by Douglas Black

Created on: June 08, 2009   Last Updated: June 12, 2009

SHADOW ART

Evaniel Caprice reached down with trembling hands, brushing away the darkened ash that was fashioned into a thin ring around his beloved bride. Her body lay cold like stone, frozen in a slumber of living-death. Through streams of grief stricken tears, he knelt down on bended knee, gently placing his lips on hers, embracing her with one last sweet kiss. Somberly, he wept, hoping that somehow even in Grace's comatose state, she could still feel the outpour of his unwavering love.

Pausing just a brief moment, he stood in silence, amazed that even in death her pristine beauty had remained in tact. All that was left now was the brooding anger erupting inside, commingled with the pang of guilt for deceiving his wife all those years. He had always considered telling his wife the truth about what he was, but the fear of losing her was too much of a chance to take. If only there was a simple spell or incantation that could undo the treachery that had befallen his beloved Grace. But unfortunately he knew all too well that even the darkest magic could not tempt time, undoing a curse such as this had only one solution; he had to kill the tempest that had bestowed it. This would also mean in order to kill the vile hag he also must be prepared to wage battle with a very formidable foe.

One such Dark Caster capable of such power was Rhiannon, an eldest member of the Dark Caster coven. Evaniel knew she was only one among the many members who were opposed to his union with a human. But would Rhiannon be capable of committing such a despicable act of war? Evaniel couldn't imagine any Witch or Wizard, whom would dare tipping the balance between the Light Scriber's and the Dark Caster's. Neither coven would be so forgiving, destroying the treaty that had bound the two factions in peace for well-over seventeen centuries.

"I will avenge you my love." Evaniel quickly turned, heading toward the stairs, shedding his human skin once again for the first time since he left the rocky shores of Southwold, England during the summer of 1066.

He could still remember, standing within the fortified walls of Dover Castle as the Royal Army gathered outside. Even though the English were already preparing for an unconditional surrender, William the Conqueror still ordered his men to send volleys of fire tipped arrows, setting the castle ablaze. Evaniel despised the humans back then, especially for how quickly their loyalties were tossed asunder, all for the sake of

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