Agnes Mortem, High Witch of the Black, was livid. She’d been in the middle of a delicate operation to perfect her prized flower-cutting Curse when the System call to arms arrived. Even enraged, a Breach was serious enough business that she didn’t delay. Grabbing two of her Coven sisters, Agnes used the Curse of Distance to transport them rapidly towards the imminent battleground. Upon arrival all three women were met with a blaring System message that brought cold rage into their eyes.

Reinforcements have arrived!

Breach closed by Raphael of the Bronze Flight!

The System has rewarded the sole defender, Raphael Sunstrider with a Bloodline upgrade!

The Dragon’s Pact is upheld, honor and glory to those who did so!

ZONE DEFENSE QUEST CLOSED!

THE BREACH IS SEALED!

Old Agnes as she was called when anger marred her features turned to look at the sun-struck idiot lizard behind her before asking with venom, “What the fuck is going on here lizard?” She watched as the Dragon realized he was facing three angry Tier Sevens.

Rather than looming over the older Witches, the Dragon immediately shifted to a more agreeable male form. Agnes noted he wasn’t a bad specimen, but then she always did prefer the arrogant nobleman’s look. It added spice to a normally bland relationship, at least until her paramours realized she wasn’t going to help them topple a kingdom to place them on a pointless throne. Agnes attention moved like one of those new-fangled cutting tools from the gnomes, a laser, the moment the Dragon started speaking.

“I took a contract with the Arena from Sunspire City nearby. Here, I have my copy available.” the Dragon said, hastily pulling a scroll from somewhere. The elderly witch immediately recognized a space mage’s signature Spell, Item Box. Her eyes narrowed as the possibilities that required involving a mage utilizing a High Element were slim. This lizard didn’t stink of blood, bile, ichor, or combat smoke so something fishy was up for sure.

Agnes checked the scroll for traps, poison, and Curses before opening it to read.

Raphael Sunstrider agrees to hunt the combatant, Lady Eve in order to contain her so that capture forces may arrive.

In return, the Arena of Sunspire agrees to pay the Bronze Dragon known as Raphael Sunstrider, a sum of two thousand platinum coins, five elven servants of professional polishing Skill at Master level, and twenty-four noble box seat tickets for the following year.

This contract is bound under the System by all parties signature below.

Agnes raised her eyebrow at Raphael, it was the same move she used on wayward apprentices to get them to spill the beans. The Dragon was no more able to resist it then her own bratty apprentice witches and he rushed to say, “I didn’t know she was a Witch. I swear on the Dragon God. As soon as I identified her, I took action to kill the other mages attempting to capture her!”

The elderly witch paused as the words sunk in, briefly checking one of her hanging Curses, the Curse of Truth she had been running on the sly. Both of her Coven sisters glanced at her, and placed a hand on her shoulders. The two sisters were part of Helen Frost’s brood, and a few centuries younger, but they knew Old Agnes story as well as any Coven Sister would.

Hunting witches. Agnes thought her blood boiling. A young witch going through the same shit I took a millennium to stamp out after I experienced it myself? Red rage colored her eyes for a moment before she got control of her emotions. A cold icy rage replaced the heat, and her calculating mind started working in multiple directions.

Her power flexed as the Curses she hung about her person responded in almost visceral cold fury. Only the two younger witches at her side kept her from ripping the Dragon into tiny chunks of meat. Agnes took a deep breath and said, “Talk, worm.”

The Dragon literally stumbled over his words in order to explain everything as fast as possible. It took the better part of a quarter hour, and allowed two older Tier Seven Dragons to arrive. Agnes didn’t begrudge the older lizards their curiosity. It wasn’t every century a Breach occurred anywhere on the planet of Tal Mor, as the System’s defenses were rather solid. As soon as the younger dragon finished speaking Agnes and the two older ones spent a few moments discussing the problem before obliterating the Portal Steles. She would need to check the records, but Light Elves were at least ten millenniums old, and demons predated that. It wasn’t strange that a gate to the Prison Plane had been missed in the purges. There were rumors of other such gates, but they were mostly confined to Infra Opaca.

“It appears to be a horrific case of Dragon Greed gone wrong in a youngling.” the older Red Dragon, Nathaniel Smoke said, in a sad tone as the Portal Steles were finally vaporized by Dragon Breath and the Curse of Decay.

“Indeed, our apologies, Agnes Black. How would you like this matter handled?” the second older Black Dragon, Zachary Greenbane said, his voice calm and measured.

Agnes looked on at the younger Bronze, Raphael Sunstrider, with a gimlet eye before she said, “His hoard. We’ll take it all.” She snapped her fingers presenting a Coven Bank Card. “Transfer it over youngling, and make it snappy!”

“Fair.” The enormous Red Dragon agreed.

“More than fair.” The Black Dragon agreed.

Before the Bronze even had a chance to protest, Agnes gave a sadistic grin, “I’m sure he can figure out who to recoup his losses from. Especially with you two willing to help for a cut, eh?”

The older Dragons shifted into matching humanoid forms before patting the younger one on the shoulders. All three Dragons looked at each other their humanoid form’s faces growing crafty. Raphael Sunstrider said, “Indeed.” In unison all three turned to stare at Sunspire in the distance.

Old Agnes didn’t miss how the dragon’s eyes glowed with a furious glint. While she had her own plans for the Arena of Sunspire, there was no harm in letting the lizards charge in first. At worst they would provide a clear path to follow, at best they would cripple the enemy’s fighting strength.

Old Agnes hadn’t gotten to her age by being Bold Agnes after all.

The elderly witch retreated with her two Coven Sisters to a short distance away as the three dragons started to enthusiastically plan their mayhem.

A snap of Agnes Black’s fingers pulled her Hut to her with a little assistance from the Curse of Distance. Herding the two younger witches inside, she moved them to the parlor where tea, biscuits, scones, and the other comforts of civilization awaited. When both a Witch and her Hut were together, it was a terrifying force for both defense and offense. If the Dragons were suicidal enough to attack her Hut, nothing could save them from being eaten. She doubted it would be an issue though, young dragons were stupid worms. Old dragons were made of far smarter stuff, and weighed the consequences of acting on a better scale than the young.

Taking her favorite chair set with more padding than a whale, Agnes finally relaxed her old bones. The parlor was hung in comfortable Victorian Era, straight from an Earth luxury fashion designer of the time period. Agnes could brew a mean Potion of Youth if she was sufficiently motivated after all. As the two younger witches took a seat on the sofa, living dinnerware set upon the coffee table in the rooms centerpiece provided appropriate refreshments for everyone. There was a twist and Agnes shifted her form to the more comfortable one of a young, gorgeous, blue-eyed and black haired witch. It helped when talking with the younglings to look like them too, and Agnes saw them relax unconsciously in the minute shifting of their muscles.

No point in being a female immortal if you can’t shift your age so the cold doesn’t cut. Agnes thought before she said, “A new witch. Let’s hear thoughts, I’m sure you’ve already reported to Granny Frost, eh? Does that old bat Helen have any concerns?”

Both of the younger witches colored as they blushed. Underneath their pointy blue hats was the ice-blue eyes and blonde hair that marked the Frost bloodline. Both of the younger witches were definitely specimens that would get a second look from any man. Agnes reflected that once a witch was old enough to shift to a younger form, they still preferred handsome husbands. There was no point in inflicting descendants with ugliness after all, especially when all it took was a bit of magic to remove such problems.

“Granny was furious to hear that a small city in the boonies was hunting witches. She suggested Cursing the bloodlines of those involved, razing the Arena to the ground, and salting the land. It, uh, got much worse from there.” Wendy Frost, the younger witch farthest from Agnes said. She took a small chocolate biscuit bite after falling silent.

“She was also ecstatic to hear a new member existed.” Denise Frost, the closer witch to Agnes said. A vanilla biscuit took a noticeable dent from her attention.

Agnes nodded before saying, “As the old bat should be. You younglings haven’t experienced the Age of being hunted, but all your elders remember. Living in a time where a Witch Hunt is merely a distant memory is far better than when I grew up, back in my day we had to hunt for herbs in falling blizzards, on the tops of ancient mountains.” Both women looked a little shell shocked at the reference from the old days that Agnes threw at them.

“On the other side of the coin, the war for our own safety had immense side effects. New witches are rarer now than in the old days, and we treasure each one more than a Dragon does their Hoard.” Agnes said, her eyes growing distant as she took small bites of a scone. Sipping her jasmine tea she said, “We’ll spare no expense to find a new member.”

Denise and Wendy Frost both bowed their heads slightly in acknowledgement. While witches were not without a few disagreements here and there, such things were kept private. To the world at large, the Colored Covens were a unified force with bonds of sisterhood that transcended race, religion, or ethnicity. If a single witch was attacked, the entire alliance would respond.

“How should we handle Sunspire City?” Wendy said, her eyes gleaming with unspoken anger.

“They dare to support an organization that thinks nothing of hunting one of ours. Let the ice have them all.” Denise said, her tone cold.

“Now, now. There’s no need to be hasty girls. As a Tier Seven, we need to use measured responses. No way to know if there might be someone in the city related to one of the Big Three after all.” Agnes said, her tone a warning.

“Ah, thank you for the reminder, Auntie Agnes.” Wendy said, her anger receding, “I wouldn’t want to start something like the mortal war going on between the Serpent Empire and its neighbor, the Rothschild Realms.”

“Indeed.” Agnes said in agreement, “Conflicts scale exponentially at our level of power. A few Curses in the wrong place, and we have another desert devoid of resources. When that happens, you know the Greys will send a letter, and the Greens will be quite unhappy.”

Both of the younger witches grumbled at the two stodgiest factions in the Color Coven Alliance. Greens were always annoyed at how Blacks didn’t leave much left alive, and Greys were simply unhappy that their faction caused the most messes.

“What we need now is information on the new prospective member.” Denise said, “We should mobilize the Shadows.”

Agnes tapped one delicate rune-painted nail on the saucer of her teacup for a few seconds before she said, “Agreed. That idiot Bronze flew in headfirst without getting information, I don’t want us to suffer the same fate. Authorize their mobilization in my name.”

Denise bowed before she finished her biscuit and tea quickly, rising she bowed deeply to Agnes before exiting the Hut. Agnes could feel a Curse of Distance used nearby, before the only remaining young witch became Wendy.

“You can drop the polite act now.” Agnes said, smirking at Wendy, “Let’s hear your thoughts on how the Black Death plans to deal with the Arena and Sunspire.”

Wendy’s eyes glinted softly as the polite mask she maintained slowly vanished and a cold voice resounded in the parlor, “We’ll start with blood and end in fire. Denise is too soft for such things, so I’ll handle them Old Agnes.”

Agnes Black nodded in agreement as her eldest apprentice detailed a plan to return the dish best served cold.