“What is a mind but another set of innards to be emptied. What is a body but another container to be shaped. What is a soul but another catalyst to be used.”

  -Gretchen Shag, The Medicine Hag

  Beelza

  Spells, Rituals, Sorcery, Alchemia and Witchcraft, the five forms of power, the five points to every star. These are the five magics and she can feel it churn in her very soul. She draws a star in the dirt, the mud, the stone, and flesh. She marks it with blood, powder, and spice. She uses the things she glimpsed in the gifts of warped iron and the songs unheard in the wind. Everything has spoken to her in small bits, shards of truth found in every message.

  So she learns again, once from her grandmother, and now from the world. She sees and she listens. As things rise, things descend. As it is given, so shall it take. As above, so below. She learns again.

  Spells are fickle things, they are tied to the words that hold them. They follow songs, musics, and rhymes for the folk of the north, and dances, paintings, and weaving for the folk of the south. And today the winds shall dance for her in the moonlight and she sings something new into being. She evokes a new name that feels like it was destined to be spoken today.

  Lucilfer, what a pretty name.

  Rituals are tied to the act of doing something. In essence a repetition of a story or the creation of a new one. Things follow patterns, like how rain flows to rivers, then rivers to seas, then seas to clouds, and all over again. Things follow patterns, like how some Gods are born to commit patricide or how some kings fall to prophecies. Things follow stories and patterns that lead them to the crossroads, and so she carves a circle in the middle of one, underneath the moon, and with symbols of eyes for everyone to watch. She gives them windows to see through, hoping for their blessings to be given to the child. She invites the things that hide in the woods to witness the baptism of her new creation.

  She grins as owls, cats, crows, and other beasts watch from under the canopies. They seem to be unseen by anyone but her, that even the abominations they slay outside her circle give wide berths to.

  Sorcery is the act of bargaining power from one to another. Priests and holy men often call it miracles or divine gifts, but the wise women of the woods know better than to tell such falsehoods. She she bargains little things, a heart, a finger, a lock of hair, and eye. Each one taken from her sacrifice and are given something more. Little by little the vestiges of the gold haired little king changes, and becomes a creature of power. He would run a little faster with every trade, endure a little more with every hair or scale gifted.

  Alchemia is the act of bringing the primordial forces of the world and tugging on their connections. She has heard of stories from her grandmother of incredible feats performed in the hidden cities headed by a terrible and powerful queen. And in that city they grasped the truths of alchemia and went to war with armies of gold and brass. So she takes a page from their story and melts the metal from blades and spears and hammers and nails, and fills his bones with every drop. His eyes with gems and flesh with gold. She would fill him with fire and sulfur and would see the results after.

  The men pour the metal on him and change him from within.

  Witchcraft is none of these, or all of these if you really think about it. It is the power of bending the world to what it wants to be. She could fly because the concoctions tell her that she could, poultices could give more time simply because they say it is so, and the elements would flow to her fingers simply because it wishes to. It is the study for the underlying rules of the world and the flow of everything.

  And now she weaves it all together into an artwork that many witches would surely envy if they saw it. A shame that she could not do more, maybe if she could ransack the coffers of a different city lord next time.

  Grandmother are you watching, can’t you see that I’ve listened to all your lessons all these years. I wish you could see this.

  She sighed. She wished that she could have known it all before.

  How could she have not seen this before in all her life. She was a practitioner of the arcane arts, yet her view was incredibly limited. The mortar held the components, while the pestle dropped to refine it into powder. It spoke to her, and her alone.

  The flesh can be changed.

  She has seen it in the shambling monstrosities outside her pentagram. She has seen it in the hardening of her nails and teeth to iron. Now she will see it in her new test subject. Knives the bandit, Knives the silver blade, Knives the phantom of the night, and after this Knives the beast.

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  Lines and intricate symbols filled the ground, the air, and the bodies that stepped on it. Symbols crawled to every surface, threatening to swallow every being around it.

  “Kya kya kyak Knives I say this again, are you ready to die?”

  The man was pinned down to the ground and covered himself in symbols and hooves and wings and dead. His eyes were filled with fire and certainty.

  “Do it Beelza, I need to take that monster down even if it kills me.” His eyes pointed to the large flesh pillar in the horizon and snarled in anger. He had his men die and he would not take it lying down.

  “Good, because this will hurt.”

  After painting the last mark on the ground with powders ransacked on a nearby abandoned spice shop, she raised her hands and faced the heavens. She smiled and laughed with her iron hands. The skies crackled with energy and mystic light. Several body parts floated around Knives as he lay beneath the pentagram. His goons showing a look of concern, but kept silent as their leader showed his resolution.

  She told everyone to pile up all swords and spears, and light a fire as bright as the sun. She spared no expense as every jewel they ransacked and every philter they stole were placed in intricate diagrams around their Bandit King.

  Today she would birth a star in mortal form, a beast of horror and beauty.

  Horn of Ram and Wing of Bat

  Heart of Ox and Eye of Cat

  Bones of Metal and Flesh of Flame

  I give this King another name

  Tail of Newt and Fang of snake

  I give him arms of cinder make

  Scales of serpent and beasts of sea

  Ground shall part with his decree

  She was really putting her all to it. Maybe she should make her own stageplay one day, like the ones bards always sing.

  Knives was currently being zapped by continuous bolts of lightning and suffering unimaginable pain due to his flesh being replaced. She saw his entrails evaporate and his bones turn to ash and get quickly replaced by melted metal and beast parts. She was grinning from ear to ear at the scene.

  Then she could feel the large zombie lady took notice of them and started coming their way. The earth moved as the weight of towering dead moved to their direction.

  Shit, I gotta do this fast.

  His soul will burn as a star of morn

  His foes shall weep in in grim forlorn

  From death he rises burned again

  With strength of more than beast or men

  Fair is foul, and foul is fair

  Twist his form to take the air

  Let no arrow pierce his heart

  Nor blade to tear his flesh apart

  Giant flies were swooping to her direction now. Her iron mortar and pestle were blocking any creature that floated nearby. Several of the goons were now fighting hordes and bowmen were shooting flaming arrows to the wave of flesh. She saw in the side of her eye that the large zombie lady was picking up several buildings. She threw a stone tower their direction and it arced over the pentagram, missing it entirely.

  Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!

  She needed to do this quick.

  Lucilfer shall be your newborn name!

  Be wreathed in light, and sun, and flame

  All in sky, in sea, in earth

  Here I grant your second birth

  She saw one of the houses hit near the pentagram, turning earth and brick into high speed projectiles.

  Shit

  A large thunderbolt hit the center of the circle, frying every piece of metal and meat that was piled up on it. Light covered the area where knives was in, blinding everyone momentarily. After the light settled down, she saw darkness, as if the moonlight above completely disappeared.

  No, that’s not right.

  They all looked up and saw a whole section of the wall above them. It was hurtling towards them at speeds that even her flight couldn’t take her. They were doomed.

  Please I don’t want to die, I still have a lot of poetry I want to write.

  A single line of light flew up from the darkness. Like a blade of dawn that glimmered and cut through the night. The tons of stone and brick above them cracked as if it were glass shattered by a comet. The chunk of the wall burst to millions and millions of pieces wrapped in a fire that came from a star.

  “Hahaha!”

  She knew that voice, the same voice she had to hear complain about the soup being too hot. From the same man who was scared to go alone to piss in the dark. From the same man who almost died choking on soggy bread.

  “Kya kya kya! The twink is alive.” Beelza laughed as she marveled at her fleshcraft.

  A plumed human with feather and fur made of iridescent flames flew the sky with two massive wings that draped like capes. A crown of horns lay above their head with eyes that shone like opals. With limbs like that of beasts and a tail that bore no agenda of hiding it. Her work flew above the night sky and burned like a candle in the dark.

  “No longer am I Knives of Shaleport, no longer just the silverblade. I am Lucilfer, the star, and I’m going to beat you up you pile of rotting flesh!” He said as he pointed to the towering woman of death and decay.

  He descended and dropped to where she was. He gracefully flapped his rubbery wings like billowing capes in the wind. It was amazing that magic could make such a thing possible.

  Beelza wondered if she could do that with a house. Maybe one with feet?

  “Beelza, I’m going to keep her distracted. I might not be able to kill her, but maybe that’d be enough for you to gather all the survivors. Can you do that?” He asked her.

  She smiled and cackled like a true bonafide witch.

  “Kick some ass!”

  “Heh, It would be my pleasure. Beelza I’m placing you as the temporary leader, take care.”

  He unfurled his wings and swished his tail, and in a moment he took off like a blazing star. He smashed several other projectiles heading their way in a magnificent display of power.

  “You lot heard what your boss said, I’m in charge Kya kya kya!”

  The goons smiled and gave salutes and bowed as if she were of noble birth. They looked up as she floated above for all to see. She pointed to the wave of monstrosities and launched her slab of floating iron. It hit them till they were nothing more than a stain in the ground.

  “Fell the dead and burn the sky

  Rally the living and follow me

  Their breath still present for us to spare

  So come my men, To Victory!”

  Everyone cheered for their flying maiden of iron. Their hearts burning with bravery and newfound hope. Now she has a new idea. Instead of just saving the living, maybe she could make them stronger like knives. A thought for another time maybe.

  She was about to follow the others to the monster infested ruins, but she saw three figures running towards her. They were near the burning city and were dodging tons of rubble. There was even a guy carrying them both over their shoulders.

  Lodur and Rob?