The Coven

The door to the house was closed, the windows locked. It was a normally quiet house, a fence of hedges around it. The outside walls were painted brown, the shutters and door red. Simple, the colors of the season. The autumnal equinox had passed, Winter Night had arrived. It was barely a fortnight left till the height of the energies would come, when the Blue Moon coincided with the Shadowfest. The forest surrounded the house on all sides, a path leading out from it going back to the town. In front of the house were four warhorses, all of them roan, of similar build, tall enough to trample a full-grown man, muscular enough to charge through a barred steel door, their armor all bearing the same sigil, and they patiently waited, watching the windows of house, and what was going on inside.
Blood periodically splattered on the glass. Crying came from the inside, accompanying the screams of the dying. Around the outside, flames encircled the house, grey flames, that gave off no heat, and no light. The lights in the house had long since gone out, yet something inside still gave off a glow, a dark black throughout the place, so black it actually gave off light to see by, radiating out from the second and first floor windows. However, in the only window on the top floor, up in the attic, a pink and golden color was dimly glowing, and throughout the massacre, the dark black never went up to that room.
People rarely visited that house, the family who lived there rarely went to the town. No one from the town would've known anything had occurred in that house had not one of the guard woken up to hear the horses riding away from the house and seen the sigils on their armor. He roused the other guardsmen and they went to the house. On the door to the house was that same sigil, inscribed in the blood of those who'd lived there. The door to the house was closed, the windows locked.