"It's a girl!" the maid cried in joy, securing the fragile body into a beige fabric.
Just like a blizzard, the cries of a new-born echoed through the stone-cold walls along with a thunder, vibrating through the base of the castle to the core. Her voice held the tune of catastrophe no mortal could ever possess, and the underworld screamed awake with the cries of a baby who shall bring them back to earth, awakening from the centuries-old slumber with a vindictive rumble.
The storm suddenly faded into the distance as the child's voice died down, vanishing within the sound of heavy rain. The maid pulled the girl closer in fright, unsure whether she took her first breath. For a new-born, she looked sickly pale, almost blue, and her onyx eyes fluttered shut, hiding the unnatural colour of her clouded irises.
The woman tugged at her lower lip and sighed in relief as her shallow breath collided with her chilled skin, inhaling the smoky scent of the extinguished candles.
That's when the crone realized there was no light.
Even the wax stopped dripping down the sides of the tapers, solidifying at the sudden coldness of the room and silence, thick enough to be sliced, send chills through the warmth of their living flesh.
In the presence of evil, the temperature dropped several degrees within couple of seconds.
The sullen souls of the deceased that remained roaming the world of mortals crawled from the darkest corners of the magical residence, gnarling their teeth at the sight of the new-born witch. Her birth brought them a sense of corrupted security and they fell to her feet in devoted services, bringing the darkness of the underworld with the macabre loyalty.
She was born to free them.
The spirits came to corrupt her young mind. To poison her with her first breath, so when the time comes, she won't hesitate to fulfil the faith the Dark Lord himself chose for her to carry.
However not even the devil was alone before he chose the path of night.
Whispers crawled around them; a terrible tune set in their core as the malevolent spirits retreated into the shadows of the corners. The young maids gasped, holding onto each other in fear whilst the crone only embraced the feeling of menace, keeping the child in a firm hold despite the weakness of her wrinkled arms.
The demons tried to penetrate the child's mind. To feed on her innocence, however a barrier rose just as they took a taste, sending them flying from her fragile form. The spirits sensed the creation in the mother's womb that reeked of holy spirit and snarled their rotten teeth as she screamed bloody murder, torturously clutching the sheets by her sides.
The new-born witch too, had a guardian who was meant to show her, that there was a light in the darkest pits of night.
The Queen jolted upon the bed in pain, an agonizing scream dragging out of her throat as the lightening stroke above. The servants froze in their steps at the scene. None of them expected her to carry a second child.
"Take her," the crone rushed the young maid with panicked eyes, entrusting the baby into her hands. "Bring more water and cloth! Quickly!"
The young girls rushed out of the chamber to get back in time.
"No!" the Queen cried, feeling the strength being drained out of her mortal frame. "There is supposed to be only on-" she was cut off as another scream forced itself out of her mouth, silencing her astray ramble.
"Push!" the woman encouraged her, rolling the bottom of her nightgown up her knees.
The storm swayed the trees, straining their knotted roots as the lady suffered, the wind crashing violently against the windows of the house. Thunder echoed after lightning flashed the bloody scene, reflecting the birth psychotically as the mother's face twisted in agony.
YOU ARE READING
The Sacred Seven
Fantasia18+ ... Lillith Moriarty, the future Queen of the last living coven, is threatened by Thomas Crane (whose name was changed to Tom Riddle on request) the bastard descendant of Satan who is known for his manic tendencies. What happens when her right...
