1 Night One

The moon gazed upon the world beneath it, unblinking and all-seeing. Eerie silence brought by night hung over that world. Midnight stretched on, drawing to a close. Soon, the Witching Hour would begin.

A hooded man limps down a darkened narrow alley, hunched over and hiding his torn face from all living eyes, the only witness to his journey was the moon above. His coat was heavy, the edge tattered and torn. Thick fur lined his hood, and his arms swung by his sides, swaying with every uneven step. 

He suddenly stopped in place and began to cough violently, vomiting blood onto the street below. Something wriggled free from the blood. Rather, several somethings. 

A half dozen centipedes, each five inches in length skittered from the carmine splatter, crawling back to the hooded man. He stayed still, and allowed them to climb under his pant leg and burrow into his flesh. As they curled up in their new homes, the meat began to grow over them.

The man began to walk again. Dozens of insects, ranging from crickets to worms crept from the darkness, crawling towards the man, towards their new home.

He sighed, and stopped in his tracks once more, allowing his new residents to make themselves at home. Their voices chirped in his mind, thanking him for allowing them such a luxurious home. His face, though hidden, twitched with discomfort as the crawling things burrowed into his body, their hive.

"You really are disgusting, aren't you?" A voice called to the man from the behind at the opposite end of the street.

His head snapped towards the voice, his bones cracking and popping as he turned to face the speaker. A young woman stood at the end of the alley. Her hair was blonde and neatly braided and curled, practically glowing in the pale moon light. The woman's clothing was simple, yet elegant. She wore a simple blue coat with white fur trim around the hem and sleeves, as well as a blue cap. Her outfit reminded the man of a last century princess.

"Just look at you. Are you even human at this point? Tch. To even consider that I had to see something so disgusting this early into the Trial. How could something like you even qualify?" The woman had an accent. Russian, perhaps? The chittering in his mind was too loud. Remembering such trivial things was not his forte. There was no response he could give her, so he simply stared at her for a few seconds before turning away from her, and starting to hobble away.

"You dare ignore me, you walking infestation? You really think you have the right to walk away from the Varnova? Insolent worms!" She shouted. 

Varnova? Yes, that family. Her accent was certainly russian, if that was the case. The chittering calmed. Introducing himself would be polite.

"...Everett. Is our name. Participating?" He asked, his voice calm and cool, though he was certain he'd jumbled the words. Speaking with a single voice was so hard.

"You can't even talk correctly, and you attempt to exchange pleasantries with me? You aren't even human. Disgusting. Just die." The Varnova said, appearing in front of Everett. 

With a snap of her fingers, a mote of blue flames erupted from the ground beneath Everett, engulfing him in flames! 

The chittering over took his mind, as thousands of residents screamed in agony, the heat scorching them. Everett began to twitch, shaking violently as his body burned, though he himself felt no pain.

In fact, there was no visible damage on his skin. His coat was unharmed. Insects were flammable and irritated by smoke, so obviously their ideal hive would be impervious to such things.

He lunged towards the witch, his long fingers extending towards her, reaching to tear her apart. With speed and agility like a cat, Varnova evaded his grasp, an irritated scowl stretching across her face.

With another snap of her fingers, a concentrated jet of flame shot forward like a lance, tearing through his bad leg, severing it at the knee. Everett collapsed to the ground alongside his leg.

Varnova sneered and advanced on the downed man, only to instantly recoil in horror as thousands of insects burst from the felled limb, a cloud of flying insects attacking her from above while the creeping ones assaulted her from the street.

"Eww! Don't touch me!" She screeched, waving her arms out in front of her, aiming two waves of sapphire flames at the clouds of pestilence, cloaking the entire street before her in flames!

Obviously, the insects burned away, their shriveled remains littering the burning street. Everett's still burning hand closed around Varnova's forearm. He pulled the limb, ripping her forearm free from her body! As she screamed in agony, his other hand shot out, fingers extended. His attack reached her left eye, gouging and tearing her eyeball out.

The witch screamed again, and struck Everett with every ounce of strength at her disposal. He fell back, her blow having knocked him off balance.

"Gah... You... Damn You!" Varnova screamed as the pam of her remaining hand burst into flames, and she placed it against the bleeding stump. Flesh sizzled and blood evaporated as she cauterized the wound. Her breathing was heavy and shaky as she stared down at her foe, who was struggling to get back on his foot.

"Tougher. Good. Call it here?" Everett's voice was calm and cool, not befitting of someone with his injuries.

"You're treating me lightly. You have the gall to take my arm and eye, and then you ask for a recess? Fine. The next time I see you, I'm going to burn you to ashes." Varnova hissed, her face crimson with rage, blood dripping from her empty eye socket like tears.

"Try. Kill you soon." Everett said in an oddly friendly manner, pulling his severed leg to him as he spoke. 

A look of disgust crossed Varnova's face as she watched her fellow witch reattaching his leg. So this was Everett, wielder of the Vile Hive. What a truly disgusting witchcraft. Housing so many insects in his body... no wonder he couldn't speak properly.

Regardless of it's downsides, she knew that she'd have to change up her methods if she was to kill him. Not only was his leg already reattached, he was already limping back down the street.

This body was nearly at it's limit. Varnova sighed. She'd have to call it a night soon, but there was one more witch she had to encounter tonight. 

She snapped her fingers, and now she was in front of a warehouse, the soon to be location of the last witch. She looked down at her stump of an arm with her only good eye. This form would likely be helpful against him.

Varnova walked up to the door, and placed her hand against it. It was held shut by a pad lock. She placed her hand to the lock, and both her hand and the lock ignited, blue flames eating away at the steel in seconds. The molten metal dripped onto the ground, hissing as it came into contact with the cold stone.

She pulled the door open, and shut it behind her. The warehouse was large. Open spaces were certainly preferable to that narrow street. She crossed the floor, and laid down on the cold stone floor, shuddering at the temperature.

Varnova closed her eyes, and waited for the seventh witch.