Wicked Curse

Eight years ago...

•••

Two sorcerers and two sorceresses sat in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of the woods, somewhere outside of Olympia. It was cold and wet outside, and more rain was beginning to pour on the warehouse's old tin roof. It battered against the dirty windows, which hadn't been polished in at least twenty years. But the almighty Four had chosen this inconspicuous location for a very good reason.

One of the sorcerers, Alaric, stood up from their circle. "Margo, bring me the vial."

The sorceress stood up from the circle as well, and walked across the bare floor of the warehouse to a lone desk that stood askance from their circle. She opened the drawer and retrieved an empty glass vial, about the size of a man's thumb, and brought it to Alaric's outstretched hand. Then Alaric muttered a dark spell, closing his eyes as he channeled the energy into the vial. The other three whispered those words at the exact same time, all holding hands with eyes closed to further the spell along.

Then it was done.

The Four all opened their eyes and turned their attention to the vial. Alaric had placed it on the ground in the middle of their seated circle, and it was now full to the brim with a black fluid that reeked of death. It was the infamous maledictionem impius, or 'wicked curse', and it was known to be the most powerful spell ever created. Only the Four could craft such a thing without dying from the force of the very spell itself, which gave them a horrifying advantage over all other sorcerers and sorceresses in the world.

But one of these sorcerers wasn't exactly a pure-blooded sorcerer... he was also a werewolf. The most powerful member of their covenant, and their de facto leader.

And Alaric was also an omen-reader, a type of sorcerer that could read prophecies. He had received a vision only mere hours ago that a girl, who would later become a powerful huntress, would be the Four's very demise one day. Alaric was determined to end her before she could even grow up to realize what her destiny was, and this ancient spell would be more than enough to give her a painfully fast death. It worked by disrupting the entire human nervous system, which was then followed by the brain shutting down. It was said to be even more excruciating than getting a limb chopped off, and thus far the Four had only used it for their greatest enemies.

This girl from the prophecy was no exception. No one would dare try to kill the Four, not on Alaric's watch.

The werewolf sorcerer smiled darkly with his companions— Margo, Yaris, and Kain —as they arranged for the vial of death to be sent to the girl's current residence. With magic, it would only take an hour for the vial to be transported all the way down to the southernmost part of the country. Only Alaric was capable of receiving visions and prophecies, so he would watch in exactly one hour as the girl received the vial, disguised as a harmless drink that would appear from within her domain. Then she would choke on it and scream as both her nervous system and brain failed, and her destiny would be utterly destroyed.

Alaric's black fingertips contrasted harshly against his pale skin as night fell outside, and the inside of the warehouse was dark save for the few candles scattered around. The other three were silent around him, still seated on the floor in a tighter circle, now that Alaric had stood up. Without a word, he walked across the empty floor and pushed the doors open until he was standing in the sprinkling rain. The moon was at its fullest, and Alaric was encouraged to run through the forest until it set and the sun eventually rose. He stripped off his black trench coat and black pants, throwing those inside the dry warehouse, and he could still see the other three sitting calmly on the floor. He then removed his many charmed necklaces and rings, gently placing those on a neat pile on top of his clothes.

He walked further out into the cold and wet night, then effortlessly shifted into his beast form. He was now a colossal dark wolf, incapable of casting spells, but more than capable of bringing death throughout the nearby city of Olympia.

Alaric vanished into the night.

•••

Somewhere in Texas...

    Sindra hefted her backpack over her shoulders as she began to walk home from yet another grueling day of school, the leaves falling all around her as she popped her earbuds in. It was a cloudy Friday afternoon, and chances of rain later tonight were high, so the football game was likely to be canceled.

    Not like she cared that much anyway.

Cars from the car line milled past her as she walked on the sidewalk, music from her playlist blasting into her ears as she eventually left the school zone and made it to her suburban neighborhood. A chilly fall wind blew through the streets, pushing Sindra's hair back from her shoulders until it was billowing behind her. She wrapped her arms around herself, tugging the ends of her hoodie sleeves as far down as they would go over her hands to keep warm. As much as she loved the cold weather and the overcast skies that came with it, she didn't always prefer to actually be in it.

Once Sindra was walking up her driveway, a cold drizzle came out of nowhere, and she was thankful that she didn't have to walk in the sudden rain. She entered her house and went right upstairs, throwing her backpack onto her bed before returning downstairs for a snack. Her stomach sounded like ten hungry dogs growling all at once, and she was willing to eat anything that she found.

Until she saw her stepfather's body slumped at the kitchen table with a bottle of poisonous liquid spilled all over the floor, along with a note.

It was certainly the most unsettling way to start the weekend.