Hellfire

Burning Legacy

When the village of Aston had been founded by a small coven, it was a place where all were welcomed. Race, gender, sexuality, religion... none of it really mattered. Those living there no longer had to face the persecution of the Kingdoms they escaped.

This was the Aston (G/g/g/g/m/n) and (G/g/g/g/f/n) (L/n) knew, the Aston they helped build. Unfortunately, those sunny days were long gone...

Aston had been built too far away from the outside world. The witches never learned of the nationwide war waged against witchcraft, and they weren't prepared when ruthless crusaders invaded their home.

The devout witches were killed on sight while everyone else had been forced to convert, watching helplessly as witchcraft became outlawed. Aston was transformed into a settlement no different from the kingdoms its people had worked so hard to leave behind.

Generation after generation passed by, most never even knowing of their vast culture and heritage. Only a select few families managed to keep their devotion behind closed doors, preserving what little they could of their history and ancestors. The (L/n)s were one of those lucky few.

(Y/n) (L/n) was the new generation of the (L/n) family. His great great great grandparents, the ones who had helped found Aston, were some of the first executions ever carried out in Aston's vast history. His parents, both of whom had lost their own parents at very young ages, taught him all about witchcraft.

(Y/n) learned many medicinal recipes, crystal healing, tarot and palm reading, how to worship their Divinities, and, most importantly, how to keep his religion under wraps. Of course, with new tactics of staying hidden came new tactics of weeding out heretics...

It was (Y/n)'s birthday when their home was raided, a new law implemented by the bishop of Aston to investigate the rise in suspected witchcraft. He was forcefully torn away from his loving parents, left in the care of his godfather. They were set alight the next day.

(Y/n) could do nothing but watch as his family practically melted away in the searing flames, screaming in an agonized pain (Y/n) had never experienced before. His godfather knew that those screams would follow him into his nightmares.

He was brutally interrogated by the priests and deacons after the execution was over, nearly beaten unconscious as they tried to force a confession out of him. In the end, the bishop took pity on what was merely a child.

(Y/n) was sent home with his godfather, thoroughly traumatized from his experience. He weeped, and his godfather held him, muffling his sobs in the blue fabric of the adult's shirt.

"It's ok, niño. My esposa and I will take good care of you now."

He rubbed (Y/n)'s back, promising to stay for as long as the child wanted him to. Words couldn't describe how soothing that sentiment was.