The Witch's Soul-Stone

Her soul was glowing, even a mortal could see that. He had not truly believed the legends, but there it was, the heart-shaped locket carefully dangling from her neck, glowing as she cast the spell that would render the man opposite her unconscious.

Not in his superbly long life had he the occasion to witness a witch's soul glow. It was said that it wasn't until a witch was truly alone did she loose the vivacity her kind possessed, her soul providing the source of her magic rather than her coven. All witches were born into a coven, very few ever left, and all were defined by how they wore their soul-stone. He had heard the Heart-Sisters were a hardy bunch, fighting against the flames as they roared across the Australian continent every few weeks.

But here she was, all alone. How strange, he mused, content to watch the scene develop as he sipped from his glass, that one of those fiery creatures should look so very small and fragile. Once, when he was young, his mother had tried to teach him the ways of a gentleman, offering a helping hand to women who looked so very much like they required it, but several centuries had passed since then and most modern woman detested those manners that had once made him the talk of the town. As the last man to try and engage with her had ended up in a dreamless state, snoring gently with his head in a puddle of something sticky on the table in front of her, he supposed he wouldn't intervene.

An alert flashed above the bar pulling him from his thoughts; 'Curfew begins in one hour, please ensure your overnight safety'; he scowled at the screen, sipping once again from his glass. He detested the scrolling text a little more each time he saw it. Twenty-five years ago he and his brethren, the biggest werewolf pack in Melborne had collaborated with other packs, and covens, around the world. The time had come for a change of pace, for the humans to learn that they were not alone and that the world was not theirs to waste.

It had not gone as well as hoped. The third distinguished species of the supernatural world, the vampires, had refused to take part, instead they had wished to take a neutral position, despite the crushing need to bring the humans destructive natures to a halt. At the time he had thought they wished to maintain their stream of food, rather than stem the rate at which the humans reproduced. He had failed to realise the vamps had been acting, causing devastating consequences for his own community. The vampires had made sure that the werewolves and witches were fully committed with containing the defeated humans before they moved from the shadows. That movement had been directed at the unsuspecting backs of werewolves and witches and so many of his brethren had lost their lives in the weeks that followed.

Anyone who had thought vampires were contained by the mid-day sun or had a weakness that was easily exploited was wrong, they had wiped his admittedly already tired, fighting forces out on the hottest day of the year. The tactic they used had utilised the vamps inability to be affected by temperature, dehydrating and fatiguing the werewolves and witches - geography had always favoured the winner he bitterly told himself. He had thought them not moved by the plight of the climate of the world, had assumed them unaffected by tornadoes and volcanoes. But, the two things he had forgotten was that vamps wanted power and they didn't like to share. What better way to seize power than from those who were tired from the fight?

The curfew was a way of controlling the populace, forcing the humans to hide away at night in fear of the bogeyman, a way to control those like him, as they had widely allowed it to be that they were night-time only creatures, hunting for the blood of those still on the street. The city-wide security, armed with weapons that curtailed his own supernatural powers, made sure no uprising from his kind came to the fore. Those blood-sucking corpses had brought the whole world under their enthral within days and had begun the ever growing fight against climate change that had begun the war in the beginning.

They had culled far more humans than he himself had intended to. Those too old, too sick or too weak were gone in the first months, their blood running through the dead veins of their murderers. The unwise and powerful were next to disappear. But still, the fires, floods, earthquakes and storms continued for the humans had devastated the world and, those like him, who understood the importance of the world they lived on, had not acted soon enough.

Covens like the Heart-Sisters, who's talents lay with fire, attempted to mitigate the damage of the extreme weather as best they could. With Australia still getting hotter each year, it was all they could do to keep the cities from burning too. And with that one lonely coven member sat at the other end of the bar, he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the rest of them and what would happen if she were the only one left.

Her eyes flicked to his, some witches were sensitive to the thought directions of others, and he hadn't been guarding his. She glared at him, assessing him, probing him with her magic and abruptly scraped her chair back, standing and gliding in his direction, her long fire-proof coat flaring out behind her like a cloak. He raised an eyebrow at her movements and settled down further into his seat, his pose showing his confidence in his own skin. He kicked the stool opposite him out from under the table so that she could sit, unconcerned at the thought of her attempting to use her magic on him.

Her soul-stone, contained in her enchanted heart locket, pulsed as she sat. They remained there, silently, for several minutes, until the waitress brought over a tall glass for the witch.

'You were right to worry,' the witch began as she watched the waitress walk away; 'about what would happen were my sisters to be lost.' He stayed silent, not willing to speak yet. 'Pesky creatures, those vamps. They're planning something, something that needs soul-stones. They already have my sisters'.' More death, more destruction, he thought to himself, holding her eye contact as they each waited for the other to speak.

'Of course, as Duncan McKain, I assume you'd be in the know. But it seems you are none the wiser as to what is happening in those vaulted manors they've kept for themselves...' She paused momentarily, a hesitation he wouldn't have caught had he not been a wolf. 'Especially as the Ice-Sisters have also lost their souls.' He felt his heart grow heavy, she was right, he should have known, he'd put himself in the leader-role of the resistance after all. He hadn't kept his ear to the ground for quite some time now, having grown weary of the fight.

But whatever those fanged creatures wanted from witches soul-stones, was not going to be good. The whole world was already enslaved to their every whim, what else could they possibly hope to achieve, especially wiping the out the specialities required to keep the world from burning or drowning. Did he really have the stomach to get his head back in the fight? Did he have the power and the pull left, or was he a shell of world-leading Alpha he'd once been?

She didn't wait for him to reply, she knew he was the one supernatural creature who had even a tiny, remote chance of rallying the underworld, of bringing the war back to the vampires and avenging her fallen sisters. 'I only have one question for you,' she said far more calmly than she felt inside. 'As the last of the Heart-Sisters and as the last Alpha, what are we going to do about it?'