The streets seemed painted in blood. Thus were the nights of a Blood Moon. Shawna could feel the ominous edge to the air that had her bringing the hood of her jacket up as she hurried to the cemetery. She found herself attempting to ignore the Shadow Man?s whispers, but on a night such as this it was hard to ignore. Ignoring meant migraines and torment, torture and nightmares. To deny meant to suffer the consequences. The wind nipped at her skin and she shook her head in protest even as the ink dark of her eyes went aflame with a crimson sheen.



Her restless pace only would cease when her footsteps paused before the great oak tree. The unease would never leave her spirit as the limbs of the tree seemed to reach out for her with skeletal branches. More and more Shawna was tortured by the sensation that the Hanging Tree wished to do nothing more than to render her flesh from her limbs. She shuddered even in the southern heat as the jacket was discarded and a hand was shoved through her unkempt hair.



As the Shadow Man wished and demanded she was alone. The loneliness was a peaking sensation that seemed to devour and consume her soul as she closed her eyes to the suffocating feeling of pain. Alone. Lonely. Lost.



The feelings ran rampant through her as she reached to her thigh to withdraw the honing knife. Was she truly to do this? The summoning that he demanded even though she pleaded with the Shadow Man. Shawna knew she did not carry the gift of necromancy, she wasn?t that powerful or talented. She could twist a curse but this was a far cry from her abilities. Still the Shadow Man plagued her, forcing her to learn the practice and rituals. He taunted her, the everlasting presence of the Shadow Man had brought her to ruin.



Depressed and anxious she had ran from all she had trusted and all she had known. The promise of affection from Nicholas became cinders in her palms with the suggestive whispers of the Shadow Man. The hunter, Talbot became a Monster in her eyes thanks to the nightmares the Shadow Man provided where it was not Evil that the man sought the end of but her.



Every single night she died by his hands. Even though Shawna knew of the Shadow Man?s influence she could not escape the recollection of the truth veiled within dreams. She left the Man who was nothing more than a Monster himself far behind if only to save herself and her kind. The Witches.



Taking in a deep breath the crimson spark to her eyes flashed to life as she stared upon the Hanging Tree. The spirits of the dead cried out for redemption and she knew that it was time to seek their forgiveness. She would be a rightful sacrifice. After all her wrongs, this would be the only right she had left to offer.



Briefly her thoughts flashed upon Klara, Soul Twin and Bond Sister, as she felt the tattoo at the nape of her neck ignite in such searing pain it near brought her to her knees. A warning protest from her own gifts and yet the painful solitude she had been forced in by the Shadow Man had become unbearable. She was willing to yield to his final request.



The Blood Moon glinted upon the flawless blade of the dagger as it was raised in the night sky. The wind howled in protest as the moonlight ran red upon the light born weapon. It seemed so prophetic for a moment meant for sacrifice in the hours where blood was meant to spill.