A Thief

In a time when creatures of night ruled, and beings of the day still feared. It was a rare human that ventured into the darkness alone. Night fallen on the wood, this thief however, dared to enter. 1

She cared not the reason people feared the night. She cared not of wars between Vampires, Werewolves and Demons. All that mattered to her was it had provided a prize.2

A few extra ales at the inn, a few extra favors well placed, a rumor that proved to be truth, she sought a rare stone of uncommon beauty and worth.3

It was the Bloodstone Ruby, summoned from hell itself a thing of power to swing the balance and secure the win. An evil empire would begin, it all depended on who owned the stone.4

Battle lines were drawn and the waiting begins. The thief slides past as if a cat. No immortal could be bothered with a human at this crucial hour. Stealth and silent, she drags the carcass through the meadow, ever so close to the lines.5

Center to the field, a great tower wherein evil dwelt. Wherein lies the stone in wait, its power to be beckoned at the height of the moon by the evil lords.6

Soon she stands waiting. Wrapped in the shadow in the tower's sanctum. She glances round at guardians, seven, they have not seen the mere slip of a girl.7

Then it happens, the moon slips free its shroud. The sanctum starts to glow, shades of scarlet and blood. There stands the stone on a pedestal of gold. Its unearthly light bleeding through the room.8

First a howl, then an unearthly scream, the thief grins as the sounds float in, bloodlust has broken the lines so carefully staked, mere blood of a goat and moonlight to do her work.9

The guardians look away, but her eyes never waver, her hand now poised over her prize. Too late, they sense her; too late they surge. With a flick of her wrist, the light is doused. The pedestal stands empty and the thief gone.10

From a hill in the distance, she stands. Whisked away by the magic. Before her, the gates of hell have opened, there will be no victors for this battle. The hounds of hell had come to reclaim their children.11

When all is quiet the battle dust gone, the meadow stands barren and empty, not a stone or brick to show the tower ever stood.12

Alone on a hill a mere slip of a girl looks over a rather plain looking stone, colors of green and rust. With a grin, she slips it in her bag and heads home.13

No one knows for certain what happened that night, but the thief who will never tell. As for creatures and beasts that go bump in the night, they have become things of rumor and fairy-tales, stories to scare the little ones.14

Far away, a mere slip of a girl laughs tossing a stone to catch it again. A plain thing like a green and rust colored apple. With a secret smile, she places it upon her mantle.