Legend of Pandora - Prologue

The woman's face curled into a sneer, revealing her canine fangs. She could smell it, the scent of fear mingling with that of her prey. She would take her time; there was no hiding from a demon her power. Her eyes shone dark maroon in the fading twilight. Her hair ran down like a waterfall of darkness to the small of her back. Her shirt covered only her chest, revealing her muscular arms and body. Short leader shorts and knee-length leather boots covered her calves. From the tops of her boots, handles of sheathed, unknown weapons glinted malignantly in the light.

The demoness turned in an alley, the smell of fear and magic was strong. As she walked down the alley, she turned her head this wand that, her nose and ears straining for any sign of her target. It didn't take long; her prey presented itself to her. A small rustle in a large heap of trash was the only sign she needed. She turned, her scowl becoming the usual sneer. "You can come out now, mortal. I have all etermity to wait here… unlike you."

For ten minutes, nothing happened. The demoness stood still, hand on her hip. She cursed under her breath out of impatience, and lifted her hand. She snapped her fingers, and a ball of fire flicked into life. She laughed, "You are trying my patience, mortal," and threw it toward the trash heap, purposefully missing. Her master wouldn't want her to kill the target. The box would leave if the target was killed. They'd already spent a decade looking for her.

The girl gasped as fire exploded above her. She shifted, sending more junk cascading down the pile. The golden dagger at her belt glowed, which would've given her position away had the demoness not found her by now. She took it out of its shealth, but dared not throw it. Looking down at the box in her hands, she reassured herself of its safety. Taking a deep breath, she set the box down, and stood up, brandishing her dagger at her enemy.

The demoness' sneer grew more sinister in amusement. Her hand once again went up in flames. "Give me the box, mortal, and I might spare your life."

The girl didn't move a muscle, which only further angered the demon. She gripped the dagger tighter, took aim, and threw the dagger at the demon. She yelled out something unintelligible, trash scattering from some unseen force.

The demoness didn't move. Instead, she threw fire at the girl, but she couldn't hit her; something was hardening the air around the girl. The demoness finally registered what the dagger had done. A small scratch on her arm was oozing jet-black ichor. A golden light was lightly playing on her tanned skin. "Shit," she muttered. The dagger had been laced with pure light. The dagger lay against the wall behind her, now pulsating faded light. The demoness could walk around in the sunlight of this world, but this was a different kind of light; it was purging, clearing, burning. Her face contorted with pain as the demon placed her hand over the cut. Seconds later, the ichor and light were gone. Reaching down, she unsheathed two weapons; each a double-bladed, thin, scimitars.

The girl knew it was her end. She stood still, her mind flowing, connecting to the power within in her. She gave her final prayer;

"O, higher powers, give me the strength to face my end. Let my spirit fly, send my charge on, and let me meet death as an equal."

Without any hesitation, the girl threw out her hard, magic hardening the air and sending it toward the demoness at speeds too fast for any mortal to dodge.

But the demoness wasn't mortal. She dodged the assault easily, fury raging on her face. The immortal twirled one weapon, before throwing it with unnatural speed and precision, and the girl gasped as the weapon thumped and protruded from her stomach. It wasn't by any means a fatal wound. She would slowly bleed to death instead.

"Give. Me. The. Box," the demon spat out.

The girl shook her head.

The demon clicked her tongue as a mother might do to her child had they done something wrong. Her hand wound up and released, slapping the girl full-force across the face with the back of her hand. "Wrong answer," she said. She walked toward the lone box.

It was made of flawless obsidian. Carvings of good were contrasted with ones of evil. A lightning bolt was carved into the lid. This was her prize. The container of all the evils in the world. The gift given to the first woman in the world. Pandora's Box. As the demoness bent down to retrieve her prize, it evaporated into smoke that blew through the demon's fingers. She roared with fury.

The girl looked at her attacked. "Have fun back down in Hell… Gwendolyn."

The demoness looked at the girl. "How did you know that, Protector of the Box?"

The girl shook her head.

Gwendolyn's fury reached its peak. She could deal with the consequences later. In a trance fueled by rage, she screamed out, "Die, bitch!" as she threw a fireball at the collapsed girl. She disintegrated into dust instantly. The pile blew down the alley with the faint wind.

Gwendolyn looked around. No witnesses, good. But, now she must return to her master, Balthazar, and start the look for the Box again.

The golden dagger, the last testament to the Protector's attempt at life, stopped pulsating and the light faded. When the last light was gone, nothing was left but an ordinary steel dagger, which blew into dust with its mistress.