/lit/ - Literature

"And who are you?"
The hooded man smiled. His grin wide and wicked, peering out through the blackened confines of his shadowed face. It was a twisted, crooked, thing. It left her with a sinking feeling in her gut, like she had stumbled upon something not meant to be seen.
"I am everyone... and I am no-one." He said, his voice sent a slithering chill racing up and down her spine. "If it is a name the girl seeks, I have many, but she can call me The One Who Deals."
"Wh-what kind of a name is that?" She asked, finding a bit of her spine through the fear.
"One that belies my function, is all. You seek power, do you not?" He waved a leather-clad hand through the stuffy air in front of his face, almost dismissively. "Power I have, power I can give... for the right price."
"You can do it?" She wrung her hands together, tightening her bony fingers into white knots. She tried to chase the quiver out of her voice, but found it harder to choke down by the second. "You can make me... a witch?"
"Oh, I can do so much more than that." A puff of smoke exploded in his right hand, nearly making her jump. She watched the black tendrils dissipate through his fingers, rapt, awed. In his hand sat a small, black, dagger. "I can make you the most powerful woman in The Seven Cities. All you have to do... is pay the price."
The obsidian blade shimmered in the dim light of the midnight moon, sharp, beckoning.
"And wh-what would you have me do?"
He leaned forward, grasping her left hand in his own, gently prying her fingers apart. One. By. One.
"Your sister is such a sad, sickly, thing, isn't she?" He said, placing the dagger in the palm of her hand. "Perhaps her soul would be put to better use... elsewhere."
A breath hitched in her throat. "Do you mean you want me to-?"
He chuckled. "Power does not come cheap, my dear. Pay the price... and you shall see why I ask so much of you."
Her hand closed tight around the dagger. Filled with purpose.

Wrote this last night on a whim. What do you guys think?