Final - Sophia Manasa
The story is about a witch-hunter. It takes place on the body of a
creature so large people think it's a world. Holding off the end of the
world is an important part of the story.
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Once upon a time, there was a witch-hunter named Georgiana Starlington. As our story begins, Georgiana, or George, as her few friends called her, was filled with a grim satisfaction. She had recently dispatched yet another coven of the filthy witches that plagued her world, and seemed to be trying to end it for good. Yet the world was still shuddering, as it had more and more in recent months, and surely no one save the gods would be able to do anything about it. As she looked out over the fields across the sloping landscape, the vibrant green of her home had been replaced by a pale and sickly grey-blue. Perhaps most disturbing was the fact that with each witch that George stopped, the others seemed more assured that the end was nigh.Perhaps, she thought, it was because they seemed to be recruiting more all the time.
She had been trained from a young age for the hunt, as she had been born in the caul and it was noted by the church that she had been sent by the gods for the cause. While others of her profession seemed to be content to rack up as many witches' curly shoes as they could for their trophy collections in the line of duty, George was beginning to doubt whether her holy calling was making a difference.Perhaps if she could understand -how- the witches were planning to end the world, they would be able to stop the damage sooner. It wouldn't be long before her people would no longer be able to survive off the land.
The holy father who ran the hunt had warned her on several occasions against listening to the witches. He demanded that George and the others have faith, shoot first, and ask questions never. He said that witches could bend devout minds to their cause with lies and spells, and that young women were particularly vulnerable, but as the ground shook beneath her feet George could only become more resolved in her aim to find out the witches' plan and stop them once and for all. She steadied herself until the worst of it was over, then crept around the house to which she had been ordered and notched a bolt in her crossbow, Crouching outside a window, she listened carefully.
"Our preparations are nearing the end," she heard one woman say to another, "but I fear by the time we are ready, there won't be enough of us left to make the trip and save the Mother."
George thought this was very strange indeed. She had been taught that the witches worshipped a false goddess called the Mother, but surely if she were any goddess at all she would not need saving. She peeked through the window and saw the witches closing a book. It seems they had been preparing a list to take to market. If she did not attack soon, they would escape into the street, but if she followed them, she would lose her chance to see that book. The holy father always destroyed the witches' belongings himself. She decided to pretend that she had missed the witches and waited as they donned their cloaks and left.
Even as she snuck into the house, George prayed for forgiveness. She stayed low as she moved around the large work table at the center of the long room. Pulling the book that she believed they had been working from off of the shelf with other jars and dried plants, she sank onto the floor with her crossbow at her side. Flipping through the first few pages, she saw a beautiful illustration of a vibrant green dragon with an inscription about "The Mother" in very fancy lettering. As she admired it further, she noticed dotted lines drawn out from a point on the dragons back to a rectangle in the corner of the page. Contained inside the rectangle, appeared to be a very small map of the known world.
George frowned. If she didn't know better, she would believe that this book was proposing that the entire known world (which everyone knew was a flat disc in space) was just a tiny area on the back of an unbelievably enormous dragon. She flipped further into the book and found, to her surprise, that that was exactly what these witches believed. It was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard in her life! Beneath her, the ground rumbled again. She looked back at the bookshelves. There were many books about the Mother and about known patterns of nature. There were books about human health, and there were also books about dragon husbandry. Dragon husbandry!
George took the dragon husbandry book off the shelf and let it fall open to the page that was obviously constantly used. It was headed "Scale Lung." She read on. "Scale lung is characterized by racking, spasmodic coughing fits, accompanied by an unhealthy change in the pallor of the skin caused by insufficient access to air." She glanced out the window at the newly graying hills. "Left untreated scale rot will result in death by asphyxiation."
George wasn't sure what asphyxiation meant, but she knew death couldn't be good for the land. But what was she thinking? Of course we couldn't possibly live on the back of a dragon. She decided to read on. The magical treatment proposed for one "normal" sized dragon (the size of a house!) required 5 covens for the ceremony! That was at least three score witches! What did these witches think it would take to heal a dragon of almost unfathomable size?
Suddenly, a jar crashed to the floor. George was on her feet with her crossbow drawn in an instant.
The young witch in the doorway gasped. The middle-aged woman behind her held out her hands, and started approaching slowly, "Please, hunter," she said quietly. "You can't take us yet. We have to help Her, and we don't have much time. She needs all of us, and we need Her, too."
This was the moment that George had been trained for. Have faith, shoot first, ask questions later. She squared her shoulders and made her decision.
-------
Once upon a time, there was a witch-hunter named Georgiana Starlington. As our story begins, Georgiana, or George, as her few friends called her, was filled with a grim satisfaction. She had recently dispatched yet another coven of the filthy witches that plagued her world, and seemed to be trying to end it for good. Yet the world was still shuddering, as it had more and more in recent months, and surely no one save the gods would be able to do anything about it. As she looked out over the fields across the sloping landscape, the vibrant green of her home had been replaced by a pale and sickly grey-blue. Perhaps most disturbing was the fact that with each witch that George stopped, the others seemed more assured that the end was nigh.Perhaps, she thought, it was because they seemed to be recruiting more all the time.
She had been trained from a young age for the hunt, as she had been born in the caul and it was noted by the church that she had been sent by the gods for the cause. While others of her profession seemed to be content to rack up as many witches' curly shoes as they could for their trophy collections in the line of duty, George was beginning to doubt whether her holy calling was making a difference.Perhaps if she could understand -how- the witches were planning to end the world, they would be able to stop the damage sooner. It wouldn't be long before her people would no longer be able to survive off the land.
The holy father who ran the hunt had warned her on several occasions against listening to the witches. He demanded that George and the others have faith, shoot first, and ask questions never. He said that witches could bend devout minds to their cause with lies and spells, and that young women were particularly vulnerable, but as the ground shook beneath her feet George could only become more resolved in her aim to find out the witches' plan and stop them once and for all. She steadied herself until the worst of it was over, then crept around the house to which she had been ordered and notched a bolt in her crossbow, Crouching outside a window, she listened carefully.
"Our preparations are nearing the end," she heard one woman say to another, "but I fear by the time we are ready, there won't be enough of us left to make the trip and save the Mother."
George thought this was very strange indeed. She had been taught that the witches worshipped a false goddess called the Mother, but surely if she were any goddess at all she would not need saving. She peeked through the window and saw the witches closing a book. It seems they had been preparing a list to take to market. If she did not attack soon, they would escape into the street, but if she followed them, she would lose her chance to see that book. The holy father always destroyed the witches' belongings himself. She decided to pretend that she had missed the witches and waited as they donned their cloaks and left.
Even as she snuck into the house, George prayed for forgiveness. She stayed low as she moved around the large work table at the center of the long room. Pulling the book that she believed they had been working from off of the shelf with other jars and dried plants, she sank onto the floor with her crossbow at her side. Flipping through the first few pages, she saw a beautiful illustration of a vibrant green dragon with an inscription about "The Mother" in very fancy lettering. As she admired it further, she noticed dotted lines drawn out from a point on the dragons back to a rectangle in the corner of the page. Contained inside the rectangle, appeared to be a very small map of the known world.
George frowned. If she didn't know better, she would believe that this book was proposing that the entire known world (which everyone knew was a flat disc in space) was just a tiny area on the back of an unbelievably enormous dragon. She flipped further into the book and found, to her surprise, that that was exactly what these witches believed. It was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard in her life! Beneath her, the ground rumbled again. She looked back at the bookshelves. There were many books about the Mother and about known patterns of nature. There were books about human health, and there were also books about dragon husbandry. Dragon husbandry!
George took the dragon husbandry book off the shelf and let it fall open to the page that was obviously constantly used. It was headed "Scale Lung." She read on. "Scale lung is characterized by racking, spasmodic coughing fits, accompanied by an unhealthy change in the pallor of the skin caused by insufficient access to air." She glanced out the window at the newly graying hills. "Left untreated scale rot will result in death by asphyxiation."
George wasn't sure what asphyxiation meant, but she knew death couldn't be good for the land. But what was she thinking? Of course we couldn't possibly live on the back of a dragon. She decided to read on. The magical treatment proposed for one "normal" sized dragon (the size of a house!) required 5 covens for the ceremony! That was at least three score witches! What did these witches think it would take to heal a dragon of almost unfathomable size?
Suddenly, a jar crashed to the floor. George was on her feet with her crossbow drawn in an instant.
The young witch in the doorway gasped. The middle-aged woman behind her held out her hands, and started approaching slowly, "Please, hunter," she said quietly. "You can't take us yet. We have to help Her, and we don't have much time. She needs all of us, and we need Her, too."
This was the moment that George had been trained for. Have faith, shoot first, ask questions later. She squared her shoulders and made her decision.