A deep dark hollow begins to consume you from within. So fierce is its hold that you begin to wonder will you be ever able to overpower it. But as the hour changes, the dominance keeps getting strengthened. You look for a way, you look for your light. But the light of your soul that once used to be your grace, your power, is nowhere to be found, because your sight and soul are both blinded, by your very own power. And from there, you lose your wings, the ones that once were your daylight, and from that very tick of the clock, the goodness averts. From that very moment, Satan begins to reside. 

Within you.

.

.

''Look at the boy!''

Every villager looked at the 8 year old boy, whose little hands were smeared with blood, yet his eyes showed a blank conjecture as he heard almost everyone around him murmuring to themselves.

''He is an abomination!''

Remarked one villager with a merchant's knife in his hand, while the others darted their eyes at him, and then at the little boy who sat isolated at one corner in the woods, his countenance showing absolutely nothing, but his eyes slowly conveying the curious set of thoughts embarking in his head as everybody put him under scrutiny.

''He's just a little boy! You cannot call him an abomination.''

Said one old lady, while the man with a repugnant look on his face looked at her and averred,

''You think so, old lady? The boy killed his own parents and today, he killed his foster family too. What more proof do you need to understand that he's a curse to the world of witches and warlocks?''

Everybody nodded in affirmation while the old lady looked at the small boy, his face too innocent to validate such a theory that he was the cause of his own parents' and his foster parents' deaths, but she knew very well that what the headstrong man averred was not completely wrong.

The prophecy was made long ago by one of the most powerful witches of her coven who had stated that this boy would prove to be the curse, a threat to the world of Spellcraft, because Satan resided in him.

Dare you get blinded

By the innocence dripping from his visage

Send a call you shall

For your death won't be a mirage

The devil dwells in him,

And in its time it shall unravel

Relinquish you must

Or be ready to face the evil.

She recalled Petunia's verses when she had made this prophecy about a boy who would wreak havoc in their supernatural world, but despite knowing Petunia was barely wrong in her predictions, she had refused to believe in her theory.

But today, when the entire village consisting of witches and warlocks had gathered here, mourning the loss of two beautiful souls in their world, who fortunately or unfortunately had adopted this little boy 8 years ago, when his own parents had died the moment he came into existence in this world.

The couple were barren and hence, had readily adopted this boy, but little did they know that the curse with which people believed he was born, would strike back, and that too eight years later.

''This boy should be condemned to death, before he causes any more deaths in this village!''

The man with the merchant's knife commanded while majority said ''Aye'' in compliance, while the old woman only shook her head.

Having lost her own children in war long ago, she didn't want another life to be treated so frivolously, and that too when it was a life of a mere 8 year old, who perhaps didn't even have the idea of what havoc his own powers could wreak in this world.

He was too young to understand the intricacies of Witchcraft and comprehend that he possessed so much power within himself that he could not control it and when that came to fore, his power had consequences, his power had the power to cause deaths.

Deaths of innocents.

And maybe he couldn't even fathom that his first victims were his own biological parents and now the people who gave him a second life by deciding to bring him up as their own.

But it was too late to make amends.

''Please. I beg you. Please don't do this.''

The old lady begged while the villagers shot her a look of disgust and the enraged man walked ahead towards the boy, making the old woman cry out loud.

''Vengeance isn't an answer, son. Please. Please don't do this. Don't commit a sin which even the mighty sun cannot undo. If you kill this child, you will bathe in blood of an innocent. Please! Don't let your rage turn him into a cold corpse. It is not his fault!''

She said in between her sobs, but all turned a deaf ear towards her painful pleas as the man reached the spot where the small boy was sitting, his hands still covered in blood.

Wasting not another minute, he picked up the boy in his arms, bringing him to the centre of the assembled crowd, while the old woman continued to shed tears and begged everyone to show some mercy to the child.

''This boy here, is an abomination, a curse to our holy spirit of Spellcraft! Look on everyone! The Satan was once an Angel and here, this innocent face that you see, don't you dare be fooled by it! If this boy shall live, apocalypse will gulp us all. We shall not live to see a new dawn. And so this curse, this threat must be sacrificed. In the holy fire! In our holy fire!''

The enraged man who was also a great orator said in a voice high-pitched, and the crowd instantly followed suit as they remarked in unison, ''Burn! Burn! Burn!''

The old lady couldn't believe the sight in front of her, and tried hard to shield the child from the futility that was going to engulf him in sometime, but for some odd reason, the boy showed no fear on his face, and looked at everyone, while they continued to chant the word to burn him alive.

.

.

''IGNEM ACCENDUNT''

The man spoke out loud and within seconds a huge flame of fire greeted the sight of each and everyone present there. The flames rose so high and with such magnitude that anyone who dared to look directly into it, felt as if the fiery ball of sun itself was going to consume them.

As everyone began chanting the holy spell of blessing their kind from this evil source, the man held his merchant's life close to the boy's arm, and mercilessly let its pointed edge sit on his soft skin, as he put pressure on it, and in no time, blood started dripping from his skin as the man continued to carve the pointed edge to form that one symbol that they used as a ritualistic sign in all their spells, to mark their coven.

''No!''

The old lady cried as she saw the little boy's face twitch in pain finally, and the knife bruised his arm as the blood continued to flow.

For her, if this wasn't the end of humanity, the beginning of apocalypse, she didn't know what was.

''Do something, our holy spirit. Don't let this happen. Please, don't.''

She begged hoping against hope that some miracle would happen.

But the next thing she saw shattered her to pieces, as the man held the boy up straight and with one final look at everyone threw him at the raging flames of the fire.

''NO!!!!!''

The lady shouted on top of her lungs, shifting her face and sight, not able to take this inhumane act, where someone could so brutally murder a little child.

Her heart pounded against her ribcage as her eyes burned by her own endless tears, and she dreaded to remove her palms from her eyes, knowing very well that only a multitude of agony will greet her.

But what she anticipated turned out to be unreal, for the next thing she heard were only murmurs from the crowd, amidst a deafening silence.

A chill ran down her spine as she slowly removed her palms from her eyes and opened them, her blurred vision slowly getting acclimatized to her surrounding, and with a thudding heart, she turned her face to the other side, and what she saw next, left her dumbfounded.

.

.

Her eyes went wide in shock and the hair on her skin stood on their edge, as she saw the little boy sitting on the ground, no glimpse of the fiery flames anywhere, and the only bruise that remained on him was the bruise from the cut of the merchant's knife.

The man who had dared to immolate the little boy, stood speechless too, while the crowd looked on anxiously, talking among themselves to fathom what just happened.

And it felt like they didn't have to wait for that long as the next moment, a troop of six people emerged from the other side of the woods, taking everyone by surprise, as they gasped and realize who these people were and prayed fervently to not have any harm come their way.

The old lady felt the ground slip beneath her feet as she realized the identity of the people approaching them and before she could even do something, those men and women were already near the little boy.

.

.

''So much power.''

The first man said with astonishment as he looked at the dark haired 8 year old boy and then at his mates, before darting his sight again at the boy, as he added,

''You vanquished a deadly fire, child. Do you know what you can be, when you grow up?''

The little boy looked at the man looking at him as if he was some precious toy, mesmerized by his face, but little did he know what the old guy was thinking and so he innocently shook his head in a no, for he truly didn't know what he would be once he grew up.

What he was oblivious about was the fact that at that very second his fate was already decided, and the next thing he heard was the auburn haired woman standing beside him say,

''He cheated death. And not just death, death by nature. A raging fire. Seems like he is meant to be a part of our quest to find immortality, Zachariah.''

The woman too looked at the young boy with astonishment, as the other men and women in their troop nodded their heads in compliance, while the villagers watched the group interact with that abomination, a curse that the child was, hopelessly, knowing very well what would happen now.

The young boy still looked on without saying a word as he finally saw the old guy bend on his knees, so that he could come to his level on the ground, and he looked at the bruise from the knife in his arm.

With a small lopsided smile tugging on his lips, he slowly took one hand of the boy in his, and asked in a soft voice,

''Would you like to go to your new home, my boy? Would you like to be a part of us?''

The boy looked at the guy and without saying a word, he just nodded his head slightly, making the people of the troop flash him a wide smile, while the villagers shook their heads with helplessness, and before they could do anything, they heard the man say to the boy,

''Your arm hurts, doesn't it?''

The boy once again nodded his head in affirmation, while the man traced his finger on that bruise and asked the boy in a soft voice,

''Who did it?''

The boy kept quiet but after five seconds, simply darted his eyes at the direction where the man who tried throwing him into the fire was standing, still holding the same merchant's knife in his hand.

The man felt a chill run down his spine as he could already anticipate what was to come next and hoped fervently that this wouldn't be the end for him.

''That man, my boy wanted to kill you, while all these people wanted to enjoy the sight of you burning in flames. You know what should be done to them?''

The boy shook his head as the man spoke to him.

''I will tell you.''

This time the auburn haired woman spoke as she came closer to the boy, and whispered in his ear in a dangerous tone.

''Burn them alive.''

.

.

The little boy still continued to look at them, while the villagers stood in shock, some trying to run away, but failed to do so because a certain spell was acting as a boundary that didn't let them flee.

''It is easy, you know.''

The man said, while the boy looked at him curiously.

''You just have to flick your finger and say, Ignem Accendunt.''

''SAY IT.''

.

The boy was taken aback by the sudden force of the tone with which the man commanded him and he finally looked at the crowd of people standing opposite to him, and taking a deep breath, said in a voice barely audible,

''Innem Assandat''

.

.

The villagers counted their breaths as their hearts thudded at a dangerous pace, but they felt goosebumps as the next second nothing happened.

''Enunciate properly, my boy. Say it the right way. Ignem Accendunt.''

The man held the arms of the boy, deliberately pushing his fingers on his bleeding bruise, and as the fresh stake of pain tormented him, the little one shouted out loud,

''IGNEM ACCENDUNT!''

.

.

And in no time, all that could greet one's sight was only the deadly, fiery flames of a raging fire, that consumed every soul, every tree, every house that stood there, turning the entire village into a ghost expanse of barren land, while the troop watched with wide smiles.

The old lady stared in horror at the havoc that the little boy finally wreaked on everyone, all ounce of innocence all gone from his human form, with that one deed of his, that took away the very essence of life from him, and turned everything into a dark, long lost world.

As she finally felt the flames approaching her, the very essence of her own being all ready to turn her earthly body into ashes, she closed her eyes, for one last time recalling Petunia's prophecy of how this curse would bring the end of their kind.

The flames rose higher and higher and she could feel her body getting charred and as the last drop of life was snatched away from her existence, only one phrase echoed in the back of her head. Something that maybe even she didn't realize, became the new prophecy of this time. Of this era.

''The flames that consume us shall rise again, and once it shall rise, the Satan shall be sent back to hell.''

.

.

''See? You did amazing! You wiped off an entire village.''

The man patted the little boy's head, while he looked at the charred woods, all traces of life and colors gone from there.

''Now, we shall begin our journey, my boy. You are no longer needed here in this ghost village. Come on, get up.''

He said, while the little boy watched the six of them and finally stood up, holding one of their hands.

With one final look behind him, where he could see the remains of the place he spent his eight years of life in, he finally looked ahead, embracing the new life that waited for him.

.

.

''Welcome to the Avizhas, my boy.''

The man told him with pride and a smile.

''I am Zachariah and these are my friends.''

The man offered his hand to the boy for a handshake, while the latter accepted the handshake after two seconds.

''And, what's your name?''

Zachariah asked him, the smile still not leaving his face, and it was only after five seconds that the little boy spoke for the first time in all this while.

''Aloysius. My name is Aloysius.''

.

.

.

As the tall hills and dark clouds continued to reflect the very darkness that he settled within himself for all these years, he slowly traced that one belonging of his that had stayed with him since forever. As a link between his mortal life and immortality.

He saw the same bruise on his arm that was the one and only symbol he kept with himself from his human life and recalled vague incidences from his long past before darting his eyes at the view of the dark clouds of Verman Hills once again.

''Do you need anything else, Master?''

His servant came to ask him, breaking his little reverie as he finally looked away from the sight that his tall windows offered him, and turned to see his servant standing still, waiting for an answer.

He simply shook his head in negative, conveying he didn't want anything, and with a nod, the servant left the giant room, leaving him alone.

''I don't want anything. I don't want anything but the bracelet.''

And with that enunciation, he took out a small piece of paper from his pocket, a paper that was decades old, yet the person's sketch in it, still so fresh in his mind.

.

.

''Your treason caused your death. Your betrayal was your undoing. Your lies were your evil. And your selfishness, made me kill you.''

He looked at the sketch intently, before caressing the face on it with the pad of his thumb.

''Yet. Yet you continue to haunt me?''

''Why Meredith?''

''I loved you. But you betrayed me. You promised me that we would look for Sophronia's immortality spell together. It was our quest! Yet you turned out to be a traitor?''

.

.

''You wanted to have that immortality to yourself, since you were the owner of that bracelet. You kept cheating on me!''

''But I punished you, didn't I? I punished you with death! I acquired immortality right before you, while you died from my own hands!''

He laughed like a maniac, as he recalled events from the past, every minute detail, when Meredith joined the Avizhas, how her knowledge of immortality and the fact that she knew so much about Sophronia made her an influential figure among the Avzihas. How she made him fall insanely in love with her, how she made him believe that their lives will last together since they would attain immortality together. But the truth was something way beyond his comprehension at that point of time, for he was barely aware, that Meredith had already deciphered Sophronia's spell and headed on the path of attaining immortality by herself, not caring about him or anyone else in their coven.

What she didn't know was the fact that Aloysius had already figured out something she had been hiding all along ever since she joined the Avizhas.

Sophronia, the most powerful witch of all time, who actually carved the immortality spell, centuries ago, was not just some ancient witch, but she was an ancestor, an ancestor of the Vermount bloodline.

Which made Meredith directly related to her.

And that meant, the ornament of the Vermount bloodline had a huge role to play in the immortality spell.

And it didn't take long for Aloysius to figure out that it was the binding object, that could bind and unbind the immortality spell.

The only thing he was yet to figure out was the verse that could seal the immortality spell.

But he was determined, he would find it out by hook or crook, and Meredith, she would be chastised for her betrayal.

Not just to her coven, but to the one who loved her as well.

.

.

''You couldn't get away with that crime now, could you my lovely Meredith?''

He said with a lopsided smile, looking into the eyes of Meredith's sketch as he went on,

''I killed you before your betrayal could kill me, my darling. And I took the immortality I always wanted.. BUT-''

He paused as he traced the sketch once again before saying in a voice barely audible,

''But you still continue to haunt me. Why, hmm?''

''Your bracelet was of no use to me once I became immortal, because you were DEAD. Only YOUR blood could threaten my immortality, but you were DEAD.''

''But..''

He crushed the sketch as he curled his fingers into tight fists as he gritted through his teeth,

''BUT I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN.. WHEN THAT BLOODY AMELIA VERMOUNT STOLE THAT BRACELET, I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN SHE HAD ULTERIOR MOTIVES! I PUNISHED HER BY KILLING HER SON, BUT NO.. KEEPING THAT ORNAMENT AS A SENTIMENTAL ASSET WAS NEVER HER INTENTION. THAT BLOODY WOMAN HAD SEEN SOMETHING! SHE WOULD HAVE SEEN YOU!!''

''YOU, MEREDITH!''

He once again straightened that crushed sketch as he fixated his gaze on Meredith's face, and with a raging tone, averred,

''Only that you are someone else, this time, Meredith! You are KHUSHI. KHUSHI ELISE VERMOUNT.''

His eyes turned red as he kept looking at the sketch without a blink, and as the small town of Verman Hills witnessed a new dusk settle in, a new vow once again echoed in the air, as Aloysius said to himself,

''But this time there won't be any mistakes, Meredith. The bracelet—the primitive threat to my immortality WILL be DESTROYED. And after that.. So will be.. Your great granddaughter—KHUSHI ELISE VERMOUNT.''

**