Authors note: I have ummed and ahhed about this prologue for so long. One day i'm going to completely rework it. But for the time being i'll just have to put up with it.

In the past i have deleted the middle section about the government report. But on reflection i think that was a mistake. I understand that the language is a bit dry and boring, but it does contain important information that foreshadows some of the key elements of the story. Deleting it just made this that much harder to understand. So it's back up until i can figure out how to write it in a simpler more entertaining way.

If the prologue irks you or just doesn't work for you I suggest you just skip it and move onto chapter 1.

Thanks for reading my ramble and I hope you enjoy the story!

MK

LA LUNE

Prologue

This magic isn’t colourful, it’s not fantastical; it doesn’t belong in the books of children or on the pages of fairy tales.

These witches aren’t crones: they don’t fly brooms, they don’t mix brews, they don’t live in castles and they don’t hold wands.

You wouldn’t catch this story as a cartoon, nor as a bedtime tale. You wouldn’t tell this to a kid, or to your ageing grandparents. You wouldn’t share it with the person next to you on the bus, and you certainly wouldn’t raise it for conversation at a party.

This magic isn’t ‘magical’ it’s gritty. It belongs in stinking jungles, rotting shantytowns and dead dry deserts.

Knights, elves and ogres don’t follow this witchcraft; soldiers, guns and governments do.

This story wouldn’t cut it as a tale: no part of it is believable, nothing is familiar, there is nothing to relate to.

You may think witches and magic belong in a book on your shelf. You are wrong. They belong in the national security files of your governments.....

The following is an extract from a security briefing designed to inform incoming heads of state, organisations and NGO's that have maximum security clearance and dealings with military or security bodies on the modern incidence of witches...

Issued by the Intelligence Division, Office of World Security

Intelligence Report

TOP SECRET

The making of a copy of this document is forbidden.

This document is only intended for those with the highest-level security clearance; breach of this is punishable under a special provision of the official secrets act or equivalent of whatever sovereign nation the breach occurs in.

Further to the above, discussion of the material in this document is forbidden, unless with those confirmed privy to its nature.

1. This report is an attempt to inform privileged personnel on the modern incidence of witches: their nature, ability and to qualify their security threat.

2. Below is quantified the number and nature of recent engagements involving witches, the manpower and estimated total expenditure, and the organisational nature of the collaboration between countries engaged in combating this threat.

3. This report will provide, in section 3 in correspondence with supplementary material, the exact operational procedure for neutralising witches.

Expenditure, cooperation and incident reportage

1. In 2008 32 witches were tracked, captured and neutralised in 62 different countries. So far the majority of targets have occurred in third world countries or those with ongoing territorial disputes.

2. It is estimated that the combined total expenditure of this ongoing engagement to governments world wide is 25% of total global defence spending.

3. Special provisions are made within international law for any operation that occurs within a sovereign nation’s boarders. Full cooperation, regardless of existing treaties and tensions, is expected between nations, the SIS and the Office of World Security. Breaches are unacceptable.

Background Information

It is not known for how long witches have existed. Though modern historical research suggests that the first signs of witchcraft, and the legends surrounding it, originated in pandemic style simultaneously in many different locations around the world almost 12,000 years ago.

Historically witches have been a background problem for the ruling class, though in certain periods of history there is evidence to suggest massive and sudden ‘plagues’. These ‘plagues’ can be qualified as times when the incidence of witches within the natural population spikes. The witch-hunts of medieval Europe correspond with one such spike.

It is not known the precise pathology of witches, though it has been tentatively suggested as viral. The symptoms that accompany the onset of witchcraft include the complete whitening of the eye and the disappearance of the pupil and iris, and the inability to form recognisable speech.

Regardless of the exact biological mechanism by which seemingly ordinary people turn into witches, the security threat lies in the power they receive. Referring to attached documents including eyewitness reports and audio and video footage: witches are capable of interacting with their environments in a telekinetic way. Though symptoms vary, the average witch can shift physical material 10 times their weight. Witches also possess the ability to ‘conjure’ elemental forces from thin air.

The onset of insanity accompanies witchcraft. By their nature and their power witches form one of the largest threats to regional and international security.

Operational Information

This section outlines the methods of operation when a witch or suspected witch has been identified. Only under rare conditions will a sovereign nation be faced with a situation of identifying a witch 'cold' - without the help of the Office of World Security, or the SIS.

In most cases, new targets will be identified 'hot' by the SIS. The method of identification by the SIS is not a matter for discussion within this document. Please see attached documents for a full briefing on the history and utility of the SIS. Briefly though the SIS, or Sect of the Illuminated Sun, is an autonomous organisation that operates in cooperation with the Office of World Security to neutralise the witch threat. The origins of the SIS, or ‘The Sect’ can be historically tracked to Roman Christianity and before that to the Kabbalistic traditions of Judaism.

The Sect has worldwide operations and the nature of their organisational structure is similar to current Catholicism.

The Sect provide the expertise in tracking and neutralising targets and it is essential that all nations and security bodies provide them with full support.

Operational Procedure in combating ‘hot’ targets

Provisions and procedures:

1. Establish a military controlled secure perimeter: block out all civilian and non-essential entry. Establish a communications black out - overriding all mobile communications within the area. In extreme cases, where there is sufficient evidence to establish that the 'events' of the incursion have been electronically recorded by a non affiliated third party, this document suggests the use of a controlled EM pulse. Or in the case of countries who have sophisticated phone and internet filtration systems - the immediate shutdown of all lines.

2. This document also suggests that each sovereign nation/ operational security body, keep a force of well equipped, highly trained individuals to assist the SIS should an operational situation unfold. This force is to play a support role, offering tactical and specialised assistance to the SIS who in all situations involving 'hot targets' are considered to have operational command.

SIS operational procedures

1. In most situations involving one target the SIS will send a team of three specialised personnel. Though the personnel will have passing knowledge of the terrain/ physical characteristics of the area - they will rely on their support team for a tactical terrain analysis.

2. Method of engagement: the SIS specialised personnel will be skilled in the process of 'sigilisation'. Sigilisation is a form of psychologically activated elemental power. By a process involving intense directed concentration, these personnel will be able to 'call up' a force to assist them in battle. Sigils are a set of symbols of 'unknown ancient origin' that 'contain pathways to elemental forces'. Though no sufficient explanation has been provided as to why this process occurs, theories of quantum tunnelling, directed observation and parallel dimension 'tapping' have been brought forward. Regardless of their origin, this ability forms the cornerstone of the SIS strategy.

'Spells' or 'Sigil activated forces' often utilised fall into two categories: elemental attack forces (EAF) and environmental support spells (ESS). EAF's include: walls of stone, water, fire and cyclonic funnels of air. Bursts of intense light and darkness can also be included in this category, though are not often used as they require larger effort on the part of the caster. ESS's include: invisible 'walls' designed to halt a target's 'spell' or a moving projectile such as a bullet or mortar. Certain casters are capable of 'electrolysing' these fields so that projectiles will be 'vaporised' on contact. Depending on the ability of the caster, these 'walls' can be extended within a 200-meter range of the individual, though such processes require immense energy. These 'wall' spells can also be used to halt the descent of falling objects, cancelling terminal velocity and enabling, for instance, a fully equipped caster to fall from a plane without the assistance of a parachute.

3. The SIS personnel will be responsible for bringing down the target using sigilisation, while their military support team will provide tactical assistance before, during and after the incident. Once the target has been neutralised, it must be shipped to the SIS. Please see supplementary document 4 for the correct procedure for the removal and transportation of neutralised targets.

4. Security briefings and debriefings will be offered by SIS personnel, and it is a requirement that they are attended.

5. The SIS are to be considered an autonomous, self governing body with extra constitutional rights within whichever sovereign nation they preside. Internal disputes are a matter for the SIS Council, and any complaints about personnel behaviour is to be directed to them. As a body with special provisions under international law, in the event that the SIS requires tactical information/ and or assistance with tracking down one of their own, all aid is to be given. Regarding the sensitivity of this issue, 'rogue' agents, as identified by the SIS, are to be dealt with swiftly.

------------------- End of Security Briefing ----------------------

The making of a rogue...

January 2006....

The wind howled outside, its whistling whine pushing at the great old windows of the Blanca Monastery.

Father Preston, a square jawed, silver haired man of 42 who had served with the British SAS for 10 years before joining the SIS, rested in his chair. After years of drawing fire, crawling through the smothering jungle and surviving on the powdered junk of military rations, Preston had learnt how to relax. So he leaned back in the carved wooden seat and let his shoulders draw into a soft arch, his eyes flickering shut for a second.

But when he opened them she was still there. ‘Sister Clarisse…’ he let his words hang.

Clarisse stared on with dead eyes, a strand of limp blonde hair cutting over her ashen face. White veined hands were clutched properly on her lap. ‘Father…. It simply isn’t right.’ Every ‘s’ was accented with a slight hiss, Clarisse’s Italian roots betraying themselves. ‘She’s not right.’

He’d heard this all before. Preston pushed himself forward, relaxation shifting to tension. ‘Clarisse, how many times-‘

‘But Father,’ her tones were quick and curt, ‘she is so…. She’s not right.’

‘It is the decision of the Council,’ his words were patient but swift, ‘that she is fit for duty. She is a formidable asset,’ the father licked his lips, finding a new crack between the ridged and dry skin. ‘Sister Levanah is here to stay.’

Clarisse hooked her stray hairs behind a pale white ear, her features becoming more pinched with frustration. ‘Asset? How can you talk about her in that way?’

Preston blinked. It was a habit, talking of human beings as if they were an assemblage of military hardware. But that wasn’t what she was getting at was she…?

‘She’s…’ Clarisse’s almost painful propriety was holding her back, but the slight widening of her eyes and thin edge to lips was worth a 1000 curses. ‘Different. She’s so…. Keeps to herself, won’t talk to the rest of them, and Preston,’ Clarisse’s eyes somehow widened further, ‘she’s so powerful. I’ve not once seen anything like it.’

The Sister’s eyes were frightening… A man with a gun - face pulled and locked with rage, eyes just pricks of animal violence – was more manageable than that stare. He could tell she was serious, that somehow Sister Levanah frightened Clarisse more than a strangler at the door.

Preston breathed for a moment in silence, the howl of the wind filling the room. ‘She has the backing of the Mr Torre.’

‘That boy? Who is he to meddle with Monastery affairs?’

‘That boy is a man. A man who will one day be in charge of this,’ he lifted a hand and slowly circled it in the air, ‘and us. He is apprenticed to the Master and will one day be a master himself. If he agrees that Sister Levanah is capable and fit for the duty of this office, then we are not in a place to disagree.’

She pressed her lips closed carefully.

‘Sister, I suggest you sweep any misgivings or ill feelings you have for Miss Levanah under a thick carpet,’ he was sure to lean back and place a casual but well observed hand on his dog collar. It was a subtle move, but Clarisse needed to be reminded of who was in charge here.

‘Father,’ her lips were still pressed closed but for the barest gap.

‘I believe Miss Levanah has an upcoming mission in fact,’ Preston steered the conversation back to the mission objectives.

‘To Egypt…’

‘Good. Well, see to it that she is well equipped.’

Sister Clarisse made a movement that could loosely be interpreted as a nod.

‘God speed then.’

As Clarisse rose and left, a treacherous thought entered Preston’s mind. It was something he had thought before, a feeling he could not shake: Sister Levanah’s time was short. He may not be privy to the Council’s logic, but it was clear she was slipping from their favour. Increasingly they sent her on dangerous missions with little or no back up, perhaps hoping for a convenient accident in the field. Clarisse was right, Levanah was powerful, perhaps more powerful than the Professor himself, and even, with training, the Master. But she did not seem to be a threat. She was quiet, yes, and withdrawn, but not antisocial. She simply seemed to be stuck in her head…

She didn’t deserve what was coming to her…

Preston pushed himself back into his chair, his shoulders tight and clenched.

Would Sister Levanah become the first ‘rogue’ in the modern history of the SIS?

It would happen soon, she could feel it.

Sister Levanah grabbed at the wads of paper cluttering her desk and pawed them to one side.

She could feel it in the spells.

Levanah collected her notes on the tributaries of the Nile Delta and the associated topographical analysis and pulled them into a neat pile.

This morning she’d seen a shape on the frosted pane of a monastery window. The condensation had collected right at the rim of the cracked wood, and just between the impossibly small droplets of water: a twisted set of lines. A sign.

She’d been taught to read them. She knew what it said – the cold wet sign staring back at her through the warped glass: her world was about to crumble.

Just as he’d predicted. But Levanah couldn’t stand that thought, couldn’t stand the way it clutched and twisted at her stomach.

She’d spent most of her life ignoring him after all.

To find that he could be right…. Impossible….

She had maintained her distance from him all these years, kept a careful watch never to run into him in a corridor or be left suddenly alone in some room. It was the way he stared into her eyes and asked: ‘Levanah I need your help with some spell,’ or: ‘Levanah I do not understand this Sigil,’ or: ‘Levanah please help me learn this’.

She put a hand to her stomach and swallowed, suddenly unable to pay attention to the geography of the Nile Delta.

It was the way he always chose to stand right next to her whenever anyone was around. Even if it was the Master or a Council member: he would sit next to her or stand just before her as if trying to block her view.

‘Sister Levanah are you well?’ or: ‘Sister Levanah how are your studies?’ or: ‘Sister Levanah, your last mission, I heard that you were hurt – please be more careful.’

Those soft brown eyes would seem so genuine and the lilt of his Italian accent would ring in her ear.

‘Fine,’ was all she ever seemed to be able to answer.

But after all these years the searching in his eyes would never stop. He would duck his head slightly, trying to adjust for their height difference, furrow his brow and stare out from under his cropped but loose black curls. ‘Sister Levanah I am glad that you are fine.’

But then he stopped.

He didn’t stand next to her or chase after her in the corridors. He wouldn’t pull her aside at some function or wave across the grounds. He wouldn’t even look at her.

But everyone else would, especially the Clergy: the Council Members with their strict unsmiling faces and stiff white robes. They looked at her just as they looked at the witches: with disdain and barely disguised hate.

Only Father Preston smiled at her anymore, but even he couldn’t force himself to find joy in it. Those grey eyes would always flicker with regret when he chanced upon her in the hall or he handed her some new mission.

It had continued for months, months of slow isolation until finally Mr Torre had caught her arm and pulled her into an empty room. Heart pounding, he hadn’t stopped pulling her until they’d reached a nook in the cold stone wall, a solitary statue of Mother Mary staring out at them.

‘Levanah, Levanah!’ his voice had been quick and irritated, not with anger but desperation.

In the dark room all she could see clearly was the outline of his face and the quick tick of his head.

‘W-w-what is it Mr Torre?’

‘Get out of here,’ he shook her arm, not painfully, but with sharp insistence, ‘Get out of here Levanah.’

‘But… you brought me in here…’

‘The Sect,’ he bit at his lips, ‘The Sect Levanah, you have to leave the Sect.’

‘Leave?’

‘They have plans for you Levanah, awful plans.’

Her face had grown so cold, and unable to feel her cheeks, lips or forehead she’s just opened her mouth with nothing to say.

‘Levanah, you must listen to me. Nothing is what it appears to be, nothing. You must trust me,’ he dipped his head forward, blocking what little moonlight filtered in through the high windows. ‘Levanah you must leave.’

‘But… why?’

‘Because they want…’ he bit into his lips much harder this time: flashes of white against purple and red, ‘to kill you.’

Kill her? Her? ‘The Sect does not kill anyone, why would they want to kill me?’

‘Because of… because of me.’

‘You?’

He put a hand up, but it just hung in the space between them. Then it fell, whatever purpose he intended it for falling with it. ‘Just leave. Get as far away from the Sect as possible. They will go after you, but you, you, will be able to take them.’

Take them? Fight her own people? They may hate her but… ‘No,’ she had pushed away from him, knocking an elbow backwards onto the statue of Mary. It fell against the stone with a hollow clunk, a crack running up its side.

‘Levanah,’ he stretched out a hand, but she shrugged out of the way.

‘Nobody wants to kill me, nobody wants me dead. I haven’t done anything wrong, I’ve always done what I’ve been told, I’ve always completed any mission they’ve assigned me. So no… this is all I know.’

‘Levanah.’

She’d left the room, pulled her robe around her, and not looked back once.
That had been several months ago now, and she hadn’t seen him again since. She had convinced herself that his rambling was nothing to heed.

But now he was right wasn’t he? She couldn’t deny it any longer, she couldn’t stop running from this truth. Something was happening in the Sect: the missions she was being sent on, the stares from her supervisors, the mumblings of the other students. And the signs, she couldn’t ignore the signs.
Were they really trying to kill her? Would this mission to Egypt be her last?

It had taken her almost a half hour before her eyes had been able to focus on the pronged fork of the Nile again, but even then her attention was just as shallow as her waning faith in SIS

Egypt had been her last mission, he had been right on that. But Levanah hadn’t died, though in the years that passed from that fateful day – she had often wished for as much.

Her nights were now spent alone, her days spent in hiding: just as Mr Torre had predicted, Levanah was on the run from the SIS.

Egypt had seen her team turn on her. Egypt had seen her crash to her knees in despair, trickles of blood lacing down from gashes in her forehead and arms. Egypt had seen her ready to give up, unwilling to fight her own and incapable of turning from all that she knew.

Because deep down, as the flashes of fire and water had burst against her, she had known that there was no way to fight. No one could truly leave the SIS, there was nowhere to run.

They had your name after all – the means to instantly destroy you.

Everyone who worked for the SIS, from the Clergy to the brothers and sisters – none of them had first names. It was not a cultural thing, but something much more sinister. Every first name was turned into a Sigil and kept in the Cathedral Libraries. That Sigil, once concentrated on by the Council, could be used to remotely kill its namesake: an insurance, should anyone turn to treason.

They had her Sigil, she had no way out.

So she had not bothered to fight, choosing to succumb to the ferocious elemental magic erupting around her. If she escaped, after all, they would simply use her name to deliver the lethal blow.

Blackness had surrounded her and lifted her up: pushing up against her like a set of dark arms. But just as the arms had locked around her throat, and her last breaths and been squeezed from puckered lips – they had let go.

He had saved her.

The witch that the SIS team had been sent in to hunt, had suddenly and inexplicably erupted from its cage, casting vicious spells in all directions.
The crashing, suffocating darkness spell that had been cast on Levanah had broken, and he, the Professor, had snaked two arms out of the dusk light and pulled her away.

The SIS agents hadn’t noticed as he’d dragged her to safety behind a shadowed rocky ledge.

‘Levanah,’ he’d pressed two scraps of paper into her palm, and run one hand through her sweat drenched hair.

She’d looked at the paper, eyes burning from the heat of battle, but desperately trying to focus on the parchment before her through the dim light: two sigils.

‘They’re our names.’

She just stared at them dumbly.

‘I stole them from the Library… I need you to take them and leave… don’t ever come back.’

Water, blood and sweat had matted her hair like mud. ‘Our names… but why?’

‘You have to promise to do something for me,’ he’d pushed them further into the shadow of the outcrop as the battle waged on outside. ‘You have to promise to use my Sigil.’

‘Use it?’ no thought in her head was clear, everything was so blurred with pumping adrenaline and the bitter taste of iron tinged blood.

‘To kill me.’

‘Kill you?’

‘Not yet… when I turn… you’ll know when… but you have to promise me to use it. Promise me that you’ll kill me.’

‘No.’

‘Levanah-‘

‘No.’

But that had been three years ago now. As of the beginning of 2009, Levenah had been on the run from the SIS for three years, the first rogue agent in modern history.

**********I would really, really love any feedback on this. I'm not sure if the above works properly - so if anyone has any comments or suggestions please, please tell me.