Rot & Romance (Rewriting)

Chapter 48

"Demetrius?" said Lainey. "Who's that?"

"Demetrius was a witch who betrayed Nature and used his magic for selfish and dastardly deeds in the fourteenth century," Ursula said. "As witches, we are guardians of Nature. Protectors of every living thing under the sun. And upholders of the Nature's laws—one that includes that everything that lives must die. Unfortunately, witches have been known to betray Nature. Go rogue. And at the time, Demetrius' betrayal far surpassed that of any rogue witch in history—he alone birthed dark magic and the three Forbidden Spells."

"The three Forbidden Spells?" Lainey whispered.

"Love. Death. Resurrection," said the witch, folding her bony fingers and leaning forward on the table. "He created a spell capable of inducing love. A spell that causes instant death. And a spell the resurrects the dead."

"But . . . why?" Lainey asked. "What made him betray Nature?"

"That's a good question," Ursula said. "Nobody knows for sure."

Love. Death. Resurrection. It sounded like a sick and twisted harmonious trinity to Lainey. Was there something more to Demetrius' intent?

"Demetrius eventually inspired a cult following and his influence traveled like a plague," Ursula continued. "Hundreds of witches were practicing the Forbidden Spells mere weeks after Demetrius introduced the dark arts. Witches were murdering and resurrecting the dead to no end. To discourage the use of the resurrection spell—or necromancy as it is called today—Nature would see the dead resurrected as vile perversions of man."

"You mean . . . dead walkers," Lainey gasped.

Ursula nodded.

"The dead rose as monsters, desiring blood and flesh. Fortunately Demetrius' spell didn't last long. While it did raise the dead, it was never any longer than a few days before the resurrected would collapse in a pile of dust and bone. The walking dead weren't . . . immortal. This only inspired necromancers to try to perfect the spell. And the cost of rogue witches' continued defiance against Nature sent Its wrath all over the continent of Europe for two years with a plague that is known today as the Black Death. Millions died. But there was one witch who would not be affected by this plague. One witch who thought it unfair she had to suffer the same fate as those who practiced necromancy. One witch who created a magical elixir known as the Demon's Spirit. That witch . . . was me."

Lainey swallowed.

"Wh-What did the Demon's Spirit do?"

Ursula began slowly twirling her knife in her hand, the candlelight glinting on the blade.

"There are two classes of magic," she said. "Verbal and non-verbal. Verbal magic is magic that requires incantations. Spells. Non-verbal magic comes in the forms of elixirs or what was once called 'witch's brew'. Magical concoctions. I was known as Ursula of the Cauldron—let's just say I'm a genius at magical concoctions and I decided to raise the dead my own way. Using a few of Nature's tools like the amaranth plant for immortality and my own blood for life, it didn't take me long to create the greatest magical concoction ever created. The elixir that would raise the dead, grant superhuman strength, speed and immortality."

Lainey inheld deeply and exhaled.

"So . . . you created the Demon's Spirit so that you could drink it and become immortal?"

The witch cackled.

"I didn't create the Demon's Spirit for myself. Nature's Guardians were safe. No, I created the Demon's Spirit for my family—my human family, who were at risk of being infected by Nature's plague. . . . Drinking the elixir alone didn't turn one immortal. They had to die to be resurrected as immortals."