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On outskirts of the Village of Krodasch, there lived an old woman, said to be wise beyond years of comprehension. Many claimed she was a witch with the powers to see into the future, and to heal the wounded, and wake the dead. The locals dubbed her, “The Oracle”. Others claimed she was just a batty old lady who knew a few simple tricks and nonsense. Not many people have met her to make these claims. Most were just speculated ramblings of the village drunks, and idiots, save one.
Mister Johan Owens was, at one time, a very prominent man about town. He was fluent in three languages, not including his own. Mister Owens practically owned the Village of Krodasch. His family members were the first settlers there, and founded the small town.
When Johan was young, he met a very beautiful, very intelligent woman. They were to be married the following spring. Margaretta, however, was plagued with headaches and visions in that early fall. There was nothing the doctors could do. They told her to go and rest, outside the village, away from the commotion and goings on. What they really meant was, away from them. The work of the devil was not tolerated in the village. Cast aside, by the village, and unfortunately, Johan, and not by his means. Since then, Johan lost all that was his. The family business folded, his home burned by fire, and his love cast outwards.
She was angered and enraged. It was said that she had cast a spell over her love, that he would know no love, again as long as she were alive and he was away from her. But those were petty rumors among the village drunks and idiots, save one.
Margaretta didn’t dare return to the village during the daylight hours for fear of her once loyal village friends, turning against her. She would only return once a month for simple grocery needs and new wool fabrics for clothing.
She walked slowly in the evening moonlight toward the village she once called home. As she walked to the general store, she could feel something strange in the air, something not quite right.
She touched the door handle to the store, and a vision hit her mind like a stray ox. The light of the store went dim, and her eyesight blurred over. Visions of pain and anger overcame her.
She quickly shook it off, and entered the store.
The owner of the store, a third generation family member, always stayed open once a month for his special guest. Mister Locke always had her order ready for when she arrived. He was always prepared for his client, not for her sake, but for the sake of his business. Should anyone notice her in his store, he would be outcast into the wilderness with his once a month customer.
As she approached the counter, the vision struck again. This time she saw Mister Locke’s demise with a horrible creature of death. Margaretta, tried to shake it off again, but not so easily done, this time. She quickly paid for her things and rushed out the door fearfully looking behind her every few steps.
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