Portersville was a cozy little town, tucked into a small valley made by two sloping mountains. The sky was dark, and the day had been dreary, foggy, and tiring. The families of farmers had tucked down for the night. Sure, it was All Hallows Eve, but people here were extremely superstitious. It was not good to jest when the spirits of evil were about.
Overlooking the valley was a crossroads, a place where people were executed, so that their wandering spirits would be confused on which road to take. The Executed hung, swinging from ropes around their necks. A stone altar, with such things as burned cat remains on it, stood where the roads met. It was a pagan altar, an altar to Hecate the witch goddess. There were no recent embers. The stone was cold.
A young shepherd was carrying a lost lamb down to the valley. The thing had gotten separated, and he had found it bleating all the way up here. Usually he tried to stay away from this place it gave him the frights. All the gruesome bodies staring after him. He stopped before the altar. This thing was the worst. It stood large and forbidding; an unspoken proof that witches were among them.
It started to glow…he stepped back dropping the lamb. His eyes had grown wide, and they grew wider still, as a body started to emerge from the glowing stone. All was dark, except that glowing altar. Dark shapes flowed from it, cackling. Then it all stopped. He was left in darkness again. He stood perfectly still waiting, watching. He couldn't move. He was frozen. And then he saw them…the red, glowing, pairs of flames. There were hundreds of them; surrounding him and moving closer. A light, or a ball of fire, he could not tell, illuminated them. Or it should have, but the creatures somehow remained in darkness and emitted darkness. But he saw her, yes, he saw her. She was tall, and enticing, but clearly evil. Her eyes bore no flame; they were glassy, black orbs. Her hair was the color of ebony, and flowed to her shoulders in waves. Protruding from her head was a set of twisted, black, cow-like horns. She had the body of a temptress, but it was covered in tattoos of snakes and such creatures of the night. She was wearing a skintight leather vest, half unbuttoned, a pair of tight blue pants hugging her figure, and thigh high leather boots. Her fangs protruded over her crimson lips. She stood right before him, hands on her hips, a smile playing on her lips. He couldn't move; he was lost in the black orbs. As quick as lightning, she reached out and grabbed his neck. He couldn't breath; he could feel his neck breaking. With a nasty snap, she released him and watched him fall to the ground. She looked up and around; the little shadows watched her, crouched waiting.
"What are your orders, Oh Mab, Daughter of Darkness?" came the voice of one of them, though it could hardly be called a voice. "Boys…"Her voice was like that of a thousand voices. The voices of The Fallen, the voices of evil. "Let's have some fun!" A wicked grin spread across her face as she said this. Cackles and laughs and snickers rang through the night as the shadow horde headed towards Portersville.