Birth of a Nightmare Man

Chapter Thirty-Two

The Nightmare Lord was a legend, and a curse. His rampage through Muggle villages had worsened the relations between Muggles and magical people, to the degree the Wizard's Council were desperate to get him out of the way.

Hundreds of years, and he had terrorized people, good and bad. He had murdered and slaughtered in periods, disappearing long enough for hope to bloom that he had finally perished, before showing up once more.

To some people the concept behind the Nightmare Lord was still a group, a stubborn group that refused to bow to the wishes of the Wizard's Council of remaining in the dark from Muggles. Others believed it to be the work of an immortal man.

The Nightmare Lord himself?

He couldn't give less of a shit to be honest.

-o-

Years ticked by, and the Nightmare Lord counted them as days sometimes. So many years passed, and he remained sane by making himself believe it wasn't that long.

Well, a little bit sane. He knew a bigger part of him was a raving lunatic, so he kept up a resemblance of sanity.

News of the Wizard's Council didn't bother him much. They had formed during the thirteenth century, who knows for what reason, and made a fuss about him ever since. Wait, was he the reason they formed?

It wasn't like he could blame them if that was the case; he was always teetering on the edge of exposing the magical community as a large to the Muggles. Once the council had formed, he sometimes made a scene just to hear the news of the council pissing themselves trying to cover it up from the Muggles.

The Muggles on the other hand had become more violent, more frightened. They burned people across the land, accusing them of being witches. The lord knew most of them weren't. Yes, of course they did manage to capture some witches and wizards, in particular children who weren't good at controlling their magic, but he honestly didn't care much who got caught and who escaped. Who burned and who did not burn.

Sometimes he watched the Muggles parade a 'witch', her begging and pleading she wasn't one. He listened to her screams as she burned. A few of those 'witches' he felt rather sorry for, and had their bodies screaming while he had killed them with a snap of his fingers.

Then he wondered why he felt sorry for them.

The council wanted to keep away from the Muggle community. Separate the magical one from the Muggle one while still living side by side. Magical people knowing about the Muggles, but no vice versa. The lord supposed that made sense. It had been like that when he was young, when he carried the name his parents gave him. Did this mean he would make it easy for the council?

Hmm… nope. It would mean he was being considerate. The lord didn't want to be considerate. He was perfectly fine with being annoying.

"People will call you a cranky, old man if they found out," Lucian told him one day.

"I am a cranky, old man," the lord pointed out.

"Not with that face, master."

"So what if I don't want to get wrinkly? Still old."

Lucian gave up. Other times, Elise said:

"They will hate you forever, master."