The Spellcaster

Prologue

She sat at the top of a circle, her followers surrounding her, enclosing in on the stone table she sat at. They all waited patiently, like wild cats stalking their prey. Behind her, a glowing heat radiated from a fire, warming the room. She surveyed her followers anticipated faces, watching every sliver of hope in their eyes; each twitch of excitement.

Her daughter sat opposite her at the end of the table, though she didn't look very much alike her mother. Her hair was a cascading waterfall of naturally dark red curls, which ended just below her breasts. She had a smile bigger than all of her mother's followers faces, even though she had seen her mother's performing act many times before. Her bright white smile seemed to reach up to her ears - but there was a hint of mischievousness behind her eyes, like she was about to cause trouble. From her eyes, her nose was pointed yet rounded at the edges, and dotted with freckles. Below her nose lay a set of heart-shaped lips that were thin and red, partly due to her makeup. But below her crimson façade of lipstick, she had inherited a mouth that was thin and pain-tightened, more a peach colour than a blood red.

Her jawline was pointed at her chin, and from there her slender neck dropped down into her slender shoulders, which elongated into her slender arms; her slender wrists; and finally, her slender fingers. Her frame was thin, but not thin enough to be frail; it was more thin enough to be beautiful. Her corset hugged the edges of her waist, showing the perfect curves of her torso. Her legs were long and elegant, but they still looked in proportion with the rest of her body.

Her mother, however, had a slightly thinner figure, and she wore clothes that seemed the opposite of her daughter's. Her daughter wore a dark green, floor-length velvet gown, which had a corset lacing up the back itself, and a brown under-bust corset which served only to show off her figure even more. Despite her daughter's apparent wealth within the clothes she wore, her mother looked as if she had carelessly cut up an old potato sack and made it into a dress. She hadn't, of course; they were just old clothes that were torn and frayed at the sides from wear. Where her daughter's face was pretty and youthful, full of soft features, her face was full of wrinkles and all sharp angles. She seemed almost gaunt, which made her look like she hadn't been eating well, but it was just one of the sad things about her old age. Although, through the façade of her wrinkling old face and greying hair, there was still a playful spark inside her bright blue eyes, as if she felt that she was still in her youth.

Her followers ranged from young to old - the youngest must have been just around the age of 15, a frail boy whose father was a butcher in the village. The oldest was a woman named Lynnde, whose face looked as if it had seen many more days than the woman whom she followed and adored. Some of them had been inside the parlour before, but for many of them, they were just starting out in the world inside their own everyday lives.

To anyone walking in on the scene, it would have seemed like a normal friendly gathering. Along the shelves that adorned the room, glass bottles were filled with wine and freshly-made iced tea, and snacks as such as grapes and apples stayed where the bottles couldn't fit. The people were all laughing and joking, talking about the little things in their mundane lives - what their children were doing, how their jobs were, and so on. It would have seemed like a conventional scene where a few friends had gathered for a drink and a talk, if it weren't for the dead body that the woman had placed on the table.

Suddenly, all eyes were on her. The room fell silent, apart from the few whispers of confusion from the newcomers; the ones that hadn't been there before.

"Is it starting?" a small woman whispered to someone who they knew had seen this act happen before. The man quickly dismissed the question with a flick of his hand, and a finger to his lip to signify to the woman that it was time to be quiet.