My feet carefully guide me across the old bridge. The bridge doesn't creak or make a sound. It obeys my will. My will is the will of the Queen. For, I am the Queen's son. I am Hers.
I stop and look up at the grand castle. Or, at least, what is left of it. It is magnificent. It is beautiful.
In my eyes. I see what it once was and still is. It stands tall.
I am surprised that this castle was said to be ugly. Ugly and horrid like the witch that resides in it.
The witch that I am to kill.
I walk toward the mighty structure. I enter a side entrance that the Queen informed me about. It is a small little nook that looks like it once had a door there. A door that is long gone now.
I ascend the stairs. They spiral around a central pillar of stone. About fifteen steps from bottom, the dawn's light disappears. I am left in darkness, but I do not fear. The Queen's will shall be done without fear nor hesitation.
I rotate the knife in my right hand. It has never killed before. It is sharp and without imperfection. It has an ornate hilt. I wonder how it could ever be used as a murder weapon. So clean and fresh. Innocent perhaps.
The sound of singing echoes down the stairs. I refuse to be awed by the beauty of the song. The words slip past my ears. I will not succumb to her enchantments.
I reach the top of the stairs. The pale, gray light of the morning shines in the room. She is there in the corner, back towards me, and she is not at all ugly. There is a great possibility that she is even more beautiful than the Queen. But no! Thoughts such as those dare not be allowed to enter my mind.
Soon, I hear the words to her song: A new day, the light of a new day greets me this morning as a harbinger of death. This cool day, this cool day that bathes me in shadow. The mark of the blade at my neck. I am waiting, oh knight of silver, I'm waiting for you to end my life.
So she knows. She knows I am here, that I had come to kill her. To execute her.
Your blade will sever my neck. Now Prince do it, for it is now time. Make haste, make haste, for your Queen is waiting. Don't let Her wait for my ultimate fate.
The witch turns around. Her face is flawless. Perfect. Beautiful. Pale, clear skin and gorgeous, deep eyes captivate me. Her voice is wonderful too. Loosely curled, red hair cascades down onto her shoulders.
Stopping her song, she waits for me to do something, and when I don't, she starts to speak, "Oh Prince. Give me your Blade if you shall not do the Queen's will yourself. I vow not to harm you with your blade." She has a sincere look in her eyes.
I give in. I give her my blade, regretting the decision before it is even made. She reaches out for the knife. The takes it gently, and once it leaves my hands, magic flows out of her palms, through the knife and air, into my hands. Magic that bound her to her promise not to harm me, on the cost of her life.
"You will receive more magic in a moment, dear Nephew."
I think nothing of that she referred to me as her nephew. The power that I feel right now is very awing. The golden light that just danced into my hands a moment ago is gone, in me now. I stare at my hands in wonder.
Her voice snaps me back into focus.
She smiles at me lovingly and says, "Good luck and fare well, young Warlock. The day is young."
Her right hand fluidly moves to her left shoulder. The sun peeks over the mountains and shines upon the land. A flash from the reflected light of the sun can be seen near her neck, and the deed is done. She falls to the floor, but before she fully reaches it, she is turned to dirt. Just plain dirt. A few drops of blood fell onto the dirt, and a green speck of life appeared. Before my eyes, a plant grows in a matter of minutes and blooms. It is an iris. A white iris with purple edges.
It reminds me of the vows that I swore to the Queen. The Queen. She has purple irises on her favourite gown. Similar, but not exactly like the plant that the Witch made. Her irises are darker in colour.
I wonder what would happen if those vows I swore were broken. Because what I plan to do. I scoop up the plant into my hands. But it disintegrates into golden sparkles and light as soon as I bring it to my chest. I feel the power in my my hands once more. It is wonderful. I have an urge to jump out the window that the sun shines through. So I do.
I would be worthless to the Queen now. I am no longer loyal.
I fall and expect to die, but I don't. I land on my feet, unharmed. I am surprised, but with the recent turn of events, I am not to shocked.
I walk in the opposite direction from which I came. I am free now. I do not belong to the Queen.
I belong to the Witch of the Iris.
