Prologue : Ovadel

The rain poured relentlessly from the sky, drowning out any sense of presence. As the door swung open, the loud chime of the bell was masked, revealing a young man standing oddly dry.

"As I said earlier, she wasn't in the mood to talk. She insisted I should have figured out what I had done wrong. However, this time around, I wasn't going to listen to her tone, so I took him with me."

The bartender glanced over at the young man, who sat one seat away from a married man with his six-year-old son. Recognizing the man's gear, the bartender knew he was one of the many mages from the oracle.

"Well, well. How was Ovadel?"

the bartender asked, pouring a glass of whiskey and sliding it down to the mysterious man.

"Rough," the man replied gruffly, nodding to the bartender's query.

"What about the witch?" the bartender inquired, snickering to himself as he reached for a cloth to wipe the pub table. After taking a sip of whiskey and twirling the glass, he placed it back down. "She was convicted of third-degree treason."

"Just like that old wicked enchantress. Dead?" the bartender smirked at the thought.

"As it seems," the man confirmed.

As the man with the young boy left, the boy made eye contact with the mysterious man. Strangely, his eyes shimmered with yellowish sparks. "Your eyes are in a really beautiful shade of yellow, good sir," the boy remarked with a rocked smile.

The father hushed his son for the audible insult before bidding goodbye. Laughing at the kid's remark, the bartender shook his head in denial.

"You can't have such yellow eyes, young man, because only 'it' has them,"

he said, puzzled.

As the young man stood up to leave, he pulled out a few silver coins to give to the bartender, grinning. Pushing his cape away from his head, the bartender gasped in silence as his eyes met the cursed yellow eyes of the man.

"Th-the-the witch,"

the bartender stammered, his voice trembling with fear.

The young man shape-shifted into a woman, and the bartender fell to his knees, begging for the witch's mercy. "Oh, Lord, please save me. Have mercy on me," he pleaded.

"I'm the villain of my own story, aren't I, young man?" Her voice sang two tones higher than before, now a woman's voice. He begged for mercy, but the witch remained unmoved.

"What does a young man like you want, asking for a witch's mercy?"

As the man walked out of the bar, thinking he was at the witch's mercy, she cast a spell on the bar.

The screams and cries from the rest of the bar echoed as it was engulfed in furious flames, managing to carve a huge smile on the witch's face.

"A witch's curse could never be broken. Immortality within. A wicked creature long convicted of such blasphemy shall forever be exiled. Mortal and enchantress will never come to terms, for they shall forever be consumed by the blaze."

(504 words)