Cult (Book 1)

The Witching Hour

 It was past three A.M.

The famous witching hour.

My pink hair was tied up in a bun and a simple white dress was laying on top of my body. I stood still as I watched as the females and some of the males circling the man that was tied up in the middle of the circle. He watched in horror as the people chant in a language he didn't know. His eyes plead freedom but it didn't come.

When they were done, all of their eyes landed on me. The eldest woman came close to me and in a voice of excitement she said: "Little one is time". My pale hands shiver as I held the knife. The words the old woman spoke were still ringing in my head. As I got close to the man, his green was screaming at me to please let him go.

I was still shaking as I put the blade against the man's throat.

"It has to be done," said a manly voice that came with the wind.

They were all expecting me to do this. He was expecting me to do it...

I close my eyes as I let the knife do its job. As the blood started to flow down, one of the women put a plate so that they can keep some of the blood to complete the ritual.

My body was still shaking as I open my eyes slowly looking at what I have done. I killed an innocent man. You had to do it, said a voice inside my head.

"You need to sign the book," said the elders as the looked at me. The other made way so I could pass to the stone where his book was. My legs walked as they had a mind of there own until my body was in front of the stone.

On my right on the rock, a black feather pen, next to it the plate with the blood of the man with green eyes. On the left side some stones of different colors and a black cat looking at me intensely. Even my on familiar is giving me pressure. Finally in the middle a reddish book with the pentagram in the center of the book.

Taking a breath, I move my hand to open the book but before I put my hand in the cover it opens its self on the page I had to sign. My hand trembles slightly as I grab the pen and dip it into the blood on the plate. This is it, I said to my self mentally.

If I sign my name in this book, my soul won't belong to me anymore, it will belong to him. Him. I know he is here somewhere in the darkness, watching me. I can feel his energy through the night air. Everyone can feel it. It's like a primal instinct, that every witch and warlock could feel.

My family was there, all counting on me to not let the family name down. This was always meant to happen since the day I was born.

Slowly I wrote my name in cursive letters, when I finish the last letter, a blog of lightning struck in a tree setting it on fire. A wave of power washed over me, as I heard the roar of happiness of my brothers and sisters.

It was done. It was actually done. I was a bride of him. A new pawn in his wicked games. My mind felt dizzy as I read my name.

Rose Victoria Evans.

A wave of nausea came over me, my name was there and it will be there until the end of time. My mother came running to hug me. I couldn't respond as I was in a state of shock. "I'm so proud of you" she whispers proudly. I didn't care if she was. I was just looking for him. My eyes were for him desperately in the darkness. I made out a pair of golden eyes looking wickedly at me.

"You're mine," said a macabre voice that I knew it belongs to him.