Witchling (Chronicles of Witchood)

Chronicles of Witchood

Book 1

Witchling

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similari
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Beginnings…

And this was
how I am going to die – not for some heroic cause like saving the world or my love ones, but because of a curse. And it wasn’t even my curse. I would have preferred the self-sacrifice for a cause route, but that was impossible. I was only a victim. And the saddest part, I didn’t have a prince charming. He abandoned me long ago and left me with his beloved brother to take out my heart.

I laughed at the realisation. My executioner looked down at me as if I was insane.
Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t. Maybe I was just so distraught with the reality of things that I felt a part of my soul shatter. The broken shards pierced my lungs and made it almost impossible to breathe. I curled up and turned into a sobbing ball, my brunette hair glued to my face because of my tears.

“That won’t do you any good, love,” said my executioner as he crouched down
. He brushed the stray strands from my face. His cold fingertips made my skin shiver. I looked up and found that he had perfect white skin. It was like polished marble and the sight made my terrified heart skip its beat. I still could not comprehend how such a beautiful creature would be capable of such cruelty.

“Shut up,”
I managed, “and leave me alone.”

My executioner stood up and took a step back. He
clicked on his tongue and looked up towards the moon. It was almost midnight but not yet.

“Would you like to say anything, before you die?”

“Go to hell.”

My executioner shrugged. Although he looked seventeen, I knew that he was much older.
I wondered about what he would really look like without his powers. Probably old and ancient with skin like dusty bandages.

Branches cra
cked as the witch came forward. Her eyes were white and her mind in a trance. I could not guess her age. She was old and yet her face looked as young as mine – fifteen at most but with a soul that has lived at least three centuries. I thought she looked uncannily familiar, except, I could quite place her face. It was clear to me that she was controlled by the executioner, who now sat on a rock, the tips of his fingers played with the blade that is to cut out my heart. I never understood why it had to be me and not some other girl. It was a selfish thought, but when you are facing the possibility of a murdered death, you tend to think about yourself first.

Chapter 1

I jolted awake. It was the dream again. That dream where I waited for my death, surrounded by a salt circle and a man who waited for that full red moon to appear. My body shivered with sweat as I sat up and looked over towards the alarm clock. It was only three o’clock. I must have died in my dream, again, for the hundredth time, or else I would not have woken up.

I closed my eyes and
buried my face in my hands. At this rate, I would never be able to go back to sleep, and the more I tried to remember, the more the dream slipped away, like trying to hold onto a fist full of sand – you’re left with nothing but it still gets everywhere. Dam you, nightmares. Being the first day at school did not help either.

Hi
. My name is Amelia “Amy” Ryans - fifteen, a head full of tangled of brown hair, perfectly normal, except for the recurrent nightmares and sleep deprivation. I toyed with the idea of sleeping pills, but dad would never like it. He has always been against that sort of stuff. Besides, I’ve heard you can get addicted and that’s the last thing I want.

I threw my head back against my pillow
. It was a feeble attempt to push the irritating sensation of the dream from my mind, but it had gotten under my skin and gripped on so tightly. My insides squirmed as snippets of the nightmare lingered. I wanted to scream, to twist in my bed, to do something, anything, to make it go away, but I knew that was impossible. Seeing that I couldn’t fight it, I turned on the lights and sat down in front of my dresser.

“
Oh god, I look horrible,” I whispered as my reflection stared back at me. Dark rims ringed my eyes. My hair was a mess, forgivable since I just woke up. My skin however, had turned so pale that it was almost translucent. I could see the faint traces of purple veins beneath my light skin. I shivered at the sight and pulled a face. I looked like a haggard bat.

“Maybe I just need food,” I decided.
My stomach grumbled in agreement.

No one was awake yet. It would be strange if they were, at three o’
clock in the morning. I made myself some toast, nothing fancy. Besides, I was not feeling very enthusiastic about making a proper breakfast. My brain was still jumbled from the nightmare, the nightmare that refused to go away.

I turned on the
TV but there was nothing on but infomercials. With my toast, I decided I needed some air. The cool summer night should do the trick to clear my head, or was it morning? Either way, it was completely dark outside, except for the streetlights that illuminated the empty road.

I opened the door and leaned against the frame.
A gentle breeze touched my cheeks. As I took a bite from my toast, I thought I saw something move, like a shadow that darted down the road. I looked towards the direction of the movement but found nothing but darkness. My skin pricked as I stared.

In the distance, the low rumble of a
car’s engine, full bodied and heavy with age, rolled across the pavement. I strained my ears to listen. The noise was faint and seemed to be moving away. Within moments of its appearance, the sound disappeared and the streets slipped into silence once again.

I decided to go back inside, back up to my room, where I remained until daylight broke and my parents stirred in their rooms. My little brother, Luke, was most likely trying to sleep in again, except dad
would not let him. I dragged myself down the stairs again and attempted to look cheerful. It was my first day in high school after all.

“You look like crap,” said Luke from the counter.
It was the best sort of unwanted compliment he could muster as a form of brotherly love and encouragement. It would be strange to expect any less from him.

“Shut it.”

“Come on kids, no fights allowed this early in the morning. You should at least wait until ten,” said dad.

Luke rolled his eyes. He was at that age where brothers hated their sisters. Or maybe it was just Luke. He never properly liked me for anything, but he was still my brother, and I felt obliged, as the kind
and lovely older sister I am, to love him with as much civility as I can muster.

Mom dropped us off at school. Luke’s middle school was a little further down the road.

Karen waited for me by the large oak tree in front of the parking lot. She looked beautiful in the sun, with her gold spun hair, clear skin, bright smile and blue eyes. The senior boys would be all over her in no time. Karen lifted her eyebrows at the sight of me. I must have underestimated how bad the nightmare made me look.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“Only until three.”

“The dream again?”

I nodded. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and gave me a reassuring hug. It brought a little bit of comfort to my tired soul.

“Come on,
let’s find our lockers and then you’ll have some super strong coffee from the cafeteria.”

Karen hooked her arms around mine and pulled me inside.

“Where’s Lydia? I thought we’re all meeting here,” I said.

“She texted and said she’s going to be a little bit late. You know,
it’s her parents again and she’s just taking care of some stuff.”

“Oh.”

The radiant Lydia, jet black hair, olive skin, large almond eyes, the height of a model and adopted by the Throne family since birth, often wondered what sort of situation her birth mother was in to give her up. Lydia sometimes stayed over at my house, or at Karen’s, when things became too bad. One time, she got herself a massive bruise down her left thigh. Her
father
definitely hit her. That was clear enough but Lydia refused to speak about it, or about any of the other occasions where she turned up half beaten out of her wits. When it got too bad, she would run all the way from her house to mine, her face dripped with tears, only to force herself to go home on the same night. Both my parents and Karen’s have tried to do something about it, but it didn’t seem to matter. Lydia was always too afraid to speak out against them, or rather,
him
. The authorities knew of the violence, but something always kept them from doing the right thing.

“She’ll be alright,” said Karen with a forced smile. “She always is.”

“John is a bad man for both Lydia and her mom. I don’t understand why they still take his side.”

“I don’t know, Amy, I agree with you all the way, but that’s the only family Lydia has.”

“We’re her family too. I mean, one word. I’m sure my parents will take her in. They’ll take them both in. One word.”

Karen hushed me and nodded past my shoulders. Lydia had arrived and any
word about her life at home was off limits. As much as I love her like a sister, I really want to shake some sense into her. But unfortunately, I wasn’t allowed. Karen and I never talked about her dad in front of her, not unless she was the one that brought it up.

I hugged Lydia and forgot all about my night terrors. She looked
intact, still beautiful as usual and not a mark or stray bruise on her, which is always a good sign. As I stood in the presence of my two best friends, I felt somewhat like a slob, a sleepy sort of slob. But that was alright. I knew my place amongst the two beauties and I was confident enough about my appearance not too feel strange or out of place.

Other familiar faces from middle scho
ol walked the halls as a freshman. Some nodded at us; the grade school queens ignored our existence. That was alright. I had my friends, and luckily for us, we are all in the same classes, well, most of them anyway.

The first was history, which did not do me any good. Mr Grim
ms was as bad as he sounded, and that is saying something since I quite like history. He was an old man, with a draining voice and wispy white tuffs of hair that came out from his ears. Perhaps if he did not pace around the room like a pendulum, my tiredness would not have felt worse than it already was. For a brief moment, I dared close my eyes, only for a second.

When I opened them again, I found myself in the woods. It was night and the full moon was on the rise. For half a second I was confused, then I realised what had just happened. My first day in high school and I just managed to fall
asleep in the first class. Why did Mr Grimms have to be so grim? Why couldn’t he be more animated with his voice?

I felt compelled to walk down the track,
half covered in dry fallen leaves, as I always did in my dream. The longer I was in the dream world, the longer its contents poured back into my head. I knew where I had to go, except this time, I resisted it. I had to wake up before Mr Grimms or anyone else noticed.

But I
won’t be able to wake up until I die, and at the rate the sun is sinking into the trees, it wouldn’t be for a while. I decided to walk down the track, as quickly as I could, and perhaps maybe daylight would fade quicker.

I walked for what seemed like forever and the sun did not do anything to make the time pass faster. In fact, it seemed stuck in the sky, a bleeding horizon that refused to turn blue. The forest’s landscape
did not do me any good either. It continued to stretch and the path circled around to the same place. I wanted it over and done with, but my nightmare refused to grant me my wish.

I noticed the difference between the usual nightmare and the current dream. Several
feet away from me suddenly stood a man, dark blonde hair, cropped short, somewhere in his early twenties, twenty-two at most. Yet, there was something incredibly old about him, like an aged soul stuck in a young body. His face remained hidden as he kept his back turned towards me. The man felt familiar, as if I had seen him before from somewhere, though I couldn’t quite place my fingers upon it.

“Miss Ryans,” a voice cracked through the sky. It sounded familiar. Something tugged at her left arm. “Miss Ryans!”

A book slammed down on the desk in front of me. I jolted awake to find the entire class starring. My cheeks turned red with embarrassment.

“Good morning, Miss Ryans. I see that you are truly enjoying my class.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Grimms,” I started. My tongue stumbled as I spoke.

“Why don’t you tell me what year the Declaration of
Independence was ratified?”

The old man looked down at me expectantly as I straightened up and regained whatever sense of dignity remained.
The quiz was supposed to teach me a lesson.

“
1776, sir.”

Mr
Grimms was slightly impressed. He would have been more thrilled if I hadn’t fallen asleep in his class.

“Good. Gettysburg Address.”

“1863.”

Mr
Grimms was about to ask another question but the bell interrupted him. I implored him for forgiveness with my eyes.

“Very well,” Mr
Grimms took a step back from my desk and returned to the front of the class. “Miss Ryans, I advise that you get enough beauty sleep before I see you again tomorrow. Is that understood?”

The entire class
sniggered. I hardened my spine and knew I semi-deserved it.

“Yes sir.”

“You are all dismissed. Off you go.”

No one wasted time to get out, including me. Within seconds, I
merged with the stream of people in the corridor. Lydia and Karen joined my side.

“Are you alright, Amy?” Karen asked.

“Yeah, just a bit tired.”

Karen and Lydia exchanged looks, but they didn’t say anything else. I kept walking and the sea of people made my head feel dizzy. The world seemed to spin and if not for Karen and Lydia’s firm grip on my arms, I would have felt more lost.

They were forced to leave me by the stairs, where they went to their own classes for biology and chemistry. I pulled out my timetable and saw that my next destination was maths, which was a little further down the hall. I walked, half dazed towards my class, my eyes glazed as I struggled to remain awake, until I hit something and that something certainly woke me up. I stumbled back and almost fell, if not for the quick hands that caught me.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I blurted out. My eyes focused and my cheeks flushed with heat. A boy, tall, broad shoulders, skin as smooth as marble and eyes so beautifully green cradled me protectively. The moment lasted for only about two seconds but it felt like an
eternity. He looked sixteen and yet something about his eyes that brooded with age, like an old soul trapped in a young body. His face was handsome, clean cut with defined cheekbones. His body was athletic and proportionate. His hair, short, dark and styled in a way that made him sizzled with heat. How I managed to take all this in surprised me. Sure, I’ve seen good looking boys before, but I’ve never caught myself starring at one like this – checking out and in awe of his every asset. Parts of the dream instantly came back to me and ruined the moment. It felt like the same man that came to kill me, my executioner, and yet, it was not.

I straightened up and turned my face away, embarrassed.

“Are you alright?”

His voice was like liquid silver, so smooth and beautiful and something melodic about it.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m just on my way to class.” As I spoke, I felt like a bumbling fool. I rushed away and felt him watch me as I dashed to my next class. I felt him follow me and I didn’t dare turn around due to embarrassment, but when I did, he wasn’t there. “Amelia Ryans,” I said to myself, “what has gotten into you?”