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[center][b]6 Months Ago[/b][/center]

Two months ago, Marie joined in the midnight revelry of her kind, her fellow witches. As a spectre she danced in the silver glow of the full moon, celebrating the power it offered, calling on her guardian and master and praising his name. Never before had Marie enjoyed the company of spirits and witches, and all of it brought about by curiosity, hers and Joseph’s. He had stirred something within her long untouched, something that Marie could scarcely recognize, real joy. In the months following, Marie returned to the forest as a spirit, dancing again with the collection of practitioners and fae at the return of the full moon, each time the circle growing larger, and her smile wider. She spoke to Joseph only when they gathered and never in the time between, for he gave her no method of contact. She had wanted to question him about the nature of magic in Lost Haven, if the community of practitioners ever came together outside of ritual circles, if they conjured together or simply enjoyed each other’s company, but no opportunity ever arose for her to ask such questions, nor had she seen him between those midnight dances . . . until now.

[center][b]~~~~~~~~~~~~~[/b][/center]

The White Witch came out only at night, a time when the mask that hid criminal activity would also serve in hiding her identity, should it ever come into question. She made her usual rounds above Chinatown, hovering over crowded and empty streets alike with a watchful eye. Tonight seemed calm, no speeding sirens or flashing lights, no yelling or screaming for help, no visible sign of trouble. Marie yawned, longing for the comforts of her studio apartment. She craved the warmth of her bed, having missed the chance to nap before patrolling because of work running late. She flew once more over the buildings and shops, once more through dark corners and alleys, until deciding to go home for the evening. As she began the flight home, she noticed something suspicious on the street below, a man walking down the middle of the street being followed by someone a few paces behind. Marie kept a close eye on the two men as they made their way to a diner a few feet down, the first man entering, the second waiting outside the door. 

As the door closed, the second man produced a small, black pouch from his coat and sprinkled its contents in a line across the doorway. Marie perked up, recognizing the act as a method of performing magic on another, forcing them to unknowingly cross a cursed or blessed line. She wasn’t sure how to act, she didn’t know the nature of the spell that was being worked. Magic is a complex art, with some spells holding a variety of components and safeguards to keep them from backfiring, or to keep others from interfering with them. Marie was powerless to stop what happened next. The door opened and out stepped the first man, crossing the line made by the second. He began walking back down the street the way he’d come holding a his order from the diner. Ten feet later, he stopped dead in his tracks, the spell’s effects now setting in. The man turned and began walking down the street, through Chinatown and to a main highway. Marie followed overhead. 

As they reached the highway, with no regard for his own safety, the man walked into oncoming traffic. Cars began swerving around him, honking their horns and swearing as they blared past. Marie tried to move him from the road from afar, waving her arm to move him from the street to the sidewalk, but to no avail. The more she tried, the more drained she felt until finally, a sharp pain went through her chest, a consequence of interfering with a powerful spell. She battled the pain for a few moments as cars continued to pass the man in the street until a large truck passed, unable to stop or swerve. The truck hit the man with full force, killing him on impact. His body was thrown underneath the truck, whose large wheels ripped off skin and limbs, leaving a visceral mess underneath and behind. Marie felt sick. She turned her head only to find the perpetrator standing a few feet away. [i]Who would do something like this?[/i] she thought as she glared at the man, unsure of how to approach the situation. Then, something sinister happened. As she battled whether or not to confront the hooded culprit, he turned towards her, looked up, and beneath the hood she saw a man with familiar features. Marie gasped, a shiver running down her spine. There stood Joseph Mathers, the witch with whom she had no contact, one whom she might have even called friend. As she stood frozen in the sky, Joseph gave her a knowing look, followed by an eerie smile and wave, before turning and disappearing into the city.