Author's note:
This story is a collaboration written by Legendary_Champion RhylanWriter and myself.

The girl was aroused from her slumber by an ice cold hand on her bare arm. She opened her eyes and blinked, trying to shake the sleepiness from her head, when she registered the wide-eyed face of her mother hovering in front of her.   

“Get up dear,” she whispered, gently pulling the girl into a sitting position, “We have to leave now.”

 The girl yawned and rubbed her brilliant blue eyes, intelligent for a girl of her age, her chestnut coloured hair cascading down her shoulders.

“Mom, did Ms. Smith break a bone in the middle of the night again?” she asked smiling slightly, as she quickly slipped into a pair of trousers and tunic.

“No Evie, it’s far more serious,” Her mother replied, her voice grave as she ushered the girl through the tiny door at the back of the house, a tiny bundle of rare herbs in her hand. The smile dropped from Evie’s face as they stepped outside, the cool autumn air whipping her hair into her eyes.

“Mother,” she asked with a slight tremble to her voice, “What’s wrong?”

“Hurry up!” Her mother replied, holding her hand tightly as she led her through the streets in the dark at a brisk pace. The only source of light was the moon - a full moon - therefore tonight her mother’s powers would be at its peak. It gave the town a ghostly aura, and Evie could not suppress a shiver. Something did not feel right, and her mother was acting so strange…

“Mother!” she exclaimed, much more loudly this time, causing her mother to stop in her tracks, “What is wrong? Why are we leaving?”

Her mother’s blue eyes - so much like her own - were wild with fear something Evie had never witnessed before. She pressed a cold hand to her daughter’s face and opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a gruff voice coming from behind them.

“You are not going anywhere, witch!” The man said, spitting out the word as though it was filth. He wore gleaming armour was embolized with the sigil of His Royal Highness on the breastplate. He was huge, a torch blazing in his left hand and a dangerous looking sword in the other. He had a thick layer of stubble covering his broad jaws, and a piece of his left ear was missing. A crescent-shaped scar marred his face, from his forehead to his chin, adding to his ferocity. He was none other than, Greylord, The Witch Hunter.

“Run!” Her mother yelled, shoving her in the opposite direction. She listened to her mother’s command and began stumbling blindly in the other direction, when she heard the sound of several more voices coming from behind her. She ran faster, tears streaming down her face. She was confused, scared, and running for her life. The stomping of boots against the cobblestones grew louder, and she tripped on a rock, falling face first to the ground.

She tasted blood and her lip was throbbing slightly. Small pebbles stuck in her palms and she had bruised her knees, but she hardly felt her injuries as she scrambled to her feet and ran towards the marketplace, briefly catching a glimpse of the knights following her.

The marketplace was silent except for the sound of her gasping for breath and her boots against the stone. The many days she spent helping her mother with the apothecary stall gave her a great knowledge of the layout of the market, unlike the Knights from the capital.

She scrambled towards the Bakery, where she knew there were bricks that could be used as perfect footholds. She scaled the wall as quickly as her shaking muscles allowed her, disappearing on to the roof just before the Knights came clanging around the corner.

She collapsed on the roof, still gasping for breath when the thought hit her.

She wildly looked around, searching for her mother but to no avail. She stifled the urge to shout her mother’s name out loud when she noticed light coming from the middle of the square.

Everyone was there in their bed clothes with lit torches in their hands, screaming.

Witch.

Demon.

Devil.

The villagers screamed as the Witch Hunters led the woman into a cell in the prison.

Mother.

She whispered, the word dying on her lips. They were going to kill her mother.

***

They led the accused through the streets of the town, her hands and feet bound in iron manacles. She held her head high and accepted her fate, trying to show strength though inside she trembled in fear. The crowd of people that lined the street to watch the spectacle, spit at her and threw rotten vegetables or worse at her as she passed.

In front on the cathedral, there stood the pyre that would be her death.  A large post had been erected and stood high above the ground, casting an ominous finger-like shadow towards her. At the base of the post a platform of logs and sticks covered in pitch awaited her.

The escort that had marched her from her cell in the prison now lifted her into place. Her hands were stretched over her head the chain that bound them hung over a hook high above on the post. The chain at her feet was connected to a loop at the base of the pole so that she was unable to move.

“Any last words, witch?” the priest asked benevolently.

She just stared out into the crowd trying not to show her fear. Her eyes scanned the mass of people in search of her daughter. How she hated for the child to bear witness to this. When she found her, their eyes locked in a wordless apology.

“To Hell with you then, witch! May your soul burn for eternity.” The priest yelled loud enough to be heard by all.

The mob cheered as the torches were thrown at her feet, the flames lighting the pitch in a slow teasing manner.  The fire licked at her legs and set her skirt ablaze. The pain was agonizing; she let out a shrill scream that rose above the noise of the blaze. Soon her screaming stopped as she passed out from the pain, a small mercy as she met her fate.

The young girl stared in awe and disgust. Her mother had done nothing wrong. Was this her repayment for years of helping people? The flames rose higher and the dark smoke billowed upward, carrying the stench of burning flesh and hair. The scent made her want to wretch and the vision of her mother’s burning body made her want to cry, but she did neither. She simply watched on in horror as more wood and pitch were added to stoke the flames. The chants and jeers of the crowd were like a punch to the gut that knocked the breath from her.

Slowly the crowd began to disperse and the people returned to their mundane chores. Their entertainment for the day had come to an end. Evie stood stock still, tears rolling down her cheeks. She could not bring herself to move.

A kindly old man placed his hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be alright dear, she’s gone to a better place,” he said trying in vain to comfort her.

Evie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and nodded, more out of reflex than anything.

She made her way home not knowing how she got there, blocking out the rest of the world as best she could. She threw herself down on her roughly made wooden bed and drifted of into darkness alone.

***

Evie awoke to a scratching at the door. Startled she made her way tentatively across the room. “Who’s there?” She called out.

No answer.

She opened the door a crack and peered out into the moonlit street. No one was there.

Meeeeooooow

Evie jumped back at the sound. Glancing down at her feet she saw a gray spotted tabby with large green eyes staring up at her. She let out a short laugh at herself for being so frightened by this harmless creature.

“Come in kitty,” she said bending down to pet the cat. “You look hungry; let's find something to eat.”

From the cabinet, she pulled out a  bowl and placed it on the ground for the cat. Evie found in the larder a bit of salted meat and placed small morsels in the bowl, taking the rest to a small pot that hung over the fireplace. She added some potatoes and cabbage and filled the pot with water from the pitcher near the sink. Evie lit the fire with a sharpened piece of chert struck against the iron striker for it had gone out with no one to tend it the night before.

The cat weaved it’s way between Evie’s feet, rubbing against her legs in thanks for the fine meal. She picked the cat up and stroked its soft fur causing the cat to purr in contentment. Putting the cat down Evie returned to the pot to stir the soup. Behind her the cat pawed at a leather strap hanging from the night stand by her mother’s bed. The cat jumped back when the book that was attached to the strap fell to the floor with a thud.

“Stop that!” Evie yelled at the cat as she ran over to pick up the book.

She sat on the edge of her mother’s bed and clenched the book to her chest as if she were holding her mother tight. The tears began to roll down her cheeks and she let out a defeated sob.  Once she had calmed herself down she opened the book and began to read…

***

5 years later

She crept in the shadows like a wraith, her feet hardly making a sound against the cobblestones as she slipped through the city, unseen to those passers-by. Those crazy enough to be wandering the streets on this night.

They called it a blue moon. It occurred every two to three years, when all the magic in their god-forsaken world was at its peak.

A perfect night for summoning the dead.

She hid in the shadows, waiting for a specific person to come staggering down the street, drunk from one too many tankards of ale.

Evie grimaced in the darkness when she heard his uneven footfalls approaching. She had to get this done quickly.

As soon as he was a hand’s distance away from her, she rammed the hilt of her dagger into his head, effectively knocking him out. He collapsed to the ground, and she quickly dragged his heavy body into an alley.

His eyes were almost the exact same colour as her mother’s, which was why she needed it. She needed his eye. She carefully poured a few drops of the potion she brewed earlier into his mouth, hoping it would numb the pain she was about to inflict. Muttering a silent apology, she then carved out one of his eyes and gently put it into a vial.

Four out of the five major ingredients. The last one was the worst, but she would do anything to get her mother back.

***

The child slept soundly in her bed, cuddling her blanket. Her wild mop of blond hair tumbled onto her face, causing her to look younger than her five years.

It was five years since Evie’s mother died, and only death can repay for life. The child’s parents were sleeping soundly, confident that their child was safe. But she was not.

Evie held the dagger over the child’s exposed throat, breathing hard. She had to do it now before she lost the resolve. Saying a silent prayer for the innocent child, she didn't even know the name of. Evie brought her blade down, slicing the girl’s throat, with hardly any sound. A quick silent death. The least she could have done for the child.

Blood seeped through the girl’s nightclothes, spreading on the white bedsheet. The blood of an innocent, now tainted Evie’s heart. She knew a part of her humanity died with the child, as she uncorked another vial, collecting the still-warm blood before it fell to the floor.

She wrapped the child’s body in her blankets to dispose of it. Erasing any evidence of her encounter. Her parents were better off thinking that the girl had run off rather than the horrible fact that she was murdered.

As she slung the dead body over her shoulder, she wondered to herself, what had she become?

***

Everything was ready, everything was perfect.

She drew a pentagram on the ground, using the blood of the child; connecting each point to form a circle. There were five witchstones at each point, helping to focus the witch’s energy. In the centre of the pentagram, there rested a cauldron bubbling above the fire. The cat at the back of the room hissed, and crawled into a corner of the cage.

The light of the moon filtered through the window on the opposite side of the room, its beams landing directly on the top of the cauldron.

Taking a deep breath, she began chanting. Softly at first, but soon gaining momentum as she put in the ingredients one after the other. Three strands of hair that matched her mother’s, an eyeball, blood of an innocent child, an animal she wanted to bond her mother’s spirit to and lastly an item belonging to her mother. She ripped the necklace off her neck and tossed it in.

The mixture in the cauldron smelled foul, and produced a thick black smoke, as she continued to mix and chant the necessary words. It was a blood red shade, bubbling and splattering on Evie’s face, but she did not flinch. Her mother would be back tonight.

Suddenly the dark smoke above the cauldron, began to thicken and take a form. Before she knew it, a spitting image of her mother before she died stood before her. Evie’s breath caught in her throat for a minute, finally seeing her mother besides in her dreams. Happy tears flowed from her eyes, but she did not stop chanting. Her mother-or the illusion of her mother-reached up and touched her cheek gently. It felt like a wisp of wind, just a little fouler smelling.

Finally, finally, the spell would be over. Evie was drained, she could feel the exhaustion in her bones, but she said the last word to complete the spell, “Revivisco”

The room exploded with light, and Evie shielded her eyes to prevent herself from becoming blind. She cautiously lowered her hands from her face, unable to breathe to breathe from the anticipation.

Hesitantly, she peeked into the cauldron to find the body of the gray cat curled up in the centre, its fur matted with blood.  It opened its blue eyes, not cat eyes, but human eyes, and stared at her.

“M...mother?” She asked, reaching forward to touch the cat.

The cat looked at her, and she swore she could see love in its eyes.

It opened its mouth, and with her mother’s voice it said, “Yes, Evie dear. It’s me. And tonight, our vengeance begins.”