How will I be remembered? This is a question almost everyone both magical and non-magical across the realms and in various periods of time would ask themselves particularly in their final moments and Amabel Alison was no exception to it.

She stood face to face with the Monarch’s right hand goon, unsurprisingly, another Alison clan witch. However, unlike Amabel, this Alison had the distinctively wine red hair and sea weed green eyes that distinguished them from the pack. She was as gorgeous as could be expected and Amabel wondered, had her life been different, whether she’d have had the hour-glass figure or the asymmetrical face, the cute button nose or the bow-shaped lips that women of her clan often displayed.

Not that Amabel could complain. She was a gorgeous woman herself albeit having dark as midnight hair and pearly white skin. Her figure though petite was not without its charm and often served to lure in her victims. Which really made Amabel wonder, how would she remembered?

Would the author granted the rights to write her biography describe her as the scared little girl that had been kidnapped with many other children and tortured until she was of age thus painting Amabel as a victim or would she rather refer to what Amabel had become since those events?

For Amabel had avenged herself hundredfold. Anyone even vaguely associated with her kidnap and torture for the first 21 years of her life had been purged from existence by her own hand. Perhaps she had been too harsh but then maybe she was justified…

Would the author note how a 21 year old witch-water nymph hybrid who had been taught the forbidden arts since she could read had then gone on to develop a corrupted form of the healing arts, turning Prana Energy (or energy that connected all lifeforms to the nature’s own energy) into an enslavement tool? Would they note how this hybrid had then gone on to obtain powers long forgotten from the Earth, Melusine powers, and use them to her advantage?

Would her biography speak of the numbers slain or enslaved? Would they speak of the prolific serial killing expertise she had amassed throughout her 32 year long reign of terror? Would they speak of her eluded captures and how much of a thorn in the side of the Protectors’ Agency she had been?

Perhaps a few footnotes would speak of the little good she did for her family or most recently, of her decision to fight on the side of witches. They’d note, however, that this was not because she had suddenly changed for the better or repented. No, this would be truthfully noted as her rebellion against a Monarch far more powerful than she had ever been, a Monarch that challenged her reign.

For the Monarch of the dark world was the physical embodiment of evil in the world. The Monarch had powers far beyond Amabel’s- powers she could only dream of. And Amabel would not bow down to her or to anyone. There seemed to be only one choice- become the thorn at the side of the Monarch as much as she had been the scourge of the First Plane of Existence.

And so, perhaps she was far too narcissistic for her own good but she had done something worthwhile. She had helped witches escape that dark world by helping them travel to other timelines where versions of herself still reigned. She had essentially invented ‘Spirit Mail’. She was an innovator…

Ah, Spirit Mail. She smirked in the face of her executioner. She had used her dark powers to channel pure Prana Energy and use that to convert living spirits and bodies into ‘Spirit Water’ thus changing their forms from intangible to tangible in liquid form. She had then used her home world- which took whichever form of water body she pleased into a medium to transport these spirits to other timelines. Amabel called this ‘service’ Spirit Mail. She chuckled yet again. How cheekily clever she was…

However, the witches she transported to other timelines were nothing but a drop in the ocean- in the grand scheme of things, it meant nothing… or so she had began to despairingly think until a special Alison clan witch paid her a visit with the evil one’s Protector in tow.

Amabel was glad to have given the couple trouble but even when they apprehended her and promised to make her death as painfully slow and torturous as possible, she simply smirked at them knowing the Monarch had found her activities worthy of their visit. The Monarch did not send out right hand women for just anybody and so, if not for anything else, she would die happy for having caused the Monarch trouble.

However, as the executioner drew closer, poison in hand ready to force it down her throat, she continued to wonder about how she’d be remembered. Amabel did not understand why it even mattered.Who cares what a snot-nosed nobody wrote about her? She was a Melusine unlike any other that had ever existed. She was the infamous Lady of the Placid Lake- the one that struck fear into the hearts of men. She had avenged herself hundredfold for all who wronged her, leaving not a single soul behind to tell the tale…

And yet, Amabel wondered what the outcome would be had she chosen differently. Had Adeline Aurora’s illegitimate daughter with an unidentified water nymph prince lived a normal life, would she have been remembered for being more than a nuisance?

Aurora Alison, the executioner smirked at her saying, “Oh I am going to enjoy watching you writhe in pain.”

Amabel smiled. “Give me your worst. Don’t hold back, please,” she replied, mocking Aurora. However, Aurora was suddenly unable to move any further.

Enraged, she faced Amabel who was staring up at her curiously from the kneeling vantage point she was forced down to.

‘Leal, are you sure the magical field is secured?’ Aurora asked her Protector telepathically. He nodded.

‘Why, what’s up?’ he asked worriedly.

‘I can’t move any closer to her,’ she responded.

Leal went around the scope of the magical field he and Aurora had set up to ensure only their magic could be performed within it. It still seemed intact so he did not understand why Aurora could not move closer to their target.

“Having second thoughts? I hope not because I promise you that if you don’t kill me tonight, I will kill you and everyone you’ve ever loved or cared about,”

Aurora laughed scoffing at her absurd threat. “Everyone I’ve ever cared about is right here with us in this room and don’t worry about dying. I am just taking some time to enjoy these last few moments. They go by so fast,”

Amabel cackled. “You’re a terrible lair, Aurora dearest,”

Amabel looked around wondering what could be causing the interruption. Precious moments passed by before anything else happened until at long last and she couldn’t explain how but everything seemed to move in a blur and the next thing Amabel knew, she was in some kind of heavily fortified security facility. She tried escaping from the container but was unable to do so even through trying to access the larger Lake which was her home. She angrily hit against the glass persistently, demanding to be set free, threatening retribution for all involved in her capture.

“That sure is a poor way of thanking the people that saved your life,” spoke a disembodied feminine voice through the speaker.

“Let me out of this cage and perhaps I shall spare your life and the lives of your family,”

The speaker chuckled as if Amabel had said the funniest thing she had ever heard. “I guess we’re just gonna have to risk that,” she stated and Amabel did not hear from the speaker again.

The question of how she would be remembered lingered as the days and nights passed in the nameless facility that she called home. Amabel, however, never lacked anything in that place and unlike the Klondike Research Facility that had once been a prison for her, she was not under any duress or pain.