The O'Sullivan Chronicles
by the Banshee

Prologue

My first conscious memory was of fire: the embers of a raging inferno. The heat scalded my smooth skin and I cried the tears a witch is never supposed to cry. I was an infant. Infants cry, but I was confused. Thrust from peaceful darkness into angry light, I was frightened. My mother held me in her scarred arms, crying and saying words in a tongue unfamiliar to my newborn ear. Everything was new to me. I understood none of it, but I had an intellect that comprehended more than my first few minutes of life was ever meant to comprehend.

My mother’s last act upon this earth was to baptize me in the flames that would claim three lives and five souls. She held me in her arms, her face red from the intense heat. A willowy light stood above us, it grabbed me from my mother and passed me thrice over the flames. The light took shape where a face should have been and a beautiful woman smiled down at me. The smile vanished and the light handed me back to my mother, leaving me to wail more out of fear and confusion.

"My darling, Katie, " she had said calmly, "our first meeting becomes our last. Always know that I loved you. Your father and brothers loved you."

My cries had stopped and I stared at this woman with emerald eyes and ruby hair. She still managed a smile despite the fate bearing down upon her. A child's scream echoed from within the structure. My mother listened, closing her eyes and praying to St. Brigit. She smiled at me one last time.

One lone tear trailed down her cheek as she said, "I curse thee, Paul. My daughter shall rise and avenge the lives you have taken. Blessed be, my sweet Katie." Her eyes closed and her grip upon me relaxed.

I was left alone, surrounded by the flames. My lungs filled with the pungent, smoky air. My little body convulsed with coughs as I gasped for breath. Finally, the smoke consumed me and my memory faded.

My mortal form ended there, but my immortal one watches from above. I am the wind that whispers through the limbs of the forest trees. I am the howl through the crack in the window. I am the storm that darkens the day. I am the shadow that crosses the moon. I am the one whose flesh is cold and heart is aflame. For I am the child born of fire. I am the Banshee. I await to avenge the lives of the innocent.

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