Ryleth was almost done with the ritual. Before him laid Angela’s corpse on an altar. The smell of incense hung thick in the crypt’s sanctuary. When he was done saying her last rites he closed the ancient, ever further depreciating tome that laid on the lectern. A twisted, light purple candle sitting on the stand lit up. Ethereal light formed like a thin film on the body, which then rose up from it.

[b]“A final goodbye.”[/b] Ryleth said as Angela’s spirit formed before him.

She slowly observed the ethereal form. She tried to touch the ground but she passed straight through. [b]“Let me have my revenge.”[/b] Her tone was threatening. As a witch’s spirit she might even be stronger than in her mortal form. Though it’s a fate few witches would truly embrace.

[b]“No.”[/b] Ryleth said.

Angela screamed like an actual banshee as she flew through Ryleth towards the stairs behind him. Her spectral form exploded into dust as she hit an invisible barrier in the doorway. Ryleth slowly turned around to face her as she reformed again from the glowing dust. Once again she unleashed a banshee scream. [b]“Unleash me!”[/b]

[b]“No.”[/b] He repeated with the same, calm voice. [b]“I have sworn an oath as crypt keeper. You know I have. You also know the fate of any Bloodrose Witch.”[/b]

[b]“I have on time for phantasms and dark, shared dreams! Vengeance will be mine! Unleash me!”[/b] She howled again.

[b]“Silence!”[/b] Ryleth’s voice echoed through the sanctuary and beyond. [b]“This mortal world is no longer your concern. I will only ask you once. Are there any last wishes you want to be fulfilled?”[/b] It was a tradition. Not all witches had their belongs allocated. Death could come quickly to any witch.

[b]“Murder the Queen!”[/b] She demanded.

Ryleth let out a deep sigh. Few witches were ready to die. Even fewer were ready to remain in the Bloodrose crypt. Yet all, with enough time, resigned to their fate. He had spoken with centuries old witches amid the tombs. All said the same. [b]“It will get better.”[/b] Ryleth said a final goodbye, before he smothered the candle’s flame with two fingers. Angela’s ethereal form vanished. Behind him, skeletons picked up the wrapped up corpse. Two more took the heavy tomb stone that he had carved in the last hours. The stone was in the likeness of Angela. It would cover the coffin and seal itself shut.

Rather exhausted Ryleth fell into a chair. For the past hours he had been busy preparing Angela’s corpse to be interred in the labyrinthine crypt. Now he had nothing else to distract him.

After a few minutes of hoping he’d find another solution, he too resigned his fate and got up. His skeletons were already moving boxes around. Until one particular one was uncovered. There was nothing special about this box. It had been gathering dust for years now. However, Ryleth cracked it open with great reluctance. Inside were eight crystal flasks. Adorned with polished brass and bronze that remained untouched by time. Despite their master-crafted quality, there was no iron, gold or silver to find on them. When he saw them ancient memories boiled back up. Memories of better times and a kinder world. When Medusa ruled with her iron fist and actually cared about the castle and the coven. A queen that radiated power. It was in the height of those days that he made these flasks. Only they could he get his hands on all the power and resources to make such complicated phylacteries. He took six of them and then ordered the box to be sealed up again. He hoped he’d never need them. They were the last resort after all.
[hr]
The stable doors that led to the courtyard opened up. From the darkness of the stables, an unnaturally dark horse walked. Its fur was not just black. It looked almost as if any light that touched it was consumed. Its scarlet eyes were glowing and mist gathered at its hooves. It was a Nightmare ridden by Ryleth. The creature was no mere enchanted horse. It was a testament to a witch or warlocks strength and knowledge of Dark Magic. His steed slowly approached the gate where apparently quite a few witches were gathering at.

One caught his eye immediately. A naked woman with hair like molten rock. She wasn’t part of the coven. At least not yet. Ryleth kept his cold eyes on her for quite a bit longer. Trying to read and gauge her. Then he noticed Alexina. The sly queen was recruiting while she sends him to slaughter her opponents. How fitting for a leader. Maybe there was something Medusa had taught her. Still, it would not be enough to rectify years of incompetence. Speaking about incompetence: Taran. The joke of a warlock. A boy living in a made-up world. One Alexina now kept him in. For a moment he smiled. A question was answered. Then there was Usoa who apparently now really abandoned any form of morality or clothing. Ryleth did not forget her suggestion for his punishment.

He gave Alexina a small, curt nod as he passed the group. As he passed the gate he ushered the nightmare into a frenzied gallop into the woods. They vanished within moments in the darkness of the trees.