Huntress of The Damned

Mira's POV 

The White Coven: 

The heavy wind blew across my hair as I pushed the door's handle. 

The chimes jiggled loudly. I stepped in and all the women stopped chanting. Their dark clothes make everything eerie. 

Their heads suddenly turned to look at me. I stood still and noticed her, the high priestess at the altar. 

She raised her head revealing her dark shoulder length hair and thick eye liner. 

“Mira Alexander!!!” She yelled. 

I shuddered at the tone of her voice. She just had to be that loud. “Yes, priestess.”

Her light brown eyes shot fear into me. She closed the heavy spell book. “You're late!” her raspy voice raged. 

Oh, goodness. I couldn't escape her drama today. 

I gave a weak smile, avoiding their gazes and walked forward, then bowed at her front. “I'm sorry, priestess. I was busy…”

“Enough of your excuses. Join the line,” she instructed. I gulped and straightened up. 

She dropped the spellbook on the stand and clicked her fingers. The door closed shut and the lighted candles got brighter. 

“A few of our spies discovered a demon energy at the southern city,” the high priestess announced. “And you all know the rules. What are they?” 

“Slay all demons! Have no mercy! Banish the evil from our sights!” We blurted. 

“Good,” she said calmly, and took a step down the podium. “We can't let them live. Which is why I will be sending one of you to the southern city.”

The other women and I turned to look at each other. No one wanted that. It was filled with wolves and dark witches. 

“But priestess. We don't know the Southern City well,” Amanda, one of the witches, said. 

“I know,” the priestess replied, and smiled. “That is why we will use the name box.”

She clapped her hands gently and a white transparent box appeared. Inside were papers. 

“Inside the box are papers that would define your fate. So…” she said, “good luck.”

I gulped. I hated the sound of that with all my heart. Her hand rested on the top of the open box and she smiled. “Begin,” She commanded. 

No one moved. Her eyes glazed around and then she spoke. “Denise, come forward.”

The blood walked forward, dipped her hand into the box and pulled out a paper. I waited, watching her unwrap it and she smiled. “It's not me.”

“Amber,” the priestess called. The red Head climbed the stairs and picked a paper. 

She was shaking as she opened the paper and then spoke with a relaxed happy voice. “Not me, either.”

Then the next one climbed and another until…

I was the only one left. My heart pounded loudly in my chest. I stared at the last paper in the glass box. 

“Mira,” she called my name, her finger gesturing for me to move. “Come forward.”

I raised my head, swallowing hard and began to walk towards the box. My hand shook as I reached for the paper. I picked it and slowly opened it. 

My eyes widened in horror as I stared at the words. “Chosen.”

Shit! 

Her footsteps grew in my ear. I felt her warm hand touch my shoulder and she spoke with a cold voice. “Speak. What did you get?”

“I…I…,” I stuttered, raising the paper. “It's me. I got chosen.”

The priestess voice rose. “Very well. You will go.”

The women gasped and I felt my heart pounded a million times over. “But, I have never…”

“You will learn,” she said. “Find the demon energy and kill it.”

Her eyes went colder. “You have ninety days. If you fail you lose your powers as a witch and will be removed from the coven.”

“What?” I spat. “How can I…?”

“Do you question me?” She retorted. 

I gulped, and shook my head. “No, priestess,” I breathed. 

“Then it is settled. You leave tonight.”

My eyes widened again and I wanted to protest. But she was already reciting the spell. 

“Gaoth na seanchroí, éirigh anois,

Fuil na cloiche, glór na gaoithe, glaoigh.”

“Wait…how will I know him?” I yelled against the growing whirlwind surrounding me. 

“De réir fola, de réir ceangail,

Oscail an veil, bris an slabhra, scaoil an t-anam.”

“Priestess!” I yelled but the heavy wind dragged my words. 

“Cas, a ghaoth, mar roth na ndéithe, Folaigh an corp, fág an rian briste.

I gcumhacht an cheo is i scáth na réalta,

Imigh anois—agus ná filleadh.”

I twirled violently into the heavy wind, my body flying against my strength. 

It stopped and I fell to the floor. I rose, feeling the pain of my bleeding palm caused from scalding them on the road. 

I rose to my feet, looking around. My lips parted as I gasped. I was…in the middle of the road. 

Beep! Beep! 

My heart skipped a beat and I turned to the sound. A bright light blinded me as I stepped back but…it was too late. 

The car sped fast, knocking me off my feet. I felt my body fly and then fall to the floor rolling a few times before stopping. 

My eyes blinked slowly, the blood pooling on the floor. My sight turned blurry. I saw a faded figure step out of the car and someone rushed to my side. 

The crowd rushed and I heard screams. “Oh my God! Someone call an ambulance!” 

My eyes closed slowly, as I strained to keep them open. A pair of dark shoes came closer and the sounds died.

I forced myself to look at his face. It was cold and expressionless as he looked down at me. 

My eyes closed welcoming the darkness.