Cold rain drowns the forests outside of Ravenport, a full moon barely able to make its presence known amongst a sea of unforgiving clouds. The hour had grown late enough to where even the nocturnal animals around grew tired of the night. A well built but quiet two-story log cabin sits in the middle of this forest, with a small road leading back out to the highway sitting nearby. A well worn, navy blue pick up truck sits in the driveway, complete with a set of well-used tools sitting on the hood. The clearing in which the house rested is enough to constitute a yard, but the precise goal of this home was to be far out from the hustle of city-life.

Just in front of the door, a distortion of space gathers itself, bowing out the rain from it and sparking with energy. With a gentle ‘thop’ the distortion grows out into the outline of a cloaked woman, who slowly fills in as her position becomes more defined in reality. The distortion ends soon after, rain quickly soaking into the cloak. With a stiff movement, she reaches up and pulls her hood down. The woman’s skin is pale, though a few veins of glowing creep at the edge of it. A small trickle of blood flows down the side of her face, underneath her cracked, rounded glasses. Her dark brown hair is shoulder length and looking windswept, the woman taking the time to push her pink and green bangs back down to frame her face as intended.

She stares up at the rain for a moment longer, taking a deep breath and refocusing herself. A dull thudding of pain shoots through her hand as she pulls up her sleeve to take a look at it. The same cracked, glowing blue veins eat at it, accompanied with darkened, burned skin. She winces at the visual and hides her hand, unsure of how much longer it’d be operational. With a deep sigh, she reaches for the doorknob and opens the door, stepping into her home.

The place is dark, though the full moon outside provided enough light to see, throwing cold shadows across the entire interior. The omnipresent tick-tocking of a grandfather clock greets her as she stands in her foyer, the woman starting to walk inside. The interior of the home is cozy, with the main hallway leading to several rooms on the ground floor, and a full wooden stairwell presumably leading to more rooms.  Several paintings and pictures cover the walls in memories, most portraying gatherings of not just humans, but several creatures that were best described as werewolves.

The woman makes her way up the stairs slowly, each step feeling heavy, like her feet were hardening on the spot. At the top of the landing sits both a table with yet, even more, pictures, though most of them contained a large black werewolf. He looked to be both broad and tall, with jet black fur and a muscular physique. He seemed to be happy in most of the photos, either on his own or grouped with others. The woman stops at the landing table and looks out over the photos and picks up the most prominent one, her hand trembling. The picture showed both herself and the black werewolf, smiling together and looking towards the camera. Bitter tears flow from her eyes.

A feminine voice suddenly makes itself known in her head that did not belong to her.

<”Rose? Come in, Rose? Are you there?”>

Blinking back her tears for a moment, Rose concentrates long enough to respond to the telepathy. Her voice wavers.

<”...Y...yes. I am...I am present.”>

<”Ah, there you are! I’ve been trying to contact you on the linkstone for hours! Status?”>

Rose places the photo down and looks at the golden ring on her left hand. She grips the wedding band and spins it slightly on her ring finger, sniffling.

<”He’s...he’s gone. The operation was a success but...he...they’re both...”>

The feminine voice hesitates for a moment before speaking robotically.

<”...Understood. Please take care of yourself and call back when you are able.”>

Rose reaches into the pocket of her robes underneath the cloak and slowly draws out a pair of bent rectangular glasses and sets them down on the photo table, next to a picture of both the black werewolf, herself and a third man. He had brown skin, a lean build, long straight black hair and a pair of rectangular glasses that framed his face. His stature looked to be one of a professor, with a dress shirt and khaki pants. Rose grabs the photo to look at it more closely, but her hand crackled with pain, forcing her to recoil and drop the photo, bashing into other ones on the way down. The commotion stirs the cry of an infant, deeper within the home.

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Rose makes her way to the nursery, opening the door quickly. With the lights on, the room is coral colored, with multiple pictures of cartoon animals and letters dancing along the wallpaper. On a darkened on a night like this, large shadows dominate the room, hiding most of the animals and rendering the letters unreadable. A crib rests against a wall with a mobile slowly spinning above it, filled entirely with planets and stars. An infant, with short black hair and light brown skin and around a year in age, cringes herself awake, the beginning of a cry welling in her throat. Rose rushes over and coos in the softest voice she could manage.

“Shh-shh-shh. Don’t worry. Mommy’s here. She’s here for you.”

The baby calms down as she reaches for her mother, Rose leaning over with a teary smile, reaching down and letting the child grip her fingers. A numbness starts to fill her fingertips. Worried, Rose looks down at her hands again. The blue veins had grown, seemingly cracking her fingers, open while her skin between them had turned black. It wouldn’t be much longer now until more of her hand started to go numb.

Rose toys with the small hand gripping her finger, eventually reaching down and scooping up the infant in her arms. This would probably be the last time she could hold her.

“See there? Having a good ol’ time tonight, aren’t we Luna?”

The baby giggles and claps her hands together. Rose leans in and nuzzles her child’s belly gently. As she does, the hair on her arms stands on end as a magical disturbance grows in power behind her. Someone is teleporting into her home, past the wards.

Five distortions in the air appear behind, bending the air around it, each one a few feet apart. Rose puts Luna back in her crib and turns to face the newly arriving visitors. With five nearly simultaneous ‘thop’ sounds, five figures in robes appear before her, each one wearing a golden metallic mask of an owl and ornate pauldrons. On the chest of each figure sits a golden pin that reads ‘Justicars of the Grand Order of Wizardry.' Each one of them has a weapon drawn, a longsword with a sizeable purple gemstone welded to the hilt. All five of them point their blades directly towards Rose, and the middle one speaks with a booming voice. Rose looks unimpressed, her face remaining flat and static.

“Halt! You have been found guilty of breaking the Statute of Sorcery by opening a portal to the Celestial Realm rogue mage! By the Grand Order of Wizards, how do you-”

Rose crosses her arms as she interrupts him. “Guilty. And lower your damn voice.”

Several of the Justicars look around themselves and upon noticing the type of room they were in, lower their swords, but still grip them with the intention of using them. Rose’s face hardens.

The middle one speaks again, in a less powerful but still authoritative tone. “You did this, knowing the consequences?”

“Yes,” Rose responds flatly. “I did. Because it had to be done.”

The middle Justicar takes a step towards Rose. “Then you will come with us. And you will make arrangements with others for your child.”

A spark of pink lightning arcs between Rose’s fingertips, the bolt dancing up her cloak before disappearing. The dark blue glowing veins intensify slightly. The Justicar halts himself.

“Do not. Touch me.”

The vocal Justicar begins to raise his sword. “Then do you resist?”

Rose shakes her head. “No. I will go with you. But I need to make the arrangements now. Not later. There is nobody else to take care of my child.”

“Surely one amongst our community will be happy to take care of-”

“No,” Rose says curtly. “I know what we’re like. I know what the others are like. I don’t want my child to grow up in that environment. She...she will be going with the Daywalkers. She will have a better life there..”

The Justicars look between themselves for a moment before the center one speaks again. “That isn’t how we do things. You will make your arrangements after your imprisonment.”

Rose explodes. “You will MAKE AN EXCEPTION! I have given up everything tonight! Everything! My husband, my best friend and my freedom! Do you not think I know what I did? Do you not think I know what this will do to me? Do not make me fight you, or else you will truly face someone with nothing left to lose!”

Luna starts to cry as the tone gets violent.

Ignoring her child, for now, Rose clenches her fists as tight as she can. The numbness made it hard to notice a trickle of blood draining down both of her hands. The vocal justicar looks down at her hand...and then towards Rose’s face and physically falters for a quiet moment, stunned. He slowly reaches up and takes off his golden helmet, revealing a caucasian man in his late fifties with short brown hair.

“Why did you do this to yourself? The manaburn is so severe; it’s a wonder you are even still alive.”

Rose sighs and shakes her head slowly. “The leader of the vampires has been banished by my hand. And this is the price I had to pay to get it done.”

The group of the justicars look between each other in disbelief while the unhelmeted one remains sympathetic. “A member of the Duskguard I presume?”

Rose nods.

“Even with that, you know the rules of magic. I will allow you to make your arrangements for your family and your profession but after that, you will come with us. Agreed?”

Rose pulls off her glasses with increasingly clumsy motions, wiping her eyes with her manaburned fingers. She nods slowly, worry sinking itself deep into her face. She nods. A mixture of tears and blood flow through her fingertips.

“Very well.” He says, walking over towards her and placing a hand on her shoulder. Rose turns up to look at him over her messy hand, still trying to stifle her growing sobs.

“Do you feel strong enough to carry your child through a teleportation spell?”