They'll do that too." Macbeth chuckled. "Demona."

The female blinked in confusion, then a smile creeped onto her face.

"Demona." she repeated. "I like the sound of that."

With her approval, Macbeth stood, gesturing to her.

"I hereby declare Demona my Primary Advisor!" he announced.

The people let out a grand cheer, one that surprised Demona, but then brought a smile to her face.

"Perhaps I could get used to working with humans again." She thought as she stood triumphantly by Macbeth's side.

Seventeen years into Macbeth's rule, the Hunter returned to Scotland. He, along with an entire legion of English soldiers march across the Scottish countryside. As they march forward, Demona and her clan swoop down, their numbers far superior from the original four. Like carnivorous birds they swooped down over the land, snatching up soldier after soldier and knocking them down with their weapons. The battle waged between gargoyles and humans, Demona setting her sights on the Hunter.

"You have plagued my kind for long enough!" she snarled. "Surrender!"

"Never!" the Hunter snarled.

Sword against mace, the two clashed. However, it became clear to the Hunter that even with his legions of soldiers, he was no match for the sheer ferocity and might of the gargoyles. As two soldiers pulled Demona off of him, the Hunter took hold of a nearby horse's reigns, hoisting himself onto the saddle.

"Retreat men!" he called. "We will fight another night!"

The men all began to flee as Demona gathered up her gargoyles.

At Castle Moray, Macbeth waited on the battlements, eager for word from Demona. When he heard the distinct sound of her wings in the wind, his face lit up like the night sky.

"Is it done?" he asked. "Is the Hunter defeated?"

"Not this night, but soon!" Demona replied cheerfully, hoisting her friend into the air. "Soon our battle will be over!"

He laughed as she spun him like he was but a small boy, then straightened his tunic once she set him down.

"Leave off," he told her in a tone of indulgent exasperation. "I have business to attend to."

He gave her a proper bow as he walked back into the castle. Demona watched him go, a sliver of worry creeping into her heart. Inside, Bodhe and Luoch met with Macbeth, who was anxious to hear what his oldest friend had to say.

"What is it that you have to say that Demona cannot hear?" he asked.

"Milord, it is because of Demona and her kind that the English have allied themselves with the Hunter." He explained. "They seek the destruction of the gargoyles because of the tales the Hunter has spread."

"And this concerns me, how?" Macbeth questioned, not likely what Bodhe was insinuating.

"If you forswear the gargoyles as allies, then the English will have no reason to attack us." Bodhe suggested.

Luoch stood up, angered at his grandfather's suggestion.

"Have you forgotten all that Demona and her clan have done for us?" he demanded. "All the lives that have been saved by their actions?"

He turned to his father in equal anger.

"Surely you are not going to consider this!" he insisted. "Without the gargoyles, Scotland would have fallen years ago!"

"Luoch!" Macbeth shouted.

Luoch flinched at his father's tone. Macbeth then approached his son, placing a hand on either shoulder.

"A wise king," he told him, "considers all of his options. And then he makes his choice."

Angered that his father would ever think of just treason as an option, Luoch stalked out of the room. As he did, a figure emerged from just beyond the window. Demona had heard it all.

"Everything I have done, everything we have done, and he plans to desert us!" Demona thought, her claws digging deep into the stone. "I should have known better…"

Angrily, she pushed herself away from the window, disappearing into the night.

Later that night, The Hunter's forces returned, attacking Castle Moray. They lay siege to the castle, bombarding it with flaming catapults and lit arrows. As the castle burned around him, Macbeth searched the sky for Demona and her clan, terrified when he saw no sign of any gargoyles.

"Where are you?" he muttered.

"My Liege!" a messenger called. "My Liege!"

Ducking down to avoid an oncoming arrow, Macbeth turned to the messenger.

"Sire, it's the gargoyles!" The messenger reported. "They've all deserted us!"

"No!" Macbeth practically shrieked. "Our entire defense was planned around their aid!"

Without the gargoyles, Macbeth's forces were outnumbered 5 to 1. There was no chance of victory.

"Tell the men to flee the castle." He ordered. "There is no point fighting a battle we cannot win."

"And what of you?" The messenger asked. "What of Lady Gruoch and Prince Luoch?"

"Luoch's reinforcements will not make it in time." Macbeth answered. "I will take Gruoch and we will live to fight another day."

The messenger bowed, running to deliver Macbeth's orders. As he did, Macbeth went running into the burning castle in search of his beloved Gruoch. He found her trapped in her chambers, the fires consuming all in sight. He took her in his arms, leaping from the burning room and escaping through the castle as it continued to fill with smoke.

It doesn't take long for the two of them to escape. As the English stormed the castle, the two escaped through the water gate beneath the draw bridge. They knew they needed to be clear of the area before their absence was discovered.

As Castle Moray fell, both Gruoch and Macbeth made their way up a hill, a fair distance away from the castle. Having run the entire way, both were exhausted, and stopped a moment to catch their breath. As they leaned against an outcropping of rocks, the Hunter emerged from behind it.

"Welcome." He announced. "The time for masks is over."

Macbeth stepped between Gruoch and the Hunter as the latter removed his mask. Macbeth gasped when he saw who was underneath.

"Canmore!" he exclaimed.

"That's right." Canmore jeered. "Son of Duncan, and TRUE King of Scotland! A title you stole from me when you murdered my father and banished me to England!"

He drew his sword and approached Macbeth.

"A title I intend to buy back, with your blood." He declared.

Macbeth drew his sword with a sigh of regret.

"I had hoped your time in England would teach you the humility your father lacked." Macbeth lamented. "Perhaps I should have heeded Bodhe's advice and slain you that day."

"Then why did you not?" Canmore questioned.

"Because while your father deserved his fate, you were but a boy." Macbeth explained. "That is why I spared you, and why I offer you one last chance for forgiveness… and mercy."

"Canmore has no need for mercy." Demona's voice echoed through the stony crags. "But you will."

Macbeth looked up in surprise as Demona landed in front of him, a look of anger and betrayal on her face. Macbeth's expression mirrored hers as he turned to her.

"First desertion, and now betrayal?" he demanded. "Why?!"

"I merely offer you a sample of what you planned for me!" she snarled. "I heard your plans to renounce our alliance."

"I planned to have you rule by my side!" Macbeth insisted. "And now because of you-"

"Spare me your righteous anger, Macbeth!" Demona howled. "You would have turned your back on us just to gain the approval of the English!"

"Never!" Macbeth screamed. "For 37 years we have been allies! Do you think that means so little to me?!"

"Yes." Demona replied.

Taking advantage of their quarrel, Canmore stepped forward, thrusting his sword into Macbeth's back. Both he and Demona howl in pain before collapsing to the ground dead.

"No!" Gruoch cried, running to her dead husband.

As she fell weeping over her husband's body, Canmore wiped his blade clean and sheathed it.

"So, the rumors were true." He mused. "Macbeth and the monster were linked by sorcery. When one dies, both die."

Many of Canmore's men came up the hill, having been drawn by the death rattles of Macbeth and Demona.

"We have done as you asked, milord." One of the soldiers said with a bow. "All of the gargoyles are no more."

"Excellent." Canmore proclaimed. "It would only have been a matter of time before they betrayed me as they did Macbeth."

"Sire, Luoch approaches with reinforcements." Another soldier called. "He will outnumber us soon."

"Then we shall depart." Canmore ordered. "Let Luoch see what his family has become."

Canmore and the English departed as Luoch and his men came running up the hill.

"Their tracks lead this way!" Luoch shouted. "My father and mother are close!"

Luoch made it to the top of the hill, his heart stopping when he laid eyes on Macbeth's body.

"Father!" he exclaimed. "NO!"

He fell to his knees, Gruoch placing her arm around him.

"Oh Luoch…" she sobbed.

Luoch began to shake with sobs, then slowly rose to his feet in anger.

"The Hunter and his English dogs will PAY FOR THIS!" He screamed.

Bodhe, whom had accompanied the young Prince up the hill, gently scooped up Macbeth's crown, placing it on Luoch's head.

"The King is dead." He whispered. "Long live Luoch, High King of Scotland."

Luoch wiped his eyes, turning to his mother.

"I will avenge Father." He promised her. "I leave Father's last rites to you."

Gruoch gave a solemn nod, stroking her husband's hair as she was left alone with her grief. Once she was alone, a strange mist began to swirl around the two bodies. From the mist, the three weird sisters emerged, looking down on Demona's form.

"The pain is great, but it will pass." One told her. "Arise, and face the fate you have chosen."

Gruoch went to yell at the old hags for disrupting her morning, but the words caught in her throat as Demona slowly began to rise. Shock gave way to anger as she rose to face the gargoyle.

"You fool!" she shouted. "Macbeth did not betray you! He valued your alliance above all else. In your blindness, you have lost the clan you so desperately wanted to protect, destroyed by Canmore and his men!"

"You lie!" Demona snarled, fear and anger in her voice.

"You are the last of your kind!" Gruoch screamed. "And if you refuse to believe me, then go! Search for your dead kin! Search until you and your kind are naught more than a faded nightmare!"

With an animalistic snarl, Demona pushed past Gruoch, taking to the sky to do just that. Gruoch watched her go, then gasped as she saw the old hags surrounding her beloved Macbeth.

"Poor MacBeth," The white haired one said softly. "Canmore was wrong about you and Demona."

"He said when one dies, both die." The blonde one added.

"But when one lives, both live." The black haired one concluded.

Indeed, Macbeth began to slowly stir, eliciting a horrified gasp from Gruoch. In shock, she watched him pull himself to his feet as the hags continued their cryptic explanation.

"And thus you both shall live, eternally linked, sharing each other's pain and anguish, with no release until one destroys the other." They said in unison. "Only then shall both finally perish… together."

The old hags disappear, the mist dissipating. Macbeth attempted to approach Gruoch, but she backed away from him in fear.

"Stay away…" she whispered, "You are a ghost… a revenant…"

"Nay." He insisted, taking his wife's hands. "I am flesh, just as you are."

"But, how can this be?" she said in surprise. "Canmore killed you."

"I do not know." Macbeth answered honestly. "But as I live, I must get to Luoch."

He turned to go, but Gruoch stopped him.

"No my love!" he cried. "You have already been accused of sorcery. Luoch and my father have seen you slain. If you go to them, even your vassals will see you as naught but an evil spectre."

Macbeth could see the wisdom in his wife's words.

"Then what should I do?" he asked.

Choking back a sob, she looked away from her husband.

"The only hope for Luoch, and for Scotland, is for you to remain dead." She told him. "Leave Scotland, flee where none can find you."

Macbeth nodded.

"Then we shall leave tonight." He decided.

"No." Gruoch whispered. "Luoch has already lost one parent this night. I cannot rob him of another."

Tears were in both of their eyes as they embraced for a final time. Macbeth stroked her hair as he whispered in her ear.

"No matter how long I live, no matter what happens to me… I will always love you." He promised.

"And I you, my love." She replied.

With a heavy heart, Macbeth released Gruoch, turning away from her and walking away. Not turning back, he left her on that hill, the rising sun drawing in the beginning of his new, eternal life.

A monster born of endless hate,
a hunter tied to her by fate,

for centuries they clash and fight,
But all of that will end tonight.
And now that the full tale is known,
Awaken, child, to the City of Stone.