The next day, it was a surprisingly cold night in Lancashire, England, as almost winter paid an early visit to the sleepy town. One of the cottages in the countryside lay with a pair of young females, with one holding a baby.

  She had hot pink hair, white-brown eyes, and a dark-skinned complexion. She was even wearing a red and black gothic-inspired dress. She was holding a baby in one hand while reading off her smartphone in another.

  The young woman told the newborn baby, “The Umbra Witches are a clan of European dark art practitioners from ancient times. Their affinity is to Inferno, darkness, and the moon. Making pacts with demons to possess their extraordinary abilities, the umbra witches are fluent in using the Bullet Arts as a fighting technique and abilities such as Witch Time.

  “Through the harnessing of Spirit Energy, Umbra Witches are practitioners of magic revolving around the influence of the moon and the evocation of beings from Inferno. While well-versed in the supernatural and metaphysical arts, they are also keen in the arts of alchemy, chemistry, acrobatics, firearms training, medicine, anatomical health, and various sciences and technological prowess of many sorts to temper and refine their body and soul in the process of handling the powerful forms of magic that they would come to wield.

  “The Umbra Witches are an all-female clan of witches as per namesake; their ranks included only those who could harness spirit energy by birth and those who were strong enough to survive their brutal training and study courses.

  “Children born in the witches’ homeland of Crescent Valley were taught the workings of Spirit Energy from a young age and would thus manifest abilities--if they had them--earlier than children born elsewhere, although what constitutes an “earlier” age is unspecified. Upon becoming a woman, a trainee would take the “Witchly Vows” and become a full-fledged umbra witch. However, some candidates of particular skill and achievement could take their vows much earlier.

  “To gain their power, all Umbra Witches are required to make a pact with an infernal demoness to sponsor them and improve their power, allowing them to summon the limbs of their sponsor to attack their enemies. The demon’s silhouette then replaces the witch’s shadow to represent this pact. When the witch dies, her soul goes directly to Inferno as part of their contract.

  “Besides their sponsor, umbra witches may also summon other demons from Inferno by using a medium such as their hair and chanting a magic spell. It would seem that these chants, spoken in Enochian, are unique from witch to witch; the sponsoring demon might grant them or be an invention of the witch herself.

  “The Umbra Witch’s special ability called Witch Time allows them to slow down time for everyone except other Umbra Witches. Witches usually activate this ability in beneficial moments after dodging an enemy attack. They can also use Witch Walk whenever the moon casts its glow, allowing them to defy gravity and walk on any vertical or horizontal surface. According to Antonio’s Notes, it was said that these powers were obtained from their demons instead of the moon itself.

  “Witches can also use the Beast Within that allows them to transform into different animals such as felines and birds. Because of their knowledge of the Bullet Arts, Witches possess great weapon knowledge to master any they pick up. Their supernatural connections to the underworld give them incredible strength, acrobatic skills, and lightning-fast reflexes. Umbra witches are also well versed in herbology and can concoct items that can heal them, increase their strength and everlasting magic power.”

  Then, the young woman pays attention to her newborn as it falls asleep.

  The young woman was pleased by the outcome, “There, she’s fast asleep.”

  Hearing that story was a bit embarrassing for Marco, wow... someone likes Bayonetta a bit too much. She thought.

  “Wow, Lydia, that story is a bit out there, don’t you think?” Marco criticizes with a cute smile.

  However, the dark-skinned woman named Lydia wrinkled her nose at her, "I'm only telling her the story my mother told me, Marco. I find it quite... What's the word? Oh yes! Flattering that they would create such fodder."

  Marco nodded, “Well, they have to sell their merchandise some. I find it unsettling that they would lie about it--”

  “Nothing is unsettling about who we are!” Lydia snapped, quickly calmed herself, and smiled, “People like this stuff nowadays.”

  This worried Marco, “even now, what’s happening worldwide?” With an intense glare from Lydia, Marco had to change her mind not to upset her anymore. “Fine, forget I asked...”

  This made Lydia smile again, "You keep praying for the worst, and it will happen. Stop being such a worrywart."

  “I guess...” Marco relented.

  "I want you to make yourself useful and take the baby upstairs. I have a present for you when you come back down," Lydia offered.

  Rising from the couch, Marco takes the baby from Lydia. The baby doesn't have a proper name yet since it's been almost a year since Lydia had it. She is still in tune with the lore of witches. The one she is bound to will give her a name and her baby will be bound to it.

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  As for Marco, it felt that this would be a long night with another deeply engrossed fan of the lifestyle. Even though she and Lydia are fellow "witches" in their community circle, Marco isn't always in tune with the dark arts and usually with several things in the most practical way. She was considered to be the real deal. Such arts and abilities came easily as she had never studied a day. Lydia was a different case as she was a fan who delved deep into the lifestyle.

  Even though Marco was Lydia like a sister to her and vice versa, there's always been a tinge of jealousy and resentment between the two. Even though they were brought up the same way, they splintered heavily into two different worlds.

  Even Lydia's home screamed, "I'm a witch!" Meanwhile, Marco—and real Wiccans generally— stayed low-key and under the radar. But Marco understood what Lydia wanted to do. She wanted her kind to be integrated into Society. That wouldn't happen with the Third Revelation pushing their propaganda to exterminate every nephalem. And since their kind has been categorized as nephalems, they have been hunted down by extermination squads known as “Ace Slayers.” Whatever they called themselves, they were murderers.

  Marco finally made it up to the baby's room, and it looked like someone had spent too much time decorating the room like it was a part of Tim Burton's The Night Before Halloween. Marco carefully sets the baby down in her crib, and she falls fast asleep.

  “Let’s hope you don’t get any nightmares...” Marco whispered as she left the room quietly.

  She was very envious of Lydia's beautiful baby as she was one of the reasons she returned to this sleepy village of fake witches, as Marco loved to call it. But deep down, they were harmless good people.

  Going down the steps, the living room was filled with a pungent smell. It was only one or two things; knowing Lydia, she had an army surplus.

  Marco went to the kitchen and saw Lydia hard at work making drinks. She works as a bartender at the local pub, and with her charm, she can make at least a couple of thousand a night just off tips alone.

  "I make you my special, Marco!" Lydia announces. "It's going to be your birthday soon! I hope you pick out your present!"

  Marco's birthday is on Halloween, which is silly because of who and what she is. She never really celebrated Halloween like it was truly Halloween. But she always had nice, quiet birthdays. Also, the present she wanted was a bit personal as she checked her smartphone for an important text or call from her doctor.

  Lydia handed her a glass as Marco hesitated to accept it, "it's absinthe. You put absinthe in this ginger ale."

  “Of course I did. Something that will take the edge off..." Lydia nonchalantly admits while taking a sip of her drink.

  They both sat around the table as they drank their fill.

  Lydia had much to say about her best friend, “I’m glad you showed up... This little town has been dead without you!”

  Marco hated that she was shunned by the Stygian Society, "No, it has not," she denied. "I had a job in the city. Paid well, rent-controlled apartment. But I just had to leave here--"

  "Because you are scared!" Lydia accuses. "And I don't know why you are scared. If you fully give yourself to the moon goddess—and I know she is waiting for you because she wants you—Marco, you will be unstoppable! You can defeat these basketcases!”

  "And what about you, Lydia? Staying here and 'fighting the good fight' after your husband died? Let me remind you that he wasn't even a witch, nephalem, or nether-user. They killed him just because he was a human sympathizer like you." Marco counterpointed.

  Lydia glared at her friend again, "I have too much to lose here, and if I leave now, where am I going to go? Hiding in some sewer in the city? I would rather die here than ever run."

  After finishing her drink, Lydia gets up and walks toward the pitcher.

  “It’s not called cowardice if it means protecting your daughter,” Marco argued.

  “And make her out to be something that she’s not?” Lydia bellowed as she downed her drink.

  “You make it sound like--”

  “Another nobody who just lives autonomously with no direction, unless, of course, if you’re on social media--”

  Then abruptly stopped talking as a sudden wisp of air came out of Lydia's left shoulder. Then, she started to bleed profusely from her shoulder. She just stood there stunned, with a slight grimace on her face.

  This worried Marco as she didn’t have time to act as the lights were cut off, and the room was immediately pitch black.

  It only meant one thing to Marco, “Lydia, get down!” Following her advice, she ducked underneath the table.

  Unfortunately, Lydia didn't have time to react as a rain of bullets entered the room, tearing her apart. Marco didn't have to watch her best friend being torn apart by a relentless barrage of gunfire. All she could see was the blood dripping and spilling on the floor.

  Lydia finally fell to the ground because she slipped and fell on her blood face first. The bullets still reigned in the kitchen as they tore everything apart. Marco's gut instinct was to take the baby and run. But alas, she hid underneath the table.

  One minute later, it was over. The gunfire stopped as her best friend was gasping for air, trying to escape the situation.

  Then somebody entered the cottage by kicking on the door. A shadowy figure wasted no time going into the kitchen and flipping over the table to see a cowering woman with tears. It was a tall and muscular man wearing a dark trench coat. Even in the dark, she saw his face perfectly as he had short black hair, a full-grown-out dark beard, with brown eyes. He had a pale complexion as he stared down at her.

  She dared to look up at him and faced the man who killed her best friend, “Who are you, people?”

  But with a stoic look, he just stared without saying anything. Like he was too good to speak to her, he didn't even have to say much as he walked over to Lydia, who was still trying to crawl out of the kitchen, and violently stepped on her neck three times, breaking it. I'm on the third time; she stopped responding and moving.

  This made Marco sob uncontrollably, "why? What did she ever do to you?!"

  "Sir!" Then one of the men dressed in complete Army fatigue met the man in a long trench coat holding Lydia's baby, "We found this thing upstairs. What do you want us to do with it?"

  As if the man in a long trench coat was taken aback or even amazed by this “thing.” To Marco, the disconnect between the two was stifling and horrific, especially when he reached out his arms to take the baby from the soldier.

  Immediately, she dared to stand and lunge after him, "THAT THING IS A BABY! THAT WAS LYDIA'S BABY!" she yelled, sobbing.

  Then, the man in the long trench coat grabbed her neck and immediately choked her. Losing consciousness, Marco fell to her knees while turning blue, her eyes rolling back to her head. Merciful, he let go of the chokehold as she fought for every breath that her body wanted to absorb every air in her lungs. He then kicked Marco square in the stomach.

  It was so painful that she didn't even scream. Hunched over on her side, Marco passed out.

  “Take them both. Burn down the village,” The man in the trench coat ordered as he carried the baby out of the room.