The Mistress of the Woods (Aldir and Voly)

The Woods of Cantos were known for a number of things; wicked beasts, twisted paths that seemed to lead no one, and darkness so thick that one could almost take a knife to it. Of all the dangers it held, however, none made one's blood turn to ice quicker than the witch. Most of the neighboring settlements knew well of the wicked woman and ways, of the magic she weaved and the depravities she committed. She was the subject of many campfire stories, and those who did dare speak of her did so in hushed whispers. Some had claimed that she'd escaped to the woods when the last emperor called for a cleansing on those who practiced the arcane arts, while others believed that she'd been born in the forest and had been raised by wild folk who were known to occasionally lurk about. There were even few who suggested that she wasn't even human, and instead was a demon who wore the skin of a woman. Regardless of the truth, however, the people of the neighboring towns could agree on at least one thing. Whatever the woman was, she had forsaken her soul long ago.

For as long as most remembered, she tormented them. The kidnappings had been constant, a couple of villagers disappearing ever year or so. A few had tried to fight back and send hunters into her domain, and yet they'd suffered all the more. Poisoned livestock, salted earth, and even plague were consequences of going against the ruler of the forest. Some had even petitioned to the capital in hope that the emperor would be capable of dealing with the issue, and yet with the empire currently embroiled in a war the most people could hope for were the occasional squad of patrols and the occasional hunter looking to make a quick bit of coin. Even they proved no match for the mistress of the woods, and after the second patrol had vanished the people found themselves essentially forsaken.

It grew to point that some of the villages had lost hope almost entirely, and help sate the witch's seemingly endless appetite. One life, so a couple dozen more could live comfortably. To Len, it had seemed like a fair enough idea. That was, at least, until she'd found herself chosen to be the 'one'.

Deep within the woods, far away from her village of Rena, the young woman laid in a state of near unconsciousness. She had been drugged, a common herb having been used. Her eyes only partially opened, her mind foggy, she'd remain in the state for another hour at the most. By the time she awoke, it'd already be too late. The are where she'd been left in were home to ruins, a relic of an age long since passed. Crumbled walls and moss-covered stone created a meek shelter, and the place was one of the few landmarks in the massive forest. It was the Rena villagers had left their past sacrifices, laid upon the stone slab that Len herself had taken residence of. Hands bound above her head, and feet strapped together, even if she had the strength the girl would not be able to escape.

Barely more than a teenager, eighteen years of age, the young maiden was hardly difficult on the eyes. Long dark hair formed a pillow beneath her petite form, and even in her current state the woman's bright blue eyes still seemed to hold a bit of a spark. She'd been stripped of her clothing, two pieces of cloth covering hiding what little of her modesty remained. Noticeably, upon her belly, a symbol had been drawn as well. Simple in design, nothing more than a circle with an X in the middle, it the none the less served to mark her as a sacrifice. She had been disowned by the village, and now as to serve the witch's own machinations.

Her life was, essentially, over.

Moonlight, it was the appointed time then and not just any moon but the night of the first waning moon of summer. The ritual was to be worked anew, a task in which Lyaia was more than happy to go about for that which it granted her. The ruins were near, that place where it had always began and where it always began again which each renewal. The price was a high thing to pay, almost heretical to some but it was something in which the woman was happy to pay. It was something she would pay again tonight and likely many nights hence from now.

The tall dark haired woman strode easily through the crooked trees and gnarled moss covered roots that surrounded the ruins, walking with the confidence of an empress in her palace. She was the very definition of womanhood, looking to be in her mid to late twenties and possessing an almost unnatural beauty. She looked rather as though she had been carved from purest alabaster, dark hair flowing freely in the night air. Her features were full and supple, each movement seeming to promise unforgettable pleasures. It was her eyes though that gave off the true eeriness of her existence, the orbs purest white as though she were in fact completely blind.

The robe she wore was a simple affair really and was the only article of clothing one might note upon her body. Along her hands and feet, arms and legs, indeed her entire body from the face on down were drawn intricate and exquisitely runes of arcane origins. When the moonlight caught them, they seemed to shimmer briefly before falling mute once more. The Witch of this forest was on the prowl and no beast dared enter the ruins this night, for they knew what dark deeds done there were unnatural and terrifying.

Lightly she stepped inside the ruins proper and slowly made her way towards the chamber where her victim was laying. There was a long dormant human part of her that still shriveled a little bit at this, that hated what she had become. It was drowned out by the other part, the part that saw this as nature taking its course and her only resort. She had come too far for second thoughts regarding this, done far too much to give into mere guilt. Lyaia even found that this side of her had come to enjoy the ritual over the years.

Soon enough the witch saw her, the gift left to her by the village in order to prevent her wrath falling upon them. She smirked; she might as well refer to them as her subjects. For did not kings and emperors demand tribute from their subjects? A share in their harvests? The thought amused her, Witch-Queen Lyaia, it had a nice ring to it if she was being entirely honest. The witch merely shook her head and slowly approached the stone slab and the young woman laying upon it in a state of near unconsciousness.

Lyaia raised her hand up gingerly and ran her fingers gentle across the young woman’s face, the marking across her belly marking her as the witch’s domain. Part of her told her to get this over with, but the other part wanted to wait for a bit. There was no sick enjoyment out of just completing the ritual on a blurry minded sacrifice. She preferred when they were lucid, when they could experience the entire thing. It somehow made the ending all the more sweet, the fear and despair of her victims somehow vindicating the entire thing. She crushed any qualms she might once have possessed and placed a hand over the mark on the woman’s belly with a toothy smile being flashed to the sacrifice.

“Well now… aren’t you a pretty thing. The last one lying in your place was somewhat plain in the face, but you are cute. Your people spoil me so much.” The woman said, circling the bound woman’s navel with her index finger slowly.

Pure white orbs stared down into the currently half lidded eyes of the sacrifice, alight with some bit of elation. As despicable as this was it managed to set adrenaline pumping through her veins, a buzz in her skull. Lyaia liked to imagine this was what it felt like to be drunk on power, on the idea and sensation all at the same time. She could have ended this quickly, but she wanted to hear the pleas, the begging, the rationalizations and the appealing to humanity that was very much shriveled and locked away. So she opted to wait a little longer for the herbs to wear off, reaching into her pocket and producing a smooth white triangular crystal from the pocket of her robes.

The minutes passed as the witch awaited for the drugs to wear off, the girl's faint breathing barely able to be heard of the over the distant chirping of crickets and rustling of wind against the leaves. Even the witch's frigid touch, even her honeyed words would do little to sway the young sacrifice from her induced stupor. Yet, as the moon continued its slow ascent her herb-addled mind would slowly begin to recover. It was subtle at first, a faint spark returning to her gaze...her breathing quickening. Within the deep recesses of her groggy mind Len would begin to realize that something was wrong. She was not in her bed, tucked away cozily. She was not dressed, even the gentle breeze sending a chill through her spine. She could not move, her sluggish movements bearing no fruit.

The realization was slow at first, but none the less the recent memories slowly came to surface. She could recall feeling a flurry of emotions, a deep fear that made her stomach swim. The mayor had brought her to his home for tea, he'd spoken of an issue that only she could address. Despite her own suspicions, despite the feeling of unease in her belly she'd followed through. If she had truly been chosen then they would've told her outright, no? Certainly, they'd owe her that much.

"No...no..." Her voice was barely a murmur, but even so the fear was near palpable. She'd been chosen, she'd really been chosen. "No..." She didn't deserve this. She'd done so much for them, and yet they'd tossed her out like a rag.

As her vision finally focused, the girl's frightened gaze settled upon the looming figure of the witch almost immediately. Her heart pounded like a drum, bound hands trembling. From an initial glance, the witch would've appeared beautiful. Silky hair, fine skin even with the runes etched upon it. Yet, a quick glance of the eyes was all it took to dispel any illusion of normalcy. Behind those pale globes of white Len saw not but a shred of humanity.

"Y-you don't have to do this." Her voice quaked, choked with tears as her struggling growing all the more forceful. "I didn't...I didn't do anything to you."

Despite her words, at the very back of her mind the girl was well-aware that they'd accomplish nothing. She was doomed to die, no matter how forcefully she begged.

The first signs of awareness was the denial of her situation, Lyaia chuckling as it was always the same for every woman that lay where this one currently did. The witch placed the crystal beside the woman, whose eyes finally fell upon the mistress of these woods. There was the begging at first, this was where her victims often varied their tactics. Some cursed and spat at her, others begged, the result was normally the same of course. Lyaia’s fingers ghosted over the smooth crystal, the residual essence upon it coursing through her very being. It was a constant companion since that fateful day.

“No… I suppose you did not. That hardly matters of course. You stayed in your village when you knew full well the price they agreed to pay me. Thus you accepted the possibility of being placed on this altar.” Lyaia stated, twisting around the argument normally posed to her.

The witch shrugged off the loose fitting robes and stood naked now in the moonlight, her body a tapestry of eldritch runes that seemed to crawl across her skin. When spoken aloud the runes could very well cause blood to run from the ears and mouth of the uninitiated. She closed her hand into a loose fist, grasping the crystal with her other hand and drawing upon the vestiges of energy there. The cool breeze and moisture in the air formed in a frost near her loose fist, giving form to a dagger of pure ice.

“I will, however, tell you what is going to happen to you. I’m certain you are curious, come on, just a little?” The witch asked rhetorically.

“Most witches lack the power I possess, most are mere tricksters. However, the crystal I possess here allows me to augment my power beyond what is normally possible. In order to use it, one must first give it something that can power it and serve as fuel. The fuel in this case being souls. When I drive this blade into your heart and the last breath leaves your lungs your soul will be siphoned into the crystal.” The woman continued, her right free hand travelling downwards towards the sacrifices womanhood.

A terrible price to pay for power, taking a sacred thing like the soul and using it as a means to fuel the dark arts. Lyaia was willing to pay the price, a price she would make Lan pay this night. One would suffer so that the other could remain an all-powerful witch, a fate worse than death really. The witch used her free hand to start pleasuring the captive woman, dipping her fingers inside of her and taking them out slowly only to dip them back in again. The witch did tend to toy around with her victims, best to send them off with some manner of pleasure after all before a short life of torment.

“You’ll be aware, you’ll feel everything. You might even silently scream and go mad, but no one will hear you. Instead, you’ll find yourself losing more and more of yourself until you forget who and what you were. In the end, your peace will be oblivion when I use up the last of your soul.” Lyaia continued, increasing the tempo of her ministrations and not stopping this time until the sacrifice found her climax.

Only when Lan would find that moment would the blade suddenly come down, the ice cold blade embedding itself in her heart. Lyaia stared directly into the other woman’s eyes, wanting to watch the final moments of her life even as she would lick the other woman’s nectar from her other fingers almost mockingly. It was a twisted ritual most certainly, but this was the easiest part really and the rest would be handled by the crystal when Lan finally did expire. Lyaia didn't even bother to learn the woman's name, she was just another stepping stone to the witch. Just another in a long line of them.

Pain or pleasure. For Len, it was a mixture of the two. From all the rumors she'd heard of the witch, the girl had always imagined the sort of fate that would await the sacrifices. She'd always thought that it'd be something grisly, that they'd but open and have their innards eaten or that perhaps they'd be bled dry. As the older woman spoke of the girl's fate, however, Len was slowly realizing that either of those two would've been far preferable to what now awaited her. Death at least had some sort of finality to it, but was this more akin to imprisonment. The idea of being trapped in a silent abyss, no people nor even guards to keep watch. Her screams would hold no sway, her senses practically blotted out. Even upon her most hated foe, the girl would not dare enact such a fate. Yet, here she was, about to suffer it. The fear was enough to make her throat go dry, her heart feeling as though it was about to beat right out of her chest. The binds had long since cut into her wrists from the girl's constant struggles, and even in the dim moonlight one could see just how clammy her skin had gone. As the frigid dagger slowly materialized in her soon-to-be murderer's hand the girl could do little more than stare wide-eyed.

At least, until the witch seemingly decided to indulge her. The girl had tensed as she felt the woman's hand slowly wander down her form, moving past her belly and between her legs. As though the witch had done this a dozen times before, the fingers teased her womanhood before going deep. Len herself trembled, biting at her lip as a faint blush came to her cheeks. She knew that the witch was mocking her, that she was trying to make her lose what little of her pride remained, but even so there was denying the woman knew just where to strike.

"Oh...oh..god..." She'd moan, "Stop, p-please." Despite her words however, Len's voice was practically dripping with pleasure. The sacrifice could feel herself growing wet, her body trembling. Yet, before she'd get the chance to fully savor the moment the dagger would descend.

"...!" There'd be no pain, just a kind of numbness. Eyes widening as far as they could, lips parting with a silent scream, she'd meet the witch's empty gaze for one final time. "I..." She wouldn't get a chance to finish. What little life remained vanish, and within moments the girl had faded. Like countless others, her soul would be nothing more than timber for the witch's magic.

---

Years continued to pass, and with it the number of sacrifices given to the witch hardly dwindled. Common sense would've dictated that the villagers should've left, and yet this was their home. Could they really dishonor their ancestors by leaving everything behind? Besides, where else could they go? The Empire was still at war with the barbarians of the north, leaving much of the land in ruins. Not to mention there was the plague as well. Hundreds had already fallen victim, their teeth turning rotten and skin becoming covered in boils. As far as the people were concerned, the villages were perhaps the 'safest' place they could be.

With the war in full swing, most mercenaries and hunters had taken up work with the main army. Yet, a few had decided to chase other pursuits. Though most kept a wide-berth from the southern woods there were a few rather brave (or foolhardy more like) hunters who decided to test their luck against the infamous witch. Anais happened to be one.

The sun had long since set by the time Anais finally reached her destination, the woods cloaked in a heavy shadow. Branches and twigs crunched beneath her leather boots, a soft frown painting her otherwise smooth features as she slowly treaded through the underbrush. It'd taken far too long to reach this damned place, fortune having apparently not favored her over the last week. There'd been the wagon-driver for one, a shrewish man who seemed to have not a speck of common-sense. Even for someone who knew not a thing about properly driving wagon, the girl was smart enough to know that driving through bandit territory because it was a 'shortcut' was asking for a knife to the gut and your valuables nicked. If it hadn't been for her own skill with a bow they both would've been dead.

A small sigh escaped her lips as she shook her head, brushing the thought to the recesses of her mind. Now she was digressing, one of the better ways to get yourself killed in a hunt such as this. The woman could feel her grip tightening around the bow nestled in her right hand, her left only just barely brushing the tips of the arrows nestled within the quiver upon her back. It was odd, actually...she would've imagined that the witch would've been quick to pounce upon an unwelcome guest and yet...there was nothing. Aside from the crickets chirping and the earth crunching beneath her feet, Anais had heard not even a peep.

Thud, thud, thud...

Her heart had begun to pound in her chest, the young woman biting at her lip as her dark brown eyes scanned the landscape around her. It was nearly midnight now, the moon having reached its peak, joining with the light from the lantern at Anais's waist to create a glow that ate away at a bit of the darkness. Yet even then that did little to ease the apprehension within her. Nearing her late twenties, the woman had dealt with all manner of nastiness during her career. Nagas who's poison could melt you from the inside out, sirens who's lull could tempt even the sturdiest of soul, and quite a few other beasts. Even principal she felt that the witch would've been the same, and yet something heavy weighed on her heart. Maybe the generous reward wasn't worth it...

More rays of moonlight through the cracks in the tree, a couple of them landing upon Anais herself. The pale light revealed a face wracked with exhaustion, deep bags hanging beneath a set of eyes that would've otherwise been beautiful. Thick, shoulder-length dark brown hair sat upon her head, pulled back into a ponytail. And there was her form, years of hunting having added a slight bit of muscle to her figure, though not enough to overwhelm her own femininity. For this particular hunt she'd dressed for mostly agility, unaware of her foe's potential. A thick tunic clung to her torso, a light leather cuirass over that. Below, it was the same, a pair of simple pants with leather armor upon the thighs. A set of boots follow, a dagger strapped to the left one, and to complete the ensemble a thick cloak was wrapped around her form, billowing slightly in the breeze. Said choice was usually enough for most of her hunts, and yet for this one...she wasn't 100% sure.

As the years passed and experiences were had, Lyaia had become extremely savvy to the nuances of monster hunters as well as the hapless fools that hired them to kill her. The most dangerous thing about the witch was her ability not to wield great powers, but to hide her true intentions. Few who laid eyes upon her had ever lived to tell the tale, and those that did tell it were often wild stories. Most often hunters possessed the most outlandish of descriptions when attempting to hunt down the great witch, not knowing that their lack of information was in fact often their greatest undoing.

The witch was aware of most everything that happened within her forest, for indeed this land was her kingdom as sure as anything. Wards were placed in specific areas, to most they would feel nothing more than a feeling as though they had stepped through a cobweb. These wards alerted their mistress whenever a human entered into her territory, and now they had drawn her to this particular section of wood deep in the night. Lyaia stepped through the underbrush, gliding through it really with very little sounds made. The witch was dressed rather raggedly, patched together animal hides making up a thick robe around her. Her bare feet padded easily along the forest floor, the occasional crunch of moss or crushed insect the only sound made.

Lyaia was nearing the spot where the wards had been activated, which meant that it was highly likely that the hunter was going to pass through the clearing she just entered into. Pale moonlight poured down upon her, her milky eyes staring upwards for a moment before she selected a tree to sit beneath. The woman was not overly concerned with hiding from this hunter; rather she preferred to hide in plain sight. Sometimes it was as a bird on a branch, other times as a fox, but now she wished to play as a human. She had a rather fun act in mind for this particular hunter and an equally fun finale.

The witch grasped ahold of the crystal around her neck, her latest victim still screaming within as her soul was trapped. She whispered under her breath in a language that sounded like the rustling of wind upon leaves, a glamour coming into existence around her. No longer a witch, her appearance changed outwardly to that of one of her previous victims from a time ago, that her name had been Lan was unknown to her. A ripped and tattered dress adorned her body and scratches completed the image as well, bruises around her wrists and ankles as well.

Lyaia allowed her head to loll to the side, starting to breathe heavily as though she had just been running for an extended period. The crystal necklace was masked as a dog collar to put a little extra touch on the charade. No longer was she Lyaia the Witch of the Forest. Now she was the escaped sacrifice, desperately seeking escape from the cruel and evil witch. If it would not have ruined the glamour she might have smiled at the cloak in which she had shielded herself. Now all she needed to do was to wait for the hunter to enter the clearing to weave her tale of woe and lure her to a place she’d never leave… at least not alive.

"H-h-help. Please..." Her voice trembled and halted, sounding soft and weak. If the hunter was anywhere beyond the brush she would hear.

Upon the soft murmurs of the wind the voice would only just barely carry the frightened words, Anais perking as they caught her attention. Slowing to a stop almost immediately, she could feel her muscles tensing. A hand reaching to draw an arrow, her other tightening around the shaft of her bow, her breath stayed in her chest as she slowly made her way forward. It sounded like someone calling for help, but who would be foolish enough to be wandering so deep into the woods? Well, aside from herself of course. She knew that the people in the surrounding villages treated it as though it were the entrance to the pits of hell, and even on the good day the farthest they'd go would be the outskirts in search of game and to forage. Then again...

Growing ever closer to the source of the noise the woman would slowly notch an arrow, biting at her lip as the bowstring slowly grew taught. Hands remaining steady despite the fear coursing through her heart, she'd use her should to push through the thick foliage before finally emerging into a small clearing. Beneath the faint glimmer of the moon, it didn't take long for the woman to lay eyes upon the source of the noise. A young girl stood the edge, battered and broken from some sort of torment. Her clothing was in rags, and each step she took the girl seemed moments away from stumbling over her own too feet. "Oh, wow."

Perhaps against her better judgement, compassion overrode pragmatism and lowering her bow Anais quickly made her way towards the seemingly broken girl. "It's okay, it's okay." Using as gentle of a tone as ever, she'd offer a shoulder to support the girl. "Where did you come from? Are you from the local villages?" She'd heard tales of people being sacrificed to the witch, if not otherwise outright kidnapped, but she'd always assumed that they'd been killed instantly. Had this girl been a captive? Had she been lucky enough to escape the witch? A bit far-fetched, but then again she'd always had a wild imagination.

The voice was always the most difficult part to get right in any glamour, fortunately she had never met this particular hunter in her life. As such she could afford to just use her own voice, though making it sound pathetic and weak. She almost wanted to smirk when the hunter offered her shoulder to her; everything so far was going according to plan. With phase one completed the witch planned out phase two, lure her back to her lair. Once there the fun could really begin, after all the hunter wanted to find the witch. She’d lead the woman right to where she wanted to go, though she doubted it would be in a manner she’d appreciate.

“I- yes… I was a sacrifice. The witch… she kept me alive. She did things to me. Made me small and kept me in a glass jar by her bed and… oh gods…” The disguised witch choked out.

“Made me big again when she got tired of me. I-I ran when she left somewhere.” She said, rather amused at her little act.

Lyaia raised her gaze up to the hunter’s own eyes, their depths looking a bit haunted as the witch tugged on the strings of the glamour. She had left the fact that the witch was away open for a reason beyond providing a credible excuse for escape. The hunter would surely recognize the value in being led to the witch’s domain when the witch was herself away. It would allow for her to possibly get the drop upon the witch, an advantage crucial in her hunt no doubt. Lyaia had to learn how the hunters normally thought in order to hunt them herself.

“Are… are you here to kill her?” The witch asked.

This was where she needed to be careful, if she herself pressed taking the hunter to her lair then the woman might get suspicious. Lyaia needed to let the hunter think that the idea came from her own mind, to use this battered slave as a guide. Truthfully she could easily just do what she wanted to do in this clearing and be done with it, the act was not necessary to continue when the hunter had her guard down like this. However it would not be as amusing just to reveal herself right now. No, she wanted to lure her to her lair and only then would the hunter realize how thoroughly tricked she had been. Then… then the fun could really begin.

"I'm...yes, I'm going to kill her." The woman's words were enough to stir a fire in Anais's belly, the woman's lips twisting into a scowl as the escapee's voice quivered with each word. She'd heard plenty of tales of the witch's evil, but to hear it firsthand was something else entirely. While it was the money that still drew her towards taking out the woman, the hunter couldn't deny that there'd be something awfully satisfying at landing an arrow right through that bitch's throat. Glancing back down the path the woman had come, her eyes would trace the barely visible path amongst the foliage. If what the woman said was true, the witch's domain was empty. If she could get there before the woman returned she'd have the opportunity to get the lay of the land, to hide in wait and go for the witch as soon as the woman had her back turned.

"Listen, um." Turning back about, she'd meet the poor girl's eyes. "I know that you only just escaped, and you're eager to get out of these damned woods as soon as possible, however-" The longer she looked upon the girl, the more the hunter was put off. The girl herself seemed normal, as normal as a captive of the witch could be at least, but there was something about her eyes. Beneath the nearly palpable fear, there seemed to be something missing. Was it just Anais's own nerves acting up? "Ah, um. However, if you could tell me where her domain is I can promise you that no on else will have to suffer because of her. I promise."