:Prologue:

Dedicated to SilverWolf735, also known as Julia, since she's my beta reader and has given me an ample supply of ideas for this story. Thank you so much, I love you 3

Just a side note, this is a historical au, which I intend for it to be set sometime in the mid 17th century, but most of the information being fed is not historically accurate, since I am playing with worlds and whatnots.

I do not own any of the Naruto franchise, all the credit goes to Masashi Kishimoto

On every full moon, rituals ... take place on hilltops, beaches, in open fields and in ordinary houses. Writers, teachers, nurses, computer programmers, artists, lawyers, poets, plumbers, and auto mechanics - women and men from many backgrounds come together to celebrate the mysteries of the Triple Goddess of the Dance of Life. The religion they practice is called Witchcraft.

STARHAWK, Spiral Dance

The night reeked of quietude, the air smally growing thicker by the minute as the pale, soft face of the moon leisurely waxed through the passing hours, it's crescent undertaking it's full, spherical shape. Beacons of light gently caressed the lush, tingling green leaves of Konoha's cool and ever-growing forest. The rough tree bark, scratched and pruned, held no sign of passing as they stood there, stationary, whilst their scalps of knobby branches that pointed with their stout forms, held the slim pleasure of the kiss of falling fronds.

The battered, uneven ground laden with compost had been ceased of any treaders; it's muddy flooring no longer betaking wanderers, casting their hollow pathways and sticky acres of walking sites to areas unknown. The only sound picked up sans the churring of wild insects, lulling themselves to sounding slumber was the silent speed of the zephyr, whistling softly as it glided through, seeping through the heavy plants and grazing the dark ground, bringing wafts of cold following after.

Out of tranquility, war is brought after.

Piercing screams snatch the serenity of Konoha's sea of woodland, scaring the fowls who were only resting peacefully seconds prior, causing them to flap their wings in panic and fly away, struck in the trance of fear. The succulents shook, the cries echoing with the aftermath of each one an agonising ring that vibrated through the hollow crevasses of each wood. Soft pads of animals were deafened against the harrowing screams, as they scurried hastily to find a much more promising, comforting solace. Squirrels, carrying their crisp, sour berries and nutty acorns hopped light on their feet across the bumpy planes of the forest floor, wondering what just might have occurred to have the night heavily disturbed as such a perturbed hour.

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Mebuki could no longer hold it anymore. A dam had bursted within her, the bridge collapsing way too early for one's comfort. She gasped and whimpered as she was cautiously laid on the hand-crafted bed fabricated at the last minute, clutching her stomach for dear life, valleys of tears stinging behind her sclera, stricken with red veins of fatigue. Her mind began to fuzz, as if struck with a thousand balls of cotton, and she was dizzy, failing to catch one breath at a time, each becoming ragged. She could not cast a single spell in such an entranced state.

Tsunade slipped a hand under her dampened forehead, relieving herself of the feeling of yet another bead of perspiration cascading down her chilling skin. Her body played a game of hot and cold at this very moment, heat surrounding her pounding head, heart pumping ferociously out of pure terror, afflicted upon sharply with a lightning bolt. However, from the neck down, she was freezing, goosebumps curving upwards on her pale skin and feverishly pecking dots of chills along her limbs. Her hands shook greatly, too.

Haruno Mebuki's water had broken, hours ago-the Senju had lost track of time and had placed the idea of counting away from her mind- and her contractions grew closer and closer with each strangled breath that escaped her. Lungs that were within the labouring woman flared with urgency, and Tsunade knew that more oxygen had to be supplied, or else she would choke off of her own quaking puffs.

She witnessed as the woman with sticky chai tufts struggled to contain her shrieks, biting into her hand for painful comfort, her toes itching and scrambling at the end of the bed. Her eyes were scrunched to the brim, lined with slim cords of brimming tears, some already streaming down her aggrieved features.

Premature, indeed...Tsunade pondered silently in thought, as she propped a small cradling space for the baby that was about to be born. She wound up the strips of wood to barricade and placed a pillow for easement. She then grabbed her rod, walking to the opposite side of the room, where it practically gleamed with unwavering clamour. She stood, proudly towering over it, before sliding her fingers across the stem and picking it up, surveying it one last time, like a fine tooth comb, before furrowing her wet brows and beginning to tend to the lady beside her.

It was time.

Senju Tsunade's wand was meticulously crafted, and handled with great care, lest a war had broken out. It had been concocted out of a singular, luscious stem of a bamboo stick, preserved and unrotten with the undying assistance of its wielder (soon to be Tsunade at that time), fixed with intertwining coiling twigs. It was coated in a metallic finish, silvery as a spoon, but not as reflective. At the pinnacle, wrapped firmly in the slim fingers of the responding branches, was an amber, hugely real and cradled in yellow warmth. It belonged to the sorceress herself, chosen out of will; the gem was willed to her. It glowed at her command, and clouded at her feet. She held the staff with pride, along with myriads of other maidens who had accomplished the duty of receiving theirs.

The woman gingerly brought her eyes to a close, taking in a deep breath before clutching onto her rod with more strength. She focused her mind on the power radiating off her yellow crystal, its potency swirling through seams of found the centre of it's magic, and dawned all her might on it. It blew a canary colour, gold spiraling through until misty streaks ascended from it. She wished that it would be carried onto the woman's body to provide more oxygen, and her yearnings were granted. The steamy particles drove through Mebuki's nostrils, and soon enough her breathing was a little easier to handle. The pain, however, was not.

Her unborn child was supposed to be brought into the world one month from now, but fate had other plans, apparently. The child had yet a chance of survival with some accommodation, Tsunade hoped. The process of labour had not only worn her out physically, but her mind was ripped to shreds. With each accentuated push, she could feel the Haruno's strength deteriorating, and could only support her with more from her share.

On the twenty eighth day in March, barely grazing the second hour, a new witch was born.

Tsunade cradled the girl in her arms, light as a feather, and sound asleep. She did not cry, nor did she open her eyes, her widening mouth and small, heaving chest were the only signals she had to opt to in order to rely and record that this child was indeed alive. A living breathing thing. Now, another being attached to the coven hidden away in the leaves.

She had prepared water from the nearby streaming lake, purified and decently cold, and slowly washed the infant, wary of any mishaps, she warmed it up slightly so the tingling feeling wouldn't be as strong.

She wrapped the baby in a warm cloth stained black, and handed her to Mebuki, who smiled weakly as the girl was brought close in her arms. The presence of the newborn child wrought a new set of tears to her eyes, as she sniffled and held the small girl as tightly as she could- she did not squeeze hard, she only did what she could, since the both of them were weak at the moment.

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"What will you name her, dear?"

The medic wrought out streams of water from her squared flannel, dipping it in cold water and then repeating said process. She spectated as the woman across the room gently lifted her head up from her sleeping baby to the Senju. A soft clearing of the throat resonated quietly across the room.

"...Sakura. Haruno Sakura."

Her voice, laced thickly with wisps and rasps brought from her cries made her throat tender and sore, so she struggled to speak with her usual strong legato. The name, however, brought a smile to both their faces. Tsunade brought the small bucket and set it upon a small stud of wood that, in not counting the makeshifts of beds for both the mother and daughter, was the only real piece of 'furniture' the room possessed.

She ordered the Haruno to slowly lie down properly, her head supported by the weight of feathers stuffed into cotton, before proceeding to dab the flannel on her clammy forehead, then resting it completely afterwards. This brought out a sigh from the patient.

"Thank you, Tsunade."

Words that were self-explanatory in this case, ushered forth worry in the aforementioned's mind. Her golden brows knitted in disdain, whilst slowly retracting Sakura from her mother's arms. She placed her in the small crib she had seemingly crafted before; then she preceded to the wall, pressing her back against it as she slid herself onto the cemented ground. There, she stared out at the open door. No light was switched on, only the silver moonlight transfixed from the open door held some brightness of the room, as well as cooling it down. It had felt quite humid in the presence of tension and fear, panic and dignity.

The Senju stole one last glance at the child: her skin creamy and soft, her mouth piped open slightly as her small chest receded with every intake of breath, and soundlessly exhaled and puffed right after. The corners of her lips twitched upwards slightly as she put all of the weight on her head against the wall, her eyes fluttering to a close.

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Mikoto stared intently across the planes of Konoha's now settling village. The sun had begun to set, stinging colours of orange and purple into a frenzied rendezvous, as it did every night. She observed, from the assistance of her small balcony giving her the liberty of seeing the stretching greenland and houses built across and beyond her fielding vision. Her raven locks waltzed with the zephyr, who was slightly cold and playful at the very moment.

She took the time to bring her lids down, her onyx globes no longer prominent. She inhaled, the chilling air sending shivers down her spine. She turned back, not opening her eyes until they were perfectly cast upon a crib with a sleeping boy. She softened in his presence. Her back returned to him, however, and she continued gazing out, this time her expression matured and stern.

"A storm is brewing…"

If one were permitted to look close enough, without blinking, they would be able to make out shards of crimson flickering through a sea of obsidian.

So this is the prologue! I hope you guys liked this, and if you're wondering, yes, I will be working on this and Alphabetical Order at the same time, so wish me luck that I won't die during the process. Until next chapter-

-Ava