Of course the council was worthless, that is how Beatrice designed it after all. Whining about it would not help Beatrice’s situation now, so it would be best to push such things from her thoughts. Even so, she allowed herself a moment to be frustrated about the whole ridiculous situation. From the council chambers to the front doors of city hall, that was all she would give herself.

Dutifully waiting outside, shifting from side to side, stood her apprentice, who ran up to her as she exited, just barely tall enough to carry his staff. The staff they had both made together only a year ago. She found herself looking at the young tengu and felt a ping of sadness. She hoped he’d be able to find a mentor, his potential was too great to have wither away.

“What’d they say, mentor?” Hitoshi asked, though suspected he already knew the answer when he saw Beatrice’s scowl.

“That the acceptance ceremony for whatever fool O’ Dubghall they are placing in the druidic seat simply must be completed.” She huffed, continuing to walk down the street, expecting Hitoshi to follow. “We shall see how important the little toads will feel after the yokai has stabbed them all.”

“Then it's up to us...” Hitoshi muttered, nervously.

“Yes...” Beatrice side eyed the child. “Us. Hitoshi, I wish for you to head to the manor.”

“Mentor, I can help!” He argued, rushing forward to stand before Beatrice. He stood defiantly, meeting her gaze, and she grunted in frustration. 

Of course he would defy her, she should expect nothing else. After all, who was it that encouraged such traits within him? They would serve him well one day. But today it would only get him killed.

“Of course you can help, Hitoshi.” Beatrice frowned, impatient. “You will help by going to the manor, retrieving Rickett, and joining me for the assault against the Kisamareta-onna.”

Hitoshi blushed somewhat, shrinking within himself. “Oh...right.”

Beatrice sighed, placing a hand on his shoulders. “Remember what I’ve told you, preparation is the key for all things, especially in regards to necromancy. Go, tell Rickett to fetch the basilisk oil and the urn in my office. He will know what to do. I shall meet you both in the clearing the yokai was sighted.”

“Yes, mentor.” Hitoshi said, with a short bow. “I’ll join you as fast as I can.”

“I do not doubt it.” She gave a supportive smile, and watched the young boy run off, as a dark red crow landed upon the crook of her staff.

“I wonder if you shall be so skillful at dispensing lies next time?” Cornelius mused with a slight tilt to his head.

“Well, let us find out together.” Beatrice snorted, turning to head off.

As she strode to meet her fate, her mind wandered. It seems even in her final moments, her brain was either unwilling or unable to keep things where they lie. 

There was no guarantee that her next life would be able to find all of her plans or secrets, she must simply hope they would be, and she despised trusting fleeting things such as hope. 

She had done all she could in making sure the town grew in a way that strengthened the Seal. And even in his addled state, she could trust that Jebbadah would not allow anything to deviate from the plan. Or at least trust him as much as she trusted anything else. 

“Perhaps the next DeWinter shall be more trusting.” Cornelius snickered, as if reading her thoughts.

“I will settle for them not to be foolish.” Beatrice tutted. “And a quick study.”

“Now someone is getting greedy.” She could almost hear the smile in the bird's voice. “It would be simpler to ask that they fly to the moon, or end all war.”

“We’ve done both once.” Beatrice snorted. “I suppose they would be easier the second time.”

“To be foolishless would be a first, however.” Cornelius responded snidely.

“Har-har.” Beatrice responded dryly, as they approached their destination. “Any last minute advice, old friend?”

“Yes. This is going to hurt.” Cornelius told her, before flying off.

“That isn’t advice.” Beatrice called after him. Sighing, she shook her head, and with a small rueful smile, entered into the clearing. 

There was little sign of the grizzly scene that had happened here earlier in the week. The druids had done their work quickly, to preserve the peace of the woods, removing the mutilated corpses. However, death still hung in the air, the smell of blood heavy.

This was where the first, largest and most gruesome of the murders happened, so it would be a simple matter to summon the yokai to this arena. And, while the site of death would strengthen its powers, Beatrice was a necromancer, death was her boon as well.

Drawing a dark green sigil into the air, she called out, “I name thee, Butcher, I compel you to this site of death! Obey!” The sigil grew, as blood that had seeped into the ground slowly rose, and spread, making a similar sigil upon the land she stood upon. The red turned green as her sigil disappeared, and a light dim glow shone in the night.

A slow, high pitched laugh broke the silence of the night air. Slowly appearing in front of her, the laughing growing louder and louder, was the looming form of the hannya, Kisamareta-onna. The hannya pointed its bloody dagger to Beatrice, and burst into a fit of threatening cackles.

Beatrice let go of her staff, which stood in place as she tightened the gloves on her hands. As Cornelius returned to his perch, Beatrice drew another sigil into the air. As the casting went off, so too did the sigil of blood.

A huge concussive green blast overtook the entire clearing, singing and blowing away parts of the surrounding treelines. As the dust settled, Beatrice stared down the hannya, who continued to giggle, even though its ghostly robes seemed singed by the spell. As it readied to lunge, Beatrice grabbed for her staff and, as Cornelius flew away once more, spun it into a fighting stance, waiting for the hannya to attack.

The hannya lunged, and Beatrice spun to the left, side stepping the yokai. As she moved, she deftly cast three separate runes that began to create a shimmering yellow cage around it. Even though it continued to giggle, it looked about, the mask showing great concern.

“HA!” Beatrice called out with a momentarily smug grin. Perhaps, she thought, she had overestimated the yokai.

Then the dagger went deep into her abdomen. She falls to her knees as Kisamareta-onna looms in its cage, giggling growing louder and more confident. Beatrice looks up to it, blood falling from her nose and mouth, and gives a smug grin.

She lifted her staff, before planting it steadfast onto the ground in front of her, and placed both her palms out towards the hannya. She grunted in pain, faltering somewhat as the blade was yanked from her gut, floating at the center of the yokai and herself, her blood trailing after it.

The blood started to spread past the blade, and formed into tendrils that began to wrap around the panicking, yet still giggling, hannya. Beatrice gripped her staff, and slammed it to the group, and a faint glow of green sparked along the blood as Kisamareta-onna was absorbed into the knife.

Spell cast, the knife, and Beatrice, fell to the forest floor. Blood pooled around Beatrice, causing the surrounding grass to decay and rot, as she struggled to breath.

Cornelius perched himself down on the staff, standing over Beatrice, who met his gaze, heaving. “Alright Cornelius...” she wheezed. “Find me.”

As the raven took off, Beatrice closed her eyes.

And Isaac’s opened.