Unable to bear hiding any longer, Vero rose to his feet behind Stolla and Raif, pointing his pistol from behind their backs into the snow. He stumbled back onto the road, shaking with nerves as he ring glowed bright on his finger. His chain had broken in the fray, and it dangled uselessly from the metal bend fast on his flesh like string. He was shocked to see that both Stolla and Raif had lowered their guns, looking on into the smoke with stony faces full of dark hate.
Could it be they knew who was coming?
Could it be they’d been expecting this?
A form was appearing through the smoke, the silhouette of a woman with an hourglass figure. The red witch?
“My highest welcomes, Cotation prince.” Called out a loud and menacing voice, exactly like the one that had filled Vero’s dreams! “You honor my land with your presence.”
From the smoke, she finally appeared. Tall and lithe, robbed in black armor laced in red, she was the most frightening woman Vero had ever seen. Her skin was as blue as Stolla’s, scarred and laced with blackened veins that dotted her high cheeks like tattoos. Her hair, jet black, hung in high dreadlocks straight down her back. She wore an elaborate headdress full of bones and metal, and heavy black gauntlets upon her arms marred in dark red sigils. Even her boots were iron, and a dark red cape flapped violently in the wind from her back.
She was a monster, beyond anything Vero had ever known in his life. He immediately identified her as an enormous threat, one beyond his level of skill, and knew the woman could kill him in a heartbeat if she so desired. There was a sheer aura of terrible energy about her, making the snow melt with a hiss at her feet and blackening the air as it touched her body.
She defiled the earth on which she walked, her sorcery like that of the devil. Surely, this must be the red witch. But how did she knew he was Cotation? And why was she calling him prince?
Cry of the South: The Ost en Lor, Operation 20: The Red Witch