Descendants of Magic

CHAPTER I. - PROLOGUE - INYLL: THROUGH THE GATES TO HELL OR HEAVEN?

„People always said that I am weird. That I must have been casted out of hell on Earth. You bring only pain, troubles and problems. Even your mother left you to die in the snow, so why didn't you. It's not like I wanted to be like this. Even I don't understand what's going on so why will no one help me, why no one understands me?"

It was December 24th. A heavy snowstorm hit the streets of New York. During this busy night, when everyone was singing Christmas carols, wishing everyone a beautiful Christmas Eve spent with family and friends, stuffing their stomachs with baked turkey and salad, or kids munching on cookies, leaving some of them on the table with milk for Santa to also have a snack. There was one person no one saw, no one heard. Her little body covered only in a thin blanket slowly freezing to her end, crying so softly, no one stops themselves to help her. Her voice is starting to get weak, her eyes slowly closing and the life gradually leaving from he small body. The little girl was taking its last breaths when a bright blue light illuminated a dark corner of this alley. From the light comes out a shadow of a person, slowly walking towards her.

And that is the last thing I remember from that night. That is the dream I haven't had in a while but it started to haunt me more and more frequently in the past days. I closed my eyes back then and when I opened them again, I woke up in a warm bed, in a strange room I have no memories of. People were frantically running around the big room. It was full of more children than adults. They were all of different ages and races. Two of the adults hovered around me, patting my shoulders covered in a thick blanket and the other one handing me a cup of some warm liquid that smelled really nice. She asked me multiple questions but I was tired and scared. And since then that is how this terrible life of mine continued. The place I found myself in was an orphanage as a found out later on. Years went on and I kept going from one family to another. I was still young so it was easy for me to get adopted fast. But people are so fake. At first, they welcome you to their house with open arms, a smile on their faces. The promises to become your new family. But after one small incident, they send you back. I stopped counting how many strange things have happened. And I tried to explain myself as much as I could but even I didn't understand what happened. Then at the end, no one believes me anyway. Spontaneous fire, walls shaking, things moving around and appearing in strange places. They started to call me a demon child, a spawn of Satan itself. Some of the families even dragged me to local churches and begged the priest to do something. To help them. I was dunked in water or beaten sometimes and they called it exorcism. And some of those people didn't even bother to hide their disgust. They brought me to the church but not for some non-existent religious mumbo jumbo to expel the thing from inside me. No. They did it to just dump me to the nuns, to get rid of me and return me to the orphanage. But they chose the church to do so because they used the exorcism thing on themselves, to "cleanse" them from my influence and save their family line or whatever. And then didn't even bother to return me through proper lines back to the orphanage.

I grew up most of the time in the orphanage. Didn't last even a few months in the new family that tried to foster me or to adopt me and I was back there, in my little bed, in my little corner of that huge room full of kids. I became a regular at this place. Not that it gave me anything. The only upper hand I had was that I was the OG kid and I knew my way around. After years, I became somewhat friends with the older kids that remained in the orphanage because they were too old to adopt already and they were also "problematic" in their own ways, different from mine, but still they were rejects, same as me. At this point we were the ones running the orphanage behind the scenes of the adults, nuns or volunteers. I wasn't interested in being "the boss" but the kids heard some rumors and let me mind my own business.

I still had to go to school. I attended public schools that took orphans under some local project to help the kids but I think it did us more damage than good since everyone knew we were from the orphanage. Nice label they unintentionally put on us. It was a big complex of buildings for all levels of education. From elementary school to highschool or college. So basically it was like my second orphanage since I been here since I was a kid and continued to study until college. Didn't make it easier though. People were giving me strange looks, talking about me behind my back. Some of them even started to talk about me right in front of me. Like I wasn't even there. I was invisible but I wasn't at the same time. The famous pariah of the Hatherwood High. Kaitlin Holland. I somehow managed to get to the senior year. Last year in this hell hole and I will be free. From everything and everyone. And I can finally leave this small neighborhood at the outskirts of the York City.