The Other Witch; Upon Wings of Whitest Snow

Salvia regained consciousness bound and suspended from the ceiling.  There was a note, turned in such a way that it was clearly intended to be read by someone dangling from the ceiling, reading, 'rope will snap if you use magic or struggle too much' and looking down she became aware that there was nothing preventing her from falling directly to the surface of whatever planet they were now parked in low atmospheric orbit over.  It would take mere minutes to impact against the open grassy fields, and Salvia found herself wondering how long it would be before anyone could identify her body if she fell.
Then came the second question, why was she still alive at all?  Hack had simply killed Braga, and any protection she possessed he too possessed.  Except, she supposed, those unique to a witch.  Some kind of witch magic must have the ability to pierce the magical defenses Hack had.  Braga, God rest his soul, had once mentioned that Hack's Cloak was matched only by Thalia's crown for the invulnerability of its defense.  And she had seen in all the old footage that he was never so much as struck by his foes.  Something always happened to stop them, or if there were too many, they simply missed outright.  It had always seemed rather contrived for him to be so invincible, pushing the limits of luck and probability.  Anything that could work in his favor, did; even if it meant that swords were turned just wrong to land a blow or a blaster's charge finally ran down before a final blow could land.  It was as though Luck itself defended him.
That must have been it.  Witches had long ago mastered Luck, learning ways to manipulate the odds of impossible events occuring, or more importantly, to eliminate that final .0001% chance that things could fail.  No one could survive killing a witch; the woe of blades befell all who had helped take their life.  And to ensure justice, the coven maintained a large number of specially enchanted blades for such a purpose.  Knives of silver to slay Lycans, of blessed wood to pierce a vampire's heart, bloodstone blades for demons and immortals, and many sturdy steel blades for those of mortal's pace.  Each one was enchanted to not simply seek their target, but to thrust themself across all of space and strike without error.  There was no way to dodge, no armor strong enough to stop them, and most important of all, no cure for their cursed wounds.  If they failed to kill, they also failed to cease bleeding; if they failed to avenge, they marked their target for eternity.  Even if Hack wanted her dead, he couldn't afford for all his allies to know he had slain a witch.  Particularly when they all knew him to have traveled with him not but days before.

But all her worries and speculations soon proved unneeded.  A blur of white was followed by a soft, serene voice.
"I thought it might come to this.  We must make haste, lest my dear one notice I am absent too long.  Battle is at hand, dark days loom about us on all sides.  The day is come that Frost, not Fire shall set the universe aright."
The air had indeed grown cold, like a dry winter's day.  The rope contracted, the began to splinter as it froze solid.  Salvia could feel her bindings begin to crumble away as though they were a thick frost, and she began to seek the words that would slow her inevitable descent.  It did not come; the bindings were replaced by a set of gripping claws, tight enough that she did not fear be let go but not so tight that she felt imperiled by them.
"You're Katherine's companion, from the cottage.  I know your voice."
"And you are Daughter Salvia, whose father-yet-not-father is Krell the reborn.  Did you read my dear one's report?  It would make you easier to relate to for me."
"No, but can I've been busy.  Can we focus on the problem of our being very high off the ground and that a good man was just killed by a guy the whole universe has believed to be more or less the last word in good guys for thousands of years but is using his daughter, your...girlfriend? to bring back his long deceased wife, by all accounts a pretty messed up lady, and that the chances of succeeding at either stopping him or at least escaping are not promising?"
"I can see why the old child is so fond of witches; you are not an amusing people.  But you are correct, and you are exactly the sort of person I need if the darkened cloak is to be stopped."
Salvia looked down across the plains and saw a grand city growing quickly on the horizon.  But between them and the city were vast armies of purple figures, all drawn up in battle lines.  Artillery and Mechs dotted the field, their metallic gleam distinct from the crystalline glint of the purple and black of the foot soldiers.  And there was fire all about, drawing lines between the city's defenders and it's attackers, and further flames spurted periodically in the midst of formations, cleaving their neat orderly patterns but never disrupting the focus of soldiers she couldn't help but recognize as Gravagan.  The city itself could be recognized easily by any of the hundred trillion Nielda of the universe as the Capitol of the Gravagan Empire, Immerstadt, the unyielding city.  High towers and statues dotted the city, and the palace rose nine stories above even the tallest tower.  On every street there was the mark of the crown and in every square a fountain or statue dedicated to their Empress' greatness.  It was an Ego trip as much as it was a city.  And today, for the first time since the Frostbourne war, when a bold Lych who's name was lost to time had slipped his fleet under the guard of all Gravaga and landed his undead horde on the city's outskirts, the city was under siege, this time by its own people.
"I will set you here, and you will have to fight your way to the streets.  Make your way to the Lost Princess Memorial Library, the Alpha of the Ga-Vok, Prince of the Nielda, and Most Daring General of Free Gravaga will be there.  Tell them what you know and what has passed.  Let the eldest guide you to the heart of shadow, and do not forget my Dear One when the time comes.  I must go to her now, the time of her casting is at hand and she must not be alone."
Salvia fell nearly fifteen feet to the ground, landing in a pile of laundry and pillows that did not seem to be there for any other reason than to cushion her fall.  She looked up just in time to see the one that had carried her, who had felt like a dragon and moved with like speed, fade into little more than a wisp of cloud that darted across the open sky towards the palace.