Fire.
Catastrophic flames engulfed the night sky. Trunks of trees were being consumed by the devastating heat, absorbed into the hazardous cyclone.
The smell of smoke invaded all of Evil’s senses. Directions blurred in the dance of the dead.
The ancient forest succumbed to the madness, branches falling down like angels cast from the Lux.
Evil blinked away the boiling tears and pushed past the dead animals and unforgiving heat, screaming. She screamed for her mom and sister, hoping the sound would be carried farther from the depths of this inferno.
“Can anyone hear me?!” She choked out, turning in frenzy.
A crazed deer ran from the scorched bushes. Evil dodged at the last second.
The heart of the forest wailed. Birds overhead were flying away at the speed of light. They flew over one another, bumped into each other in a frenzy, and dropped like black rain over the flames.
Her heart was pounding in her chest with every step taken. Whether it was a step closer to safety or deeper into the ardent hysteria, only the Gods could tell.
Evil prayed. For the first time in years, she clasped her raw palms in a pitiful attempt to ask for help.
A figure flew overhead. A large bird with broad wings and a wide, imposing tail. Its intense eyes stared at Evil with a deeply personal familiarity that raised goosebumps all over her arms.
It landed on the tip of a fireless branch. While the whole tree struggled, set alight, that single branch stood untouched. Evil rubbed her eyes, getting ash to clump over her eyelashes.
She walked on shaky feet, going on nothing but pure adrenaline and a loud voice urging her to approach the bird.
Whenever she took a step closer, the fire from that tree receded, leaving behind perfectly intact wood and green leaves painted on a red canvas. Evil rushed, trying not to stumble over her feet. She knew that hawk would be her savior and carry her out of these dying woods.
The hawk’s gaze didn’t move. The road seemed to elongate, and Evil’s lungs were giving out.
“Wait a little longer!” she muttered, hoping the bird heard and showed some pity.
She made it to the base of the tree. She looked up to see the hawk looking down at her. She smiled, tears streaming down her bruised cheeks.
Evil’s fingers touched the trunk, old and scratchy but not warm. She leaned her face against its surface, listening to its ancient whispers. She could almost hear it telling her words of consolation.
The hawk’s wings spread majestically by its side, showcasing the mottled brown patterns adorning them. It stretched them far and wide, ready to take flight.
Evil’s reached out her hand, waiting to feel the cold air kiss her feverish flesh.
A splatter of red trickled down her face.
The hawk’s eyes were no longer patiently watching Evil, but staring lifelessly into the distance as the end of a long arrow pierced its body, nailing it to the tree.
A grief-stricken shriek pierced the air.
Evil fell to her knees, head in her hands, and began to sob.
She woke up in her bed, disoriented. The feeling of her skin sizzling lingered on her flesh. She touched her face with caution, scared of feeling the hawk’s blood lingering on her mouth like a cursed promise.
She tried to subdue her shaking. It was a nightmare, like any other. She was used to nightmares.
The house was quiet in the dead of night. Not even the sound of cars passing by disrupted the fragile stillness. The street lights soaked the asphalt in warm light. A cold wind blew inside, ruffling Evil’s hair.
She considered being a nuisance and asking Emma to sleep with her, had it not been so late in the night. Her body was still too paralyzed by fear to move.
The drawings on the walls stared at her with malice, peeking from the darkest corner of her room. The tape loosened with time. Two or three of them fluttered leisurely from the breeze breaking in.
The drawings fluttered more aggressively. Evil felt a chill go down her spine. The cold must’ve seeped into her bones during sleep.
The flickering lights from the lanterns dimmed in a quiet escape. Evil reached for her own lamp on the bedside table. The switch wouldn’t turn on. She frowned and checked the snuff only to see the wire plugged. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat.
The hands of the clock ceased to move. The shortest one stopped at three, though Evil could’ve sworn it pointed at one only a few minutes ago.
Henry’s drawing wasn’t there. It must’ve fallen sometime during the night.
Evil would’ve gotten to pick it up, had her legs not been paralyzed. She felt chained to her bed, with heavy weights tied around her ankles.
4 o’clock
Strange.
The silence was defeating. Heavy. Suffocating. It hugged her lungs like a snake, curling around her windpipe. The floor began to creak, untouched. She bit her lip, unable to scream.
5 o’clock.
Evil’s pulse quickened by the minute. Should she ask her mom for medicine? Maybe some tea would put her back to sleep. Anything that would help her close her eyes and stop her from seeing it .
6 o’clock.
Wasn’t it supposed to be light by now?
Still, the only light came from the flickering lanterns outside. It reflected on both their pale faces like porcelain.
Evil’s eyes reddened from the strain. She wanted to blink, but couldn’t look away. Every time she closed her eyes, it smiled a bit wider.
2 o’clock?
The weight of the bed creased beside her.
She bit down on her lip and tore her gaze away from the one lying under her desk.
She looked at her window for a split second. Even though she knew what would await her, her stomach dropped nonetheless.
Her shaky breath was accompanied by another. Evil begged her brain to ignore it ever since waking up from her dream. Now, the contrast between her ragged breaths and its stable, slow intakes of air was like night and day.
The window was closed, and the cold puffs of air came from behind her.
A bone-chilling scream killed the heavy silence. Evil’s ankle was yanked with force, dragging her from her bed and onto the floor.
Her eyes searched frantically for whatever it was. She couldn’t make out anything in the darkness, besides a tall figure with a putrid smell like leather being tanned over a flame . It was the new figure she had seen in her nightmares. She felt this despite her distorted vision.
Its movements were sluggish and heavy, but it didn’t make a sound. It slithered around the room like a phantom in the night.
Evil scurried to her feet, only to be slammed down again.
“Mom! He-” She tried to shout, before claws wrapped around her throat. Her muscles tightened painfully, pulsing against its sharp skin.
The other her sat in silence, sitting against the corner under her desk. Its eyes were opened wide and bloodshot, watching the scene unfold without helping or harming. It’s smile froze the blood in Evil’s veins.
She felt herself fly across the room, hitting the wall with a loud thud. Bones cracked, and her head hit the concrete. After a few painless seconds, a throbbing ache overwhelmed her senses. Blackness filled her sight, and she was sure she’d pass out. She was almost grateful.
The fairytale didn’t last, awakened by the sudden stabbing sensation in her stomach as she was met with the sight of long, deep, scratch marks left behind by razor-sharp claws. When she felt the hot blood dripping on her skin, that’s when she started to yell.
She didn’t know if screaming would help, or if she was just luring her own mom and sister into that mess. Maybe dying would have been the wiser choice for both parties if only her survival instinct had given up.
Her body was heavy, and every part of it burned hot. She tried to move, but the sensation of needles jamming into her skin stopped her immediately.
The figure ran its claws through already opened wounds, carving deeper into the bleeding flesh. Evil yelled, her throat becoming more raw by the second. Metallic taste flooded her mouth, and she choked on her own howl.
She tried to crawl on the wet floor, thinking she could maybe reach the door and get out. The other her watched in delight as she scurried and twisted like a dying worm. It’s long black hair mixed with Evil’s blood and wrapped itself around her ankles and arms, stuck to her skin, and cut through her tendons.
The feel of it on her body made her retch. It touched every corner and slithered under her skin like crawling maggots.
She used all the might left in her to move a few centimeters closer to the door. Laughter echoed in the background as she was picked up and thrown again. Her bedside hit her hip, sending another round of pain to her entire left side. Her ribs hit the floor, and all of the air in her lungs dispersed.
Every corner in the room had been met with a dash of her blood.
She took another hit.
Her screaming mixed with the manic laughter in a grotesque symphony.
And another hit.
Tears ran down her face. Her skin burned so badly that the tears were almost refreshing. Like a breath of clean air.
Time blurred between the hits. She tried concentrating on breathing against the hail coiling in her throat.
And another.
She could’ve sworn she heard banging on the door and her mom and sister shouting, saying something she couldn’t make out. Were they there? Or were those just other creatures?
She lay on the floor, facing her corpse-like twin. As her eyes slowly closed, she let out a relieved sigh. Finally, she didn’t have to see her smile anymore.
Emma barged into the room. She heard Evil’s screams and woke up on the spot. Although the screaming must’ve lasted only two minutes, upon entering her sister’s bedroom, she saw her lying down in a pool of blood, barely conscious.
Emma let out a horrified shriek. It had never been this bad before.
She turned on the light, and Ophelia rushed past her to examine Evil’s state. She helped her mother with trembling hands.
Her hair looked like a bird’s nest after a massacre - tangled and full of blood. Her face was just as full of the red smeared all over. Cuts stretched across her arms and neck, swollen and purple in a freakish contrast with her pale skin.
Evil had begun to open her eyes, sensing the caresses of their mom, who was trying her best to stay calm and talk to her using her reassuring voice.
“Easy, baby, don’t rush. You’re okay.”
Evil was far from okay, but Emma appreciated her mother’s ability to look at ease in critical situations. Although no doubt, pure panic flowed through Ophelia’s veins.
Evil’s power had left marks before. Scrapes and bruises. A blackened eye, a torn lip.
Nothing could’ve prepared them for this.
Evil blinked a few times, then winced when trying to get up. Their mom placed a hand on her and gently pushed her back. “Don’t get up yet, love, you’re hurt.”
Evil’s head was spinning from the effort. The unpleasant feeling of nausea suddenly climbed up her throat. She slapped her palm over her mouth and swallowed hard, battling the phantom sensation of hair down her esophagus.
“My legs…”
Emma quickly pulled off her blanket and trousers to unveil deep gashes going across her thighs.
Evil winced and looked away, her face catching a green tint. Ophelia frowned, her lip trembling in concern. She pushed Evil’s head further into her chest and signaled Emma to stay calm.
Emma trembled from shock and fear. A hint of anger bloomed in her chest. She wasn’t sure who to blame. The demons? Fate? The universe? Nox?
Emma took Evil’s hand into her own. “You’re safe now, don’t worry,” she reassured her, hoping she sounded more confident than she was.
“Stay here with your sister for a second, I’ll go get bandages,” Her mom announced and left the room after helping Evil stay up against the pillows. Emma didn’t know how to go about this.
Her mother was drowning in worry, and Evil… wasn’t entirely there. What could she say to alleviate the pain? She still held her hand but didn’t know if Evil even noticed at all. She appeared too busy staring into the distance, trapped inside her mind.
“Evil?” Emma started, unsure. “You…you okay?”
Evil sighed deeply. Then, she nodded slowly.
Emma half expected her to answer sarcastically with a “never been better” or “great, just ignore the blood”. The fact that it didn’t come, the fact that silence took over the room, made the atmosphere more unnerving.
“Henry paid a visit today.” Evil’s expression hardened. “The drawing didn’t capture his essence well.”
Emma tilted her head, waiting for her to continue. “He’s uglier in real life. Taller, too. I couldn’t see him properly, just caught some glimpses when the light hit the right angles. His body was… covered in charred skin with holes and missing chunks of muscle. Like a decomposed body, but so much worse.”
A mix of shock and horror settled on Emma’s face. She peered at the drawing hung above the desk, just that morning.
“Where does it hurt the most?”
Evil glanced at the bleeding slashes on her legs.
The small wounds had already begun to heal, albeit slower than they would have normally. Emma was amazed that Evil had found the strength to stay conscious.
Evil’s lack of energy slowed the healing process. At that rate, she would have had to be taken to the hospital. The hospital, for both of them, always meant the final option. It would have been difficult to explain how the incident even took place.
“I’ll try to heal it.”
Emma had the power to heal wounds. She was used to healing small cuts, scratches, and occasional bruises - it wasn’t a problem. The problem was her lack of experience working with larger injuries. Fortunately, there was no way to make the situation worse, not for Evil at least. However, she may not be able to channel the energy properly and become exhausted, passing out next to her sister.
Evil didn’t object, so Emma placed her hand on her sister, focusing all her strength on one point. Emma’s hand and Evil’s wounds began to glow faintly. Evil made a sound of protest. “Stay still,” she reminded her.
It took concentration to regulate her breathing. Four seconds inhale, four exhale. Wait another four seconds and restart the cycle. Her mother taught her how to regulate her anxiety when she was younger. It came in handy.
She furrowed her brows, already feeling tired, but she pushed through. The glow became brighter, embracing both in a warm light. Her hand warmed up, as if it had been held above a flame. Drops of sweat slid down Emma’s focused face, making their way to her neck. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, feeling tingling all over her body. Needles poked through her palm unceasingly.
The damage was visibly healing under the light, much faster than it would heal normally, even for them. She held her ground just enough for the wound to close and stopped the energy flow by pulling her hand back aggressively.
Her palm stung and burned. She shook it off, though. The pain Evil had to endure was way worse than whatever little side effects she had to deal with. Trying to catch her breath, she asked Evil how she felt.
Evil reached for the place where the gashes used to be. She frowned in anticipation, waiting to feel the pain to strike her body, but nothing happened. She looked at the empty, intact spot, which would have looked almost the same as normal had the blood and strange liquid been nonexistent.
“Better. Thanks.”
Emma wiped the sweat off her face with her forearm. “Don’t mention it.”
She sat closer to Evil and stayed silent for a moment to offer her sister the time to recover from the madness. For a little bit, only their breathing and the faint voice of their mother talking to someone on the phone resurrected the dead ambiance.
Evil raised her arm above her head and slowly turned it back and forth, analyzing it.
“At least my bracelet survived,” she noticed and smiled slightly.
“Isn’t that something?” Emma agreed.
The crimson-stained bracelet was a gift from Evil to Emma for their tenth birthday: matching bracelets, as they had this little tradition of giving each other gifts every year. Their tenth birthday was no exception. Evil had made the two of them. Emma’s bracelet was white, intricately braided, and decorated with 5 beads. One black in the middle and two white ones on each side. Evil’s was pretty much the same, except in the opposite colors.
“The day this bracelet breaks is the day the world comes crashing down,” Emma added.
“A little optimism,” Evil replied. “We might just survive and be the two last humans left on Earth.”
“Non-humans. And that’s terrifying.”
“It’d be fun!”
“For like a week. After that?”
“You didn’t give me enough time to think this through.”
“Do think about it. I want to hear how dumb it can get.” Emma smiled.
“You don’t want to hear what my brain can come up with,” Evil warned.
“So, what then? Should we drop the world destruction plan?”
“It’s unrealistic. It doesn’t take two girls to destroy the world.”
Emma shook her head. “It could only take one person.”
Raising a teenage demon and a teenage angel had got to take the cake for the world’s hardest job.
A day off wasn’t in the cards for Ophelia. She was headed to her aunt Glorya’s home.
Despite being family-oriented, Ophelia had cut contact with her relatives. Her family had decided to break ties with her once she had agreed to raise the girls. Her kind respects supernatural beings, but the basic rule is not to mess with them. Never link your destinies with them. By agreeing to raise two of their children, one can call it “destiny binding.”
She had walked for several hours and made a mental note to go on walks more often, and then thanked the Lux that witches aged more slowly than humans because it would have been a pain to deal with arthritis so early in life.
The ancient forest seemed enchanted. Welcoming at first sight, but recoiled in disgust at the sight of strangers. The birds stopped singing their cheerful lullabies and ants crawled back into the crevices carved into the old oaks. The grandness of it was overwhelming, spilling over valleys and blanketing thousands of miles of land, as far as the eye could see. Once inside, the beginning and the end merged into a confusing haze. Like an ancient deity, it cradled you and claimed passers as hers.
The nature warped your perception, rearranging itself around you. It tricked passers into getting lost, for man is a destructive species with brutish ideals. It whispered soothing words as it consumed you and blanketed you with heavy moss that wouldn’t let you leave.
Ophelia knew her way around it. Knew which paths not to take, for she wouldn’t have resurfaced back alive. She knew which branches to push out of the way, which trunks to use as trail makers. The caws of crows looming overhead welcomed her back home.
The forest was just to its residents. The sunlight caressed the hidden paths molded by the feet of the witches before her. Generations of women living with the spirits were rewarded to use nature’s powers and call these woods a home.
Ophelia reminisced about the times she’d get lost, running from her mother because she didn’t want to be brought back inside for supper. She smiled, realizing how alike she and her girls were. Their little legs, sprinting barefoot through the wet grass at dawn, laughing while Ophelia chased them. She played into their games time and time again, running out of breath while their chase was just getting started. They didn’t give up even when tired, choosing to hide instead of calling quits and admitting defeat. Ophelia always knew where to find them: at the creek, splashing each other.
A similar creek ran down the path to her own childhood home. Small and shallow, babbling riddles Ophelia never decoded. It held her hand on her way to the little hut. It stood below, at the end of the path- a small house, cleverly hidden by the vegetation that merged with the walls of the house. She made her way to the door and knocked loud enough for the other to hear.
The door revealed an older woman. Taller and broader than Ophelia,with tanned skin and short black hair, but with the same welcoming grey eyes. Ophelia jumped over the dry formalities and took her in her arms as soon as she saw her. Glorya returned her gesture just as quickly, embracing her affectionately.
She took in a sharp intake of air, lavender smell invading her senses. She smelled like the home Ophelia had lost long ago.
“Well, don’t stand there, sweetheart, come inside.”
Ophelia sat down in one of the chairs at the table. Glorya boiled the tea water and pushed a plate of freshly baked goods toward her, which Ophelia greatly appreciated.
“I made your favourites. Been centuries since I last saw you.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” Ophelia apologized. “I’ve just been-“
“Busy, I know,” she interrupted her. “How are the girls?”
“Good,” Ophelia tried to say, wanting to avoid discussing the topic so soon after her arrival, but her tone was too obvious. She wouldn’t have believed herself either. “Well, not so good, actually.”
Glorya stood with her back against the table, waiting for the tea to brew. Her aunt has not changed at all since the last time he saw her. The beads braided into her hair clinked as she tilted her hair, signaling her niece that she had her full attention. Ophelia watched her play with the rims of her blue blouse.
Ophelia sighed. “It’s Evil,” she admitted.
“What about Evil?” Glorya poured the tea and sat down in front of her niece.
“You know how her powers have never been…stable. I’m afraid it’s getting worse, Glorya. Much worse.”
“How bad has it gotten?”
“To the point of her getting hurt. I don’t mean a few bruises, I mean really hurt. A week ago I found her all bloody and barely conscious in her room.”
“Good God…,” the other exclaimed in horror.
“And it’s not the first time, but this time she almost…she looked like a corpse, Glorya. I’m afraid next time I’ll find her dead.” Her voice quivered at the thought.
“Any sign from-“
“No. I haven’t heard from Rimon in years,” Ophelia’s fingers trembled as she brought her teacup closer. “I don’t know where she is, or if she’s even alive. Her child is dying and –“
Ophelia stopped abruptly. “ My child is dying. I can’t stand by.” She shifted in her seat, stirring the tea so aggressively it almost spilled.
She didn’t want to break down in front of the girls. She endured seeing them suffer for so long with no outlet for her worry to spill. Words poured out of her at last, knowing Glorya would listen.
Glorya tapped her fingers on the table and slurped the hot beverage slowly. The silence became deafening, and Ophelia felt herself growing more agitated.
“I’m not a demon, I have no clue how to help her,” she continued after seeing no response, “or train her, or simply stop this mess. Besides Rimon, I wouldn’t trust any demon to stay as close as ten meters away from her. Not with this predicament we’re in. ”
“And you shouldn’t,” Glorya agreed. “Demons and angels nowadays are not to be trusted under any circumstances. I understand why you accepted Rimon and Nataniel’s proposal, considering your history together, but that remains an isolated case.”
Glorya tapped the table with her ringed fingers. “Even if you found a trustworthy one, they wouldn’t train your girl out of the kindness of their hearst. Demons want their debts paid. They’d take her away.”
“So,” Ophelia raised her head, “what is there to do?”
“The child is sick, dear. A demon raised by witches is unheard of. Their powers are destructive. Demons train their youth very young to avoid this. Her untrained body is overwhelmed by the bursts of power entering her system. It can’t self-regulate, so it spills out like regurgitated poison.”
“Evilyn’s abilities are vile. Now, her vessel is cracking at a fast pace, and the poison is spilling out more and more. One of these days, her body will break. Too damaged to fix, I’m afraid.”
“How can I stop her from breaking?”
“Girl needs to be trained. By a demon is the correct way…”
“But demons aren’t in the question,” she argued. “What else is left?”
“Not by an actual demon per se, but a demonologist might do the trick. Our family knows a few, close to us, who could help your girl. Those people know the ins and outs of a demon; it should be good enough to help her channel her abilities correctly.”
“I’ll reach out to them, but it might take a little while. Try and cast as many protection spells as you can in the meantime.”
“Thank you, Glorya. So much.”
Just as Ophelia was about to ask her aunt more questions, her phone rang out of the blue. She patted her pockets two, three times before finding the buzzing object and sliding the green button without checking out the caller ID beforehand.
Guessing it must’ve been one of the girls, she prepared herself to hear one of their voices on the line. Her expression soon hardened at the sound of a mature, male voice.
“Is this Ophelia Halcyon?” he asked calmly.
“It is,” Ophelia followed, suspiciously, “Who am I talking to?”
“My name is Doctor Valmort. I’m calling about your daughter, Evilyn.”