Gone With the Witches
Goodevening, reader. Allow me, if you will, to interrupt your story momentarily. Allow me to claim this chapter as my own and lead you deeper into the inmost cave.
I am not known for my interfering nature. Indeed it is my lack of it that means that I will outlive all that this world currently knows; any elder or avatar, any demon, certainly any witch. But, with regards the Charmed legacy, everything is elastic. My own temperament included.
I have met the Halliwell sisters many times. I was there at the death of their mother, their grandmother and their sister. I am there in every vanquish and every loss. I was there in the weeks before they battled the ultimate power. I was there the first time when I took Phoebe and Paige. I was there the second time, when I took Christy. And I was there the morning that they lost Wyatt.
My list had changed several times that week. On Monday, it had thirteen names. On Monday, I did what I had only done once before. I warned somebody. Tyler James Morgan saw my face for a moment in the flames of a potion he was cooking. He saw it later that day in a bus window. He saw it once more in the seer's pool. That was all I did; the flicker of a familiar face, the shadow of a doubt. That was enough to send Tyler into the underworld, that was enough to set in motion the events that led Wyatt into the jungle. As Tyler listened to the seer's prophecy, my list shrank. Only two names were left - Wyatt Halliwell, Corben.
And so I stood next to them in the jungle, less than a week later. And as they fought I waited for my souls. I waited to take them on to the other place; Heaven and Hell respectively. But as I waited, their names dissappeared from my list. Was it when Wyatt drew the triquetra, was it when he called on his ancestors or was it Sebastian Sanchez's feeble spell? I cannot say. But sometime during that ungodly hour in the Amazon, Wyatt Halliwell and the Dark Son were granted life. Their souls, however lost, do not belong to me. They remain on this plain. Their destinies, however, are mine.
A short chapter this has been and I hope you will forgive my intereference. Without it, I fear your story may never have been complete. You shall not hear from me again but I will be there, unseen in every death.Until our final meeting then, when I shall lead you from this world.