Jack stared Phillip down as he pulled out his signature rusted meat cleavers. The crazed chopper flailed his weapons around wildly, attempting to intimidate his foe. Jack rushed forward, ignoring Phillip's mad swings and with one swing, Jack struck Phillip across his chest, spilling more of the black gas that seemed to have replaced his blood. Phillip screamed in frustration as he tried to land one cut on Jack. Jack tensed his legs and jumped high in the air as Phillip crouched low and swung at Jack's shins. Phillip spun around, expecting Jack to land behind him. He didn't.

As it turned out the black wings that had come out of Jack's back weren't just for show. Jack hovered above Phillip as he searched for Jack.

Jack smiled cruelly as he descended, "Looking for me?"

Phillip spun around and was run through by Wretcher's Blade. More black gas poured out of Phillip's stomach and back as Jack planted his palm on Phillip's face.

"Let's go for a ride." Jack sneered with a flap of his wings. Dust kicked up from the ground as Jack launched himself and Phillip into the air. As they flew up towards the Gypsy Camp Jack caught a glimpse of a hooded figure hiding in the trees. But when Jack tried to focus his vision on the figure it disappeared.

Jack returned his thoughts to Phillip, who was struggling in vain to break Jack's grip. Smirking, Jack threw Phillip to the ground below the as hard as he could. Phillip shot like a bullet and smashed into one of the caravans. The small, wooden, home exploded into nothing but splinters and broken boards.

"I'm sorry Phillip," Jack teased as he landed just outside the small crater that lay where the caravan was but a few seconds ago. "I thought you wanted me to put you down. Certainly seemed like it. What, with how hard you were hitting my arm."

A small crowd had started to gather around as Phillip crawled out of the crater. The crowd gasped upon seeing Phillip surrounded by the malicious black vapor that flowed freely from the several wounds that he'd received from Jack.

Phillip visibly seethed with fury. With a vicious roar he charged forward. "I'll kill you Jack! The Children have promised me victory!"

Jack merely shrugged as he stepped to the side, and swung his sword. The black metal of Wretcher's Blade sliced through Phillip's forearms like hot butter. The berserker howled as Jack brought his weapon back for the final blow.

"But the Children promised me victory."

The voice that responded did not belong to Jack the Ripper. "What made you think that mere children could protect you from me?" The question would forever be unanswered because Jack swung his blade a final time, and Phillip's head fell from his shoulders.

Lucy watched with dread fascination as Jack soared through the sky, carrying Phillip like he was a squirming child. What happened next would forever be burned into her memory. Jack looked straight at her, eyes that were once so well guarded that any hint of emotion was lost in their cold gaze, were now filled with open, seething rage. Lucy quickly retreated further into the trees, hopefully out of Jack's wrathful glare.

Safely out of Jack's line of sight, Lucy moved through the trees, following Jack and Phillip as best as she could. She heard Phillip scream, followed by a crash. Desperate not to miss anything, Lucy climbed the nearest trees to get a better vantage point. Once she reached the top, she saw Phillip crawling out of a small crater with Jack slowly descending to the ground. Using near by branches, Lucy moved closer to the two enemies as a small crowd gathered around them. When she figured she was close enough she dropped to the ground and ducked behind a bush. What occurred next happened so fast that Lucy didn't even register what happened until after the fact.

Phillip rushed at Jack howling like a wild animal, Jack, smooth as obsidian, stepped to the side as he swung. Phillip's arms were sliced clean through, followed by his head. Lucy stared at Phillip's headless corpse as black gas vented out from his stump of a neck. Suddenly the corpse started convulsing violently. Lucy watched with mute amazement as Phillip's body shriveled up. Before long the corpse looked liked it had been mummified over hundreds of years. Lucy swallowed a bit if bile that had gathered at the back of her mouth when she noticed Jack had disappeared.

"Looking for me Lucy?"

Lucy spun on the balls of her feet and there was Jack, perched on a tree branch like a balverine waiting to pounce on an unwary traveler. The phantasmal black wings draped over his shoulders like a cloak. His glowing yellow eyes glaring straight into her soul. The black, forward curving blade held tightly in his hand. Lucy unconsciously swallowed as she took the whole sight in. She stumbled back as Jack dropped from the branch.

Lucy's hand went to one of the throwing knives on her belt, "Jack?" The winged man paused his advance and curiously cocked his head. "What happened to you?"

"Do you mean before or after you stabbed me in the back?" Jack asked, slowly advancing on Lucy. "Either way, the answer's the same." As he spoke Jack caressed Lucy's face with his hand, "I survived."

Lucy found herself paralyzed as Jack pulled the arm that held his sword back. Every one of her instincts screamed at her to strike at him, to dodge his attack, hell even to run for her life. But her body wouldn't respond, she could only watch as Jack's blade descended upon her.

"Good bye Lucy."

Annette panted heavily as the ball of flame she'd been holding flared brightly for moment then died completely. Hidden in a dark corner of the room, Theresa frowned slightly as Annette tried to conjure more fire, but to no avail. In truth she was a bit disappointed with the young lady. Especially when in one of her futures, Theresa saw her little protégé flinging balls of fire the size of boulders with little to no effort. Then again this particular future also had Jack leaving his life violence in favor of joining the hippy movement in Mourningwood. Naturally Theresa wasn't exactly betting on this future to occur but it showed that Annette had the potential to become one of the most powerful mages in Albion's history.

So why is she struggling to master such a basic spell? The question gnawed on Theresa's thoughts like Sparrow's old dog would gnaw on furniture from time to time. Annette crying out in pain interrupted Theresa's thoughts.

When Theresa stepped forward to find out what happened the smell of burnt flesh wafted into her nostrils. "Are you alright Annette?" Theresa asked. Annette didn't respond as she gently started to rub her burnt skin to try and ease the pain.

As Annette rubbed her hand the pain slowly subsided and was replaced by a warm, tingling sensation. Through teary eyes Annette watched in amazement as the large, ugly burn that spread across her hand, slowly healed itself. "Theresa, are you doing this?"

Theresa gave Annette a curious glance with her blind eyes. "No, I'm not." A thousand different thoughts raced through Theresa's mind as she looked into all possible futures from this point on. She wasn't expecting what she found, but it helped clarify some things for her. Annette's powers lay not in destruction, but rather in restoration. Her earlier prowess in combat spells was only just the initial release of her powers after being bottled up inside her for seventeen years. Now that Will was flowing freely through her body, making itself apparent with glowing blue lines that spread across her skin, it was synchronizing with Annette's peaceful soul and manifesting itself as healing energy.

But she needed to test her theory. Without warning, Theresa conjured a magical blade and grabbed Annette's arm.

"Theresa what are y… AAAAGGGGHHHH!" Theresa violently stabbed the blade through Annette's upper forearm, parting flesh, muscle and sinew with its razor sharp blade.

Annette frantically backed away from Theresa, who simply stood there with her ever present cryptic smirk, and cradled her wounded arm. "What the fuck is wrong with you!"

"Seal the wound." Theresa ordered. Annette stared at her like she was insane, blood seeping from her wound, running down her arm and dribbling to the floor. "Seal the wound or else…" Theresa stopped mid-sentence as a vastly powerful, dark, and familiar aura flared outside the Spire. "No, how could he have returned?" she whispered, "Not even Karl is strong enough for this. You'd best seal that wound soon, otherwise you may die."

With that the old woman disappeared from sight, leaving Annette alone as she started to sob. The young gypsy tentatively placed her hand over the wound and pressed down on it to apply pressure. She cried out as her arm throbbed but kept on applying pressure. Suddenly the throbbing was replaced by a warm tingling sensation. At the same time a green glow started emanating from her hand, and then the pain was gone. Slowly Annette removed her hand from the spot Theresa had stabbed and was shocked to find that the wound was gone, not even a scar. Still sobbing from the last remaining bits of pain Annette worked her way over to the wall and leaned against it before drifting to sleep.