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| Angele de la Barthe |
There, on the far side of the pit, hung the limp bodies of Karl and Petra.
Almost unrecognizable, they had been clawed open and shredded beyond disbelief. Intestines draped from abdomen to puddles of blood below.
Their hearts were on a spit, turning slowly over flickering flames. Gunther cowered in a corner, his mouth opening and shutting in soundless terror.
Kylyu** existed beyond memory. She had appeared full blown onto an innocent world and slathered it with her evil. Kylyu rejoiced in the destruction she had wreaked in her trail through time. An ancient witch was she.
Incensed, Kylyu recognized and despised Snow White's power, blinded by its purity and unimaginable power. I have found her. Destroy her, finally. She arose from piles of bones, clutching a gnarled staff. She hobbled from her foul lair to reveal herself, ready to unleash annihilation on this potent adversary.
Kylyu. Haggard and skeletal with mottled skin stretched taut over bones, she emerged from her darkness. "So, White Child, you stand before me. At last." Holding her staff tightly, the witch limped to the fire, pulling a strand of Karl's heart. Licking it, biting it, she offered some to Snow White. "Do you prefer charred or still bleeding?"
**
Gaelic Language
Aingeal (Ine-gull): Spirit being
Caileach (Kile-yuh) Kylyu: witch
Anam (Ah-nuhm): Immortal, non-material part of a person
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