by Jeff Woodward

Created on: December 10, 2008

Ritual of Fire

It's red eyes pierce the forest as I push myself harder into the shadows, my face pressing against the bark of an oak tree until I feel my cheek go numb. Seconds seem like minutes as I wait, half expecting the robed figure with the piercing red eyes to grab my neck from behind. I can feel my heart beginning to burst with fear, hoping the sweat beading on my brow won't make a sound as it hits the forest floor. Losing patience, I risk a peek around the oak. The robed figure is still standing in the same spot, along with three others, all in similar dress. The only differences I can make between them are the animal-like skulls that are adorning each of their heads, covering them to the base of their necks. Fantastical and impossible are these skull-masks; a charcoal black, cow-like skull, with the horns of a goat, is upon the one with the red-eyes. His companions are both adorned with similar skulls, though lacking horns and sporting exaggerated fang-like teeth, sprouting from skulls that are as white as bleach. Their captives are sitting on the ground, five feet or so from the crackling fire that the sinister beings are encircled around. A quick glance through the underbrush shows me two of their intended victims are males, the other female. They seem to be in their early twenties; young, fresh bodies that were too easy to lure with the promise of drugs and alcohol. They are all gagged, with hands fastened behind their backs. My view of them is skewed, though I can see their faces well enough, and from their ankles down. The muffled whimpering of the female begins to pull my heart from my chest, and I consciously put my hand to my mouth to stifle the cry that begins to rise in my throat. "Quiet, please girl, be strong just a bit longer. It'll be over soon." I think the words so loudly that I subconsciously hope the robed-ones haven't heard.

With a hushed sigh of relief, it seems I am still undetected. Thank the gods there is no moon tonight, else this situation could have taken a terrible turn for the worse. As my nerves begin to compose themselves, I absentmindedly thumb the clasp holding my dagger in it's sheath, silently pulling out the foot long blade. I grasp the knife tightly at my side, feeling the strength begin to surge through it into my left arm, the warmth continuing through my shoulder, finally settling in my chest. Many lives has this blade claimed, all enemies of the Light, and perpetrators of evil deeds. It is quite insatiable when

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