Banshee - The Threads of Fate - pt. 2

Written by shinybri

The Banshee flowed gracefully through the forest, her silken cloak billowing weightlessly behind her, her long raven hair swirling like thick smoke. She was a mirage in the fog of the deep forest. From a distance her sheer garments were almost glowing an eerie, ghostly shade of white.
She stepped on light feet that made no sound and left no trail, no broken twigs or flattened grass. The forest behind her was untouched. No sign revealed she had ever been there.
Her cries were soft now. The blue threads hung in the air like cool mist, wrapping around her body before dissipating into the ether. Her pale flesh felt cold, but the searing pain in her chest was unrelenting. It consumed her thoughts.
Looking straight ahead, it was all she could see. The long, thin crimson thread that dug inside her chest and pulled her somewhere unknown. With each step it felt like a knife twisting inside her, but there was no wound. The blood-red string was bright and taut, vivid against the muted, wavering blues she had grown accustomed to.
She didn't know how long she had been walking through the dark woods. The air was cooler than before. Night fell, but to her eyes nothing had changed. A sickly azure film covered everything in her sight, making the trees look black and dead. Her soft, whimpering moans echoed in the silent emptiness.
She felt a sudden tug, a jolt in her chest that caused her to cry out. As she stepped silently into a small clearing she saw him. Her target. A large figure shrouded in darkness was on the other end of the crimson thread. He was standing with his back to her, holding a human high off the ground by the throat. The body dangled limply, its vacant eyes bulging and staring at nothing. It was covered in blood, its body twisted and broken enough that it was impossible to discern any physical features.
The figure carelessly tossed the corpse off to the side as he turned around slowly, his face concealed by shadows. He watched the ethereal beauty step cautiously towards him.
The Banshee slowly cocked her head to the side as she examined her prey. The man standing before her was wearing a mask and watched her with glowing red eyes. No, it wasn't a mask. It was a skull, the bone-white surface splattered with dark blood. She wasn't sure what to make of this creature, but the pain was lessening the closer she got. That was all she needed to know.
“What do we have here?” He asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. Right away the Banshee knew this one was different. Would he put up a fight? It would be pointless; he'd be dead before he could react, just like all the others. “A friend of Keeva, I presume?” He asked. “Your kind don't just appear for nothing... To what do I owe the honor?”
“My kind...” She said, her chilling voice echoing through the dark woods. “...are but an omen of death.”
Her words were long and drawn-out, deep and sinister and shrouded in faint whispers. The man's piercing red eyes watched her intently, his expression hidden. He observed patiently, waiting, as if she might continue speaking. But the Banshee only watched the taut red string that connected them as it rippled in the cool air.
Hesitantly she reached a clawed hand up toward her chest and touched the red string with one needle-like finger, expecting fire and pain. To her surprise the thread didn't melt or incinerate; no flames burst forth that burned in her chest until she screamed. Instead there was only relief. The crimson string rapidly changed to a deep purple and swirled around her finger.
That had never happened before. Whenever a thread turned red, she had always killed whatever happened to be on the other end. Destroying it was the only thing that could relieve the pain, and yet now, there was none. Before she could try to figure out why, thousands of red strings burst from the man's chest like an inferno, reaching in all directions and changing the blue haze of the forest to crimson. The man did not react; he couldn't see them. But the Banshee couldn't hide her shock.
She stared in awe as the once-docile threads now flickered restlessly. The very air around them had changed; she wondered if he noticed it. The air felt hot and thick and it made her skin tingle, her pale body now drenched in crimson light only she saw. Even her white cloak reflected the glowing red forest. Finally she understood. He would kill them all.
But she knew who would kill him.
And she knew how to stop it.