This is my newest story. This story will feature a few OCD's.

Enjoy

Prologue

Plunging through the tree, bare branches snagging against her cotton dress and yanking against her well groomed hair, legs trembling with every step, breath rasping in her chest, blood dripping down her bitten lip, she forced herself to keep going. The witch staggered and stumbled, clutching at the nearest tress, heading pounding, peering at the twisting darkness as she sent a silent prayer to anything that might be listening to her.

Clutching a battered parcel to her chest she closed her eyes and willed her heart to calm; those foul creatures would be able to hear the rapid, pounding of her heart. The Watchman's hounds had been so closely behind her, just a breath away, until she had hidden in this forest. If you could call it a forest anymore, just death and decay had replaced the lust green. Uneasy silence echoed around the forest, the deep rapid breathes of the witch's breathing was the only sound punching through the silence. No hounds came thundering through the branches, it was hard to believe that she had lost them, she could feel them moving through the trees, hunting her every step, her every breath.

Like walking on thin ice, she step carefully, pausing as if one wrong move would bring down hell itself on her, willing herself to keep moving, to keep going. A twig snapped and she twirled around. Barely daring to breath she waited, listening… Nothing… A howl ripped across the starless sky, she knew that sound, a cold sweat broke out across her back and forehead, everyone knows that sound, its death.

From the darkness, the Watchmen's dog leapt at her, teeth snarling, his yellow tinted eyes filled with blood lust, lunging for her throat.

"Merlin, help me" she cried as she flung her arms up in the air, drawing upon the her power, she threw herself to one side, slipping on the water logged earth, crashing to the ground, expecting to feel the sharp piercing of its teeth around her throat any moment. With the last of her strength she struggled back to her feet, brought her trembling arm up and summoned her power. Searing heat built up around her, the beast leapt again, snarling, howling and biting, just inches from her fingers, the blue flame engulfed it. Consuming it, a pain filled howl erupted across the forest as the wolf curled up in blacken lump of burnt flesh.

Collapsing to her knees, panting heavily, she tightens her grip on her parcel. To far had she come, crossed to many dangers, risked so many lives for this little stone and she will not fail at the last huddle, even if it cost her life, her soul. Determination flooded through her, forcing her shaking, frozen limps to move, ignoring the pounding of paws, the blending of howls and barks that consumed the silence, the fear that was trying to paralyse her, she ran.

Not looking back, she could feel the hound's breath down her neck causing her to shiver, the branches snag her, pulling her back as they pulled against her torn dress, her ragged hair, and scratched all her bare skin. Slipping and stumbling, her ruined shoes struggling to grip against the soaked earth, the slush that had formed from last night's rain, she bit her lips as she twisted her ankle again.

Screaming as hound's body collide with her, sinking in jagged teeth, deeply and ruthlessly into her arm, they crashed into the wet ground together, rolling through the trees, the dirt, the thorns and the broken branches, as the hound sunk it teeth deeper and deeper into her arm. Things flew past the witch in a blur; a wave of sickness gripped her, stomach churning as the beast savagely torn at her arm, side and any other part of her body it could fit it teeth around. Together they skidded, slipping down towards the gorge, a cry slipped from her lips as they slammed into rock, the jolt forcing the hound from her as it rolled and crashed, unable to stop it thundered down the gorge. It gave one last pain-filled howl before silence. Staggering to uneasily to her feet, she clung at her side, panting heavily, as if each breathe was a struggle; she peered into the darkness to find the yellow glint of their eyes thundering towards her. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, a gorge in front of her and the Watchmen's hounds behind her. Is that death looked like the moment before it killed you?

There was no escape, no hope, not for her at least, but she could give the hope to her people, to her sisters. Not everything was lost; there was still a chance to stop this.

"Hear me, my beloved friend of the night," She summoned, her power surged around her as called for the only thing that could save the now, "I need your help, and I need your strength and speed."

Sharp shooting pain travelled through her leg, the hound yanked her to the ground, pulling, shaking her away from the gorge edge as it clung to her leg. Shrieking she lashed out with her other foot, thrashing, and twisting her body as she desperately tried to grasp the ground. Tears gathered behind her eyes as the scent of her own blood filled her noses, with her luck swiftly running out she landed a powerful kick, catching the beast's nose. Caught by surprise the hound drop her, giving her the chance she needed, she flung the parcel over the gorge, away from her, away from the hounds and away from the Watchman. Snarling, the hound clamped its teeth around her again, dragging her away from the edge, the witch did not struggle but smiled slightly as the hoot of owl erupted from the sky, the pure white snowy owl emerged from darkness, diving into the gorge and emerging with the parcel tightly in its grip.

Dragging deep into the forest, she was surrounded, the hounds circled her, like hyenas stalking their prey, snarling, snapping and growling at her, but not touching her, not yet. A silence fell around the hounds and icy cold fear griped at her heart, watching in panic as the hounds lay down, and waited for their master. Walking straight out of hell, the watchman emerged from the darkness, the sickly moonlight reflecting from his black armour, his blood red cape bellowing in the invisible wind, his masked face glaring down at her. Until now she had never understand why the Watchman wore a mask, she always believed it was childish attempt at looking dangerous but now, alone and surround by death and darkness, she realised how truly terrifying he was; he showed no mercy, no hope and no emotions, just a cold metal detached face glaring from the darkness.

"Where is it?" The Watchman demand in silky wispy voice as his eyes burned into her, peering into her every soul for answer. "Where is it!"

"Gone," she said calmly, with more strength then she felt. Scrambling to her feet, she was determined to die standing, facing her death, not snivelling on the ground before his feet. "Out of your reach."

"Foolish witch," the Watchman stated as he pulled out his sword; the pale silver gleaming in the moonlight, pressing it tightly against her throat. "What do you hope to achieve? You have signed your own death warrant."

Glaring down the sword at him, she would not tremble, not now. "I am not afraid of death, I do not fear what is waiting for me," she claimed as her heart pounded loudly, panting heavily as she struggle to stay up right. "Your master, on the other hand, should tremble, should fear."

"My master fears nothing," he erupted in laughter, a deep laughter that filled with scorn that mixed with the barks of his hounds. "He is power, he is strength and he is death across this land."

"No," she shook her head, then wish she had not as her vision blurred. "He will be stopped; the chid of the light has been born. There is nothing, nothing your master can do to stop the light!"

"Let the light come," he roared as he waved his sword around, laughing as if they were sharing some sort of private joke. Like switching on a light, he grew more serious, as he glares at her. "It will be consumed by darkness, by my master."

"No. You're wrong."

"It shame you won't be alive to see your precious light destroy," he said, burying his sword deep in her chest. Gasping she slumped to her knee, clutching at the gaping wound, she raised one hand up as if beseeching higher help before collapsing to the ground.

Glaring at the unworthy blood on his sword, wiping it clean on the nearest hound, he turned towards the pack of mangy mutts. They could not even stop one useless witch, worthless, stupid hounds.

"Find it! Now!"