[hr][hr][h1][b][i][center][color=pink]Cuyler Eysteinsson[/color][/center][/i][/b][/h1]
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[hr][center][color=pink]Location:[/color] The Palace Lawn [/center][hr]

In the many years that Cuyler had been traveling and coming to the Castle, he had seen a wide range of peculiar things. Such discovers that nothing should shock him anymore and yet, something always did. Cuyler threw up his arm to block his face from the exploding chair and when he dropped his arm back down without a scratch on it, he saw a very disturbed looking Prince Myrus. Blood was dripping from his nose, splattering his clothes and the ground below him but the rest of his appearance was just as alarming. There seemed to be a faint red glow to his hand as well. 
Ignoring the short man’s comment, Cuyler stepped forward cautiously, as one would with a wounded animal and bent down. He fell into eye line with the man who looked very much the boy now and spoke as gently as he could. 
[color=pink]”Prince Myrus, who is going to be killed?”[/color] he asked him. The man had begun to mutter to himself and seemed quite distressed. Earlier, it had been revealed that one of the late [b]Wizard’s[/b] accomplices had tampered with the young Prince’s mind. This mental break Myrus seemed to be going through must be a result of the invasion of one’s mind and thoughts.
There was much to [b]Magyk[/b] that Cuyler had yet to understand but this outburst of the Prince only reinforced his belief that the use of it needed to be better controlled. 


[hr][hr][h1][b][i][center][color=#006400]Amarantha[/color][/center][/i][/b][/h1]
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[hr][center][color=#006400]Location:[/color] The Port Witch Coven [/center][hr]

One by one Amarantha watched as the Witches unfroze and Fleur completed the [b]Cradlesnatching[/b]. Amarantha took a step back, politely reevaluating. She had read up on the Port Witch Coven during her training and she understood the power that laid under this roof but Amarantha had a problem understanding her limitations. Her task was to return Luna safely to the Castle. She had yet to not complete a task.
The corner of her lip twitched up at the mention of Jadis’s comment but it rolled right off her shoulders as her attention was drawn to a Witch that was reciting a spell. With a flash, a snake dropped down into their midst and seemed to be trained solely onto Amarantha. Interesting. She shifted back a step again but it only pushed the snake to launch itself at her. The knife was already in her hand but she had to time it right. It came close to biting her, she felt the scales slid across her hand as she swiped down and the snake separated. It’s head fell to the floor before the body and Amarantha looked up at the Witch who cast the spell. She smiled and looked down, flipping the knife back and forth so it was a mere blur of silver and red each time it moved.
[color=#006400]”Well it seems things are about to get a mite interesting, aren’t they,”[/color] her eyes flared as she spoke and connected them back to the Witche's. Amarantha was no fool, she was on her own here. 
The fighting raged on in the background and though she hoped to have survivors, she was no sentimentalist and the Witch standing beside her had her own agenda that begged for fruition. Her options were thin. Talk her way past the Witch Mother to snatch Luna or, fight her way through it. She didn’t give it much thought, she didn’t have much time. Slipping the knife into her left sleeve, she streaked across the room and slammed into Nera. Her hand made contact with Nera’s head and slammed her into the wall in an effort to knock the petite Witch out. Amarantha felt the dead wait almost instantly and let Nera slid to the floor. Blood began to pool from her head where she landed; dead. 
Amarantha turned, sliding the knife out of her sleeve and set the point to her left forefinger and the handle in her right hand. She twirled the knife around. 
[color=#006400]”I’m on a timeline, if you would be so kind to accommodate,”[/color] she said, looking to Jadis. 
The young Hunter spared a glance at Fleur, giving the Witch a wink as the wicked smile she so often wore settled firmly on her lips.