The Masters of Death

The old English countryside sat shrouded in the shadow of the darkest new moon - silent as death and laden with the cold, spring breeze. A sudden whoosh made the tree leaves rustle against the wind as a young woman instantly appeared along the bank of a pond. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the sheer darkness of her surroundings. The water of the pond was silent but its fresh scent drew her toward its edge.

She froze where she stood the second her foot touched the pond, the water soaking through her withered boot. A chill in the air suddenly surrounded her, and she clenched her fists at her side as a terrible sight began to creep into her mind - a flashing image of a fire and a child's agonizing face as it was engulfed.

The woman held her breath and forced her eyes to open. She had hardly noticed how cold the air around her had become, so much so that her breath expelled from her mouth in a heavy cloud. Fear gripped her and goosebumps swarmed across her arms. Her heart pounded within her chest as her hand inched toward the small sheath at her hip.

The pond was freezing solid, forcing her to step out of it. That was when she heard the most terrible sounding moan emanate from over the water. The woman stood her ground as she saw it. There, hovering over the pond, she saw the black outline of a cloaked figure. It slowly glided toward her with the most malevolent aura, groaning and gurgling through the dark hole of its hood.

Amidst the overwhelming fear that enveloped her, the woman produced the wand from her sheath and pointed it at the creature. As if sensing a threat, it raised a gray, scraggly hand from beneath its cloak and pointed it toward her. She held her arm firm as everything went silent.

Suddenly, the creature swooped at her, letting out a raspy, terrifying cry. The woman reacted immediately. From within the dark depths of despair that clouded her mind, a faint light crept forth; the sight of a cottage in the middle of a beautiful countryside, a small boy standing at her side, taking her hand and smiling up at her.

With the memory filling her heart, the woman waved her wand in a wide circle, and as she did so, a bright, silvery light spilled forth from its tip. The hooded creature seemed to bounce off the spiral of light as if striking a wall. Just then, the many streams of light came together to form the blinding shape of a great crow, which swooped at the creature. The crow snached it with its metaphysical talons and threw it away from its conjuror. The creature immediately turned and fled, disappearing into the black veil of the trees beyond the pond.

As everything returned to its once quiet atmosphere, the ice on the pond began to thaw as quickly as it froze. The fear and despair lingered in the woman's heart for a while longer but it soon faded as well. Once everything had settled, the woman watched as a strange disturbance came over the water. A large, flat stone suddenly emerged from the pond, floating just over the surface. She stepped forward to plant her foot on it, not worrying about the stone sinking back into the water. It remained steady on the surface, however, and as she stepped onto it, another stone rose up behind the first. With each one that she stepped onto, a new one would appear, forming a path across the pond.

As she neared the tree line on the other side, she watched as two small trees suddenly shifted, bending over until they intertwined with one another as if to form an archway. Upon reaching the other side, the woman stepped onto the bank and ducked beneath the archway, but it did not take her into the darkness of the woods.

The woman emerged into what appeared to be a garden of some sort. Looking behind her, the archway from which she entered was no longer there. Instead, she was faced with a great hedge that towered over her and encircled the entire garden. The woman turned her attention back to what she was doing and strided along the stone path before her which led toward the center of the garden. As she walked, she glanced to her right to see a row of bushes sprouting dozens of orange, radish-like fruits, but she halted in place when a voice suddenly sounded from in front of her.

"Who is there?" the voice demanded in a hoarse, withered tone. "Step out of the shadows!"

A feeling of mild annoyance swept over the woman as she outstretched her arms as if to reveal herself. "I'm not in the shadows."

Just then, a tiny orb of light appeared ahead of her. As it glowed brighter, it revealed an elder man as he approached her on the stone walkway. He wore a hood over his head, but that did nothing to conceal the aged wear of his face nor the short, pointed beard that almost seemed to glisten in the light that glowed from the tip of his wand. As he inched closer, he lowered his head and let out a sigh of relief. "Oh it's you, Maravelle."

As if on cue, Maravelle stepped forward into the light of the old man's wand, revealing a face of unrivaled beauty, with fiery red hair that draped elegantly over her shoulders and golden eyes more radiant than the leafy palettes of autumn. "I hope you didn't think I wouldn't return, Soreces."

The old man called Soreces turned and pointed his wand into the air. "Lumos Maxima," he uttered as the orb of light shot from the tip of his wand and hung suspended high above them, illuminating the entire garden. Soreces turned back to face his visitor and removed his hood, revealing what appeared to be a faded tattoo of a serpent winding around his bald head.

"I brought what you wanted," Maravelle said as she removed a small brown sack from her hip. She unwound the string tying the sack shut and reached inside. Despite its small size, Maravelle reached her entire arm inside of it and pulled out a staff-shaped object, roughly five feet long and wrapped in an old, grey cloth.

Soreces' eyes glowed with disbelief as Maravelle held out the object in her arms. He stepped forward and reached out a hand as if to take it, but withdrew it as though something was holding him back.

"Is something wrong?" Maravelle asked.

Soreces pointed his wand at the object. Just then, it was levitated out of Maravelle's arms. He led the object to an ancient-looking stone archway that stood just behind him. He gently set it down on the path, in the center of a circle etched into the rock.

"I must admit," Soreces began, "I didn't hold out much hope that you would return, but seeing as you prevailed against my black beast-"

"I've seen one before," Maravelle cut in. "Only once, but I know how to deal with them."

"Indeed." Soreces knelt before the wrapped object in front of him. "If you don't mind, how did you manage to retrieve this?"

"I'd like you first to tell me what it is," Maravelle said coldly.

"It's far beyond your understanding, I'm afraid."

"Beyond my understanding?" Maravelle fired back in disgust. "I'll have you know that I was educated at the finest magical institute the world has ever known! In the noble house of-"

"Yes, I am familiar," Soreces cut her off. "I did not mean to offend you in any way, but this is a powerful and exceedingly rare artifact. I would be obliged to hear the tale of your finding of it."

Maravelle was growing impatient. "Do with it what you promised me, and then perhaps I'll share."

"Very well," Soreces replied. "But you understand I never promised you anything."

"What? Yes you did, and I'm tired of waiting!"

"Calm yourself. I simply mean I cannot promise any results - not the sort you hope to achieve that is."

"Please," Maravelle's voice softened. "I'm begging you. I've worked too hard for this and done things that still haunt my dreams at night. It's all I care about. It's everything that's kept me going. I was led to believe that if anybody could come close to achieving such an impossible feat, it was you. You must try! I'll do it if I must! Just tell me how!"

"No!" Soreces thrust his hand behind him to stop her from coming closer. "I will do what I can, but you must stand clear and remain calm. Please, help yourself to a drink."

"I don't want a drink."

"So be it. Now stand back."

Soreces leaned over the object and used his wand to unwrap it. Maravelle cocked her head to the side, trying to get a glimpse of it. It had been bound by a spell she could not break when she found it, and she wondered what magic he was using now to unravel it. Whatever the case, Soreces seemed to know what she was thinking because the light he had conjured above them had dimmed just enough to obscure her view of it, but she could tell for certain that it was a staff of some sort.

Just then, she heard Soreces begin to mutter under his breath. At first, Maravelle thought he was uttering another incantation, but as she listened closely, it soon became apparent it was something else. It was unlike anything she had ever heard before - a guttural hissing formed together into some sort of unnerving speech.

The etched circle in the stone began to glow a disturbing hue of green, rising up from the cracks like wisps of flame. A series of ancient runes appeared within the circle as well as along the pillars of the archway. Soreces scanned it up and down as if waiting for something to happen. Maravelle's heart was pounding and she held her breath. What was going to happen if this worked, she did not know, and it filled her with anxiety.

Suddenly, Soreces sprang to his feet. "GET BACK!" He swung his arm at her. Maravelle was knocked to the ground by an invisible force.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

Soreces did not answer. Maravelle could see the staff begin to vibrate uncontrollably on the ground, as though somebody was shaking it. Just then, she heard a terrible-sounding voice erupt from the glowing circle - or perhaps from the staff itself. It was cold and filled with malice, and it echoed words that sounded very much like the tongue in which Soreces had previously been muttering.

Soreces held his hands out in front of him as if to contain whatever force was pouring forth from the ritual circle, but to no avail. He was suddenly thrown violently off his feet, and, to Maravelle's horror, the stone archway cracked and collapsed before her very eyes, falling into little more than a pile of rubble. The rushing commotion ceased in a matter of seconds and the cloth bindings folded over and wrapped around the staff on their own, tying tightly shut. It was over.

Soreces grunted as he struggled to sit up after being thrown over. He stared in shock at what remained of the ancient archway that had stood in the center of the garden for thousands of years.

Maravelle was trembling in disbelief. "No," she uttered before leaping to her feet. "NO! No, no, no!" She ran over to the heap of broken rock and collapsed to her knees, sobbing into her hands. "I've come so far! This cannot be! This cannot be how it ends!"

Soreces pulled himself to his feet. "I am so sorry, my child. This is what I was afraid might happen."

"I don't understand," Maravelle stammered weakly. "I did everything you told me to do. You told me what to do! How could you lead me astray?!"

"I didn't lead you astray," Soreces said as he approached her. "I did as much as I knew I could, but you have to realize by now that what you want is out of your reach. It's impossible."

"NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE!" Maravelle boomed, jumping back to her feet to face him. Her face was streaked with tears and twisted in anger. "I refuse to believe that! That's muggle-talk! There must be another way. Please! Is there anything else we could try?"

Soreces stared at her with a piercing gaze for a moment. "There is magic in this world that has eluded even my own knowledge."

Maravelle's eyebrows rose. "What sort of magic? Another artifact? Where is it? I'll find it as I've found everything else!"

"Not an artifact, but a magical creature written about in legend. It is heavily associated with Death."

"A creature?" Maravelle questioned. "I've never heard of such a beast before. What is it? Where can I find it?"

"I know not," Soreces answered sternly. "I'm only conveying what rumors I have heard. They say few have ever seen it."

"That will never stop me! Tell me everything you know and I'll hunt it down!"

"You still fail to understand. It does not simply appear to anyone who happens upon it. Only Death permits those worthy few to gaze upon it. This is beyond your reach, Maravelle, as I have tried to warn you from the beginning. Your rabid desire has already cost me more than I can fathom," Soreces scolded her as he gestured toward the collapsed archway. "I will have no more of this."

Soreces walked past her to examine the remains of the stone archway. Maravelle stood speechless, burning with betrayal. She could not accept this. Everything she had done up until now, all the lengths to which she had gone, she couldn't give up now - not when she was this close. But now the last person she trusted to help her was turning his back on her.

"Maybe you're right," Maravelle said at last. "Maybe it has all been for nothing, but I'm not willing to accept that until I've failed."

"You already have," Soreces responded, their backs still turned to one another.

"Not yet I haven't. I'll do whatever I have to, even if I have to do it myself."

"It's a fool's errand, girl. We have tangled with Death enough already. I will help you no more. Now be gone."

"I will," Maravelle growled, "and I'll go and track this beast to the end of the Earth if I must." A whole new fire burning in her eyes, she raised her wand in front of her face and said, "And I'll greet Death as an old friend to do it."

Maravelle had all but surrendered herself. Without another word, she whipped around, pointed her wand directly at the back of the last person who would ever dare to betray her, and furiously shouted the terrible incantation.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"