To reviewers: Please. I know I am not perfect. Tear my story apart if you must, but give me something to work with. I read somewhere that a famous writer once said that if you are finished writing something and you like what you have written - be worried. If you absolutely hate it, you are finally getting somewhere. Rewrite and revise until you have something worth showing to the world. I hate way too much about this story, but I have no idea where to begin, and I would REALLY like a second opinion. Please. Be harsh. Be critical. I want help.

---

When Mon-Clarisse was born, she did not cry. She stared at the world with wide eyes and squirmed uneasily in the midwife's arms. The woman hit her sharply several times to draw the cries from her lungs. When those who were waiting outside the bedroom door heard this sound of life, a few burst into cheers and applause, but most simply mumbled a soft congratulations.

There were a great many people waiting to hear the baby's cries. Although she herself had yet to do anything extraordinary, the circumstances surrounding her conception and birth were known by many. Her parents were important people. Her father was wealthy and a friend to the ruling Duke in the area. Her mother was well-known, but more importantly, well-liked.

They had been married for many years before they were blessed with a child. The young couple was very much in love, but they remained only that - a couple. Unable to become pregnant, they had called upon every creature that possessed any kind of power and begged with all of their hearts. Many of these creatures had cheated the couple out of good money, offering spells, incantations, blessings, and potions - all of which did absolutely nothing.

Eventually they came upon an old man who lived in a cold, rocky place. He offered no magic cures, but spoke simply and wisely. "Your wife's body is too frail," he said. "She hasn't the strength to bear a child." The husband saw the hopelessness in his wife's eyes and he turned her away from the old man. Barely could he hear the old man mutter, "Besides, dabbling in so much magic isn't healthy. Any child whose life is drawn from such means is bound to have a life he wishes would not come at all."

It is honest proof that the old man was speaking only from wisdom and not from enchantment, because he guessed that the couple's child would be male. And although the young couple flippantly disregarded the old man's words, they would look back at this time for proof against evil much later in their lives.

The mother's mind was swayed only a little by the old man's argument, but it was enough to make her try something new. She developed her body's strength by eating hearty food and trying her hand at a little manual work. She forsook her moon white skin and silky hands to gain the child she wanted with all of her soul. Her body grew heftier and healthier, and she was finally ready to be a home to an even frailer human life.

The child was born in the early morning, at a time when the moon has set but the sun has yet to rise. Stars winked out in the soft purple haze of morning as Mon-Clarisse drew her first breath of life. Her father was biting his fingers anxiously outside the bedroom door as he listened to his wife make noises more awful than any he had ever heard. Whatever pain his dear wife had been suffering, however, faded away the instant she heard her child cry.

The midwife handed the wet, red child to its father and said kindly, "It's a girl." He stood next to his wife's bed and held the image of their combined love in his arms.

"Mon-Clarisse," she whispered as a tear fell down her cheek. "My sweet darling, Mon-Clarisse."

---

Roughly a year before the birth of Mon-Clarisse, her parents visited a bleak, desolate island in the middle of a foggy grey lake. A fierce, windy storm seemed to stir about the area day and night. A prosperous village had once made its home on the lake's shore, earning their living y working the rich farmlands caused by the lake's clear waters.

But one day, the storm rolled in. Dark, grey, angry clouds that pelted the earth with powerful winds, driving rain, and ever enlarging hail descended upong the lake and its village and never left. The plants died, the rich soil turned to moldy bogs, and one by one the villagers left.

The young couple had ridden to this desolate place with a few of their attendants. The horses stopped a mile from the shore and would go no further. The small party trudged onwards on foot, through the rain and the wind. Their feet sucked to the muddy ground and their clothes held fast to them with an icy grip. There were three men, each holding a lantern high above their heads, and two women huddled close together with their cloaks bound around them by whipping winds and fingers numb from cold.

Tied to a dock protruding from the shore bobbed two boats as if they had been waiting. Silently the five settled into the boats and they launched toward the island without oars or anything propelling them.

Lanterns struggling through the mist and fog, the boats drifted silently through the choppy waters as if they were smooth as glass. Not long after they set sail, the murky form of dead, rotting trees dripping with spanish moss emerged out of the stormy grey. Sounds of unknown creatures echoed against the leafless brances that creaked and slammed against each other in the violence of the storm.

The boats slid up the bank. The young couple and their companions staggered forth. They huddled closer together, hardly speaking but pressing onward. The young, beautiful wife gazed about her with an odd expression - not fear, but certain defensive. The husband was half in front of her, one hand on his lantern, the other on his sword.

None spoke of where they were going, but all seemed to be drawn to a large, knotted tree in the centre of the island. The wood was wet, worn and smooth. If all five of them had presed their bodies against its trunk and extended their arms until their hands were touching, they would have barely covered its circumference. The roots lay about like twisted walls, guiding the group to a set of steps formed by roots, earth, and fallen logs. They led into a cave-like entrance at the base of the tree, the darkness deepening with every step the party took.

A deep woman's voice called from within the bowels of the tree, "Put out the lights." The two women reached for each other's hands instinctively and the men drew their swords. "Put the weapons down as well."

Glancing about in every direction and hesitating as long as they could, the men did as they were told. "Come," the voice said. They took cautious steps in the darkness, waiting for their eyes to adjust. Water dripped and plant roots dangled down from above. The tree moaned as it swayed in the wind.

The stairs finally ended in damp stone flooring. Lightning flashed and the faint light from the one flash allowed the group to catch a glimpse of a beautiful but powerful looking woman standing behind a table covered in all sorts of odds and ends. Plant roots and herbs mostly, with a few vials of strange liquid. One dark mink with eyes that shone as yellow disks was slinking along the table's surface. Books were neatly lined up on bookcasessurrounding the room. All of this was illuminated by a glass orb in the centre of the room on a raised pedastle. Inside the glass was a swirling mass of stunning silver and inky purple. From it a dim light cast long shadows around the room.

"Lord Ayorin," the woman smiled at him. "And the Lady Ayorin aas well." She bowed her head slightly and stepped from behind the table. Her long dark gown slid against the floor behind her like a shadow. "I've heard of your quest. You seek a child."

The Lord and Lady Ayorin did not answer. They did not have to. They had gone to so many different sources of power - the fairies, the savage earthen forest dwellers, the mystic healers of the mountains, an old sorceror in the middle of a desert - and each one was more and more powerful as the two became more and more desperate. They were nearly at the end of their rope. This woman was rumored to be one of the most powerful sorceresses, though almost no one knew where she was. Lord Ayorin had paid a great deal to learn where he could find her.

People all over knew of their desire to have a child. Many of those who tried to help them came directly to them, offering their services in the high hopes of a rich reward. People from far places that the couple had never even heard of knew of their desire to have a child, why not this powerful woman?

"I knew you would soon be coming to me, and so I have been working on something that will solve your problem." She brought a small, dark wooden box from within the folds of her dress. She unfastened the lid and drew out a vial that contained an amber liquid. "I have not made an elixir like this in some time, but I have spent months perfecting it and I think this vial should be absolutely perfect."

From among the neatly organized rows of drawers and boxes that ran along the edge of the table, the woman picked up an earthen cup of hot tea. She poured the entire vial into the cup and handed it to Lady Ayorin. "Drink this and within a short time, you will be ready to conceive."

The young hopeful woman took the cup and drank it with a smile. It smelled like earth and tasted like honeyed tea tinged with a something metallic. Everyone looked at her with anticipation, as if some immediate change should be visible.

"The time it takes to work varies from woman to woman, but it has worked for at least five couples in the past, so I'm sure it will work for you." The Ayorins and the sorceress smiled at each other for a few moments. The sorceress' smile showed perfect white teeth behind dark, blood red lips. Her eyes were pale blue and her skin was whiter than porcelain from having lived underground for so many years. Her hair was silken black that tumbled around her thin frame in delicate curls. She was absolutely beautiful in a frightening way.

"Now," she said with a light step behind the table, "we can discuss payment."

"Anything," said the joyful young husband, "You have given us our heart's greatest desire. I am a wealthy man. Name any price and you will have it."

The woman laughed softly and shook her head, "Money is of no use to me."

"I have connections also. I can help you with any favor that you can think to ask."

"The thing I need, none of your connections can give me." A sadness fell upon her face and she looked across the room at the glass orb. She reflected upon it for several moments, the sadness deepening, before she spoke in a soft voice. A thin fragility seemed to echo in her words as if spoken with a voice from long ago. "Do you know what that is, Lord Ayorin?"

He glanced at the cloudy swirls of purple and silver, shimmering and shining with a light that made him squint. "I don't, my lady. Some powerful magic device, I would assume."

"Yes," she muttered, her mind far away and her eyes never leaving he objecct. "It is the most powerful source of magic in the entire world."

Nothing but the sound of dripping water and booming thunder could be heard as the party held their breath and waited impatiently for her to continue.

"It is my soul," she stated simply, her voice reaching its finest frailty in the quiet voice of a young girl very much afraid. She tore her gaze away and spoke with authority, "The human soul is the most powerful source of life magc. Each is unique and different, and each is so potent, it would burn the flesh off of your entire arm if you but laid one finger on it." She turned and stepped towards it, her eyes lost in its swirling light again. "This is only half of my soul. The other half belongs to Sistries the demon."

"Do you need me to retrieve it for you?" Lord Ayorin spoke quickly, eager to leave this place and this woman whose soul dwelt outside her body. "I can amass whatever forces you would need to-"

She laughed darkly. "He is a demon. He doesn't have a physical form. And besides, I'm sure my soul is long gone by now." A dark hatred began to burn beneath the surface of the sadness on her face. She whirled around to face the group. "To gain my powers as a sorceress, I made an agreement with Sistries. I gave him one half of my soul in exchange for my powers, and the rest of my soul is to be turned over to him upon my death.

"I am old. I know I don't look like it, but my days in this life are numbered. I have hardly a year left. I don't want to go into my next life with my soul in evil's hands!" Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she moved on to her proposition. "And so I want to give Sistries the half of another's soul - one even more brilliant and potent than my own, or else he will never accept it. Then I can die in peace, knowing that my soul will no longer be fully in his clutches."

Lord Ayorin could barely hide the apprehension and disbelief in his voice, "You want me to bring you a soul?"

"Well, the soul has to be more valuable than my own - one without heartache and worry. An innocent soul that has not yet begun to decay. Those are the most powerful of all."

"You want a child's soul," Lady Ayorin said with disdain, her face twisting with disgust.

"Not just a child but a baby," the sorceress said. "Your baby."

The small band let loose cries and gasps of horror. The young woman almost threw up. "Never!" Cried her husband. "Why would we try so hard to get a child only to give up their soul?"

"It wouldn't be all of her soul, only half. She would live a fairly normal life and would not be doomed to an eternity of pain and evil, as she would still have hal fof her soul. It's not really as bad as-"

"Absolutely not!" The husband cried again. "You will have no part, no matter how small, of our child's soul!'

"That is my price." The woman said coldly and impassively. "Your wife has already drank my elixir. To not pay would be to steal, and then I would have every right to the child's entire life, as that is what I have given to you. You're stealing her life from me if you do not give me half of her soul. It's a small price when you view it in reality of the situation."

"You're a monster!" The wife shouted, who was now weeping. "You're a horrible, rechid monster!"

The woman snarled. "If you were half as desperate as I am, you would do the same."

"I would never!" Lady Ayorin spat at the sorceress's feet.

"That is my price," she stated again. "I will be ther eon the child's birthday to collect the half of the soul that is mine."

Before the couple could protest again, the woman clapped her hands above her head and a flash of light blilnded them. When they regained their sight a few moments later, they were standing in front of their horses.