The Hex

The wise woman is seated in a corner, her tools laid out before her. There are no windows in this room, no sound but her breathing. Her outfit is covered with elements: gold, silver, and painted and embroidered marks of her trade. Her folk and superiors have called on her to exert her abilities…to save them. Locked away, however, until her work is done, she falters. She sits. She folds her hands in prayer for a brief time to some distant god, and then opens her eyes to the dim lighting.

Everything she needs rests in front of her. Incomprehensible to anyone else, she alone understands them, what they are, and what their true power is. Slowly, in her stupor, she starts to use them. Letters, numbers, strange words and icons that have meaning only to her are etched down in front of her, by her hand and tools. She squints, trying to remember the instructions she had been given; it seemed so simple before, but now, she felt impossible, drunk. With effort, though, the final glyphs glowed softly, painting their reflections on her cheeks. Her work done, slowly, as though having just gone through a painful ordeal, she gets out of her seat and staggers to open the door, to release herself back into the light.

As she does, a thousand miles away, a million lives far off are extinguished by the might of the Sun. What was once a bustling settlement is returned to the plain of Creation.