Chapter 12: The Uncanny likeness

"Lord of Zapareth."

His voice reverberated in the Great Hall. The still coldness in his voice sent shivers down the spines of many.

The men and the women shuddered because of the name that had been mentioned. The Lord of Zapareth was a warlock, and a very tyrannical one. He was known for his bloodthirsty escapades, killing people at his whim.

Dark and ancient magic was something that was mysterious to most people. Nobody knew his past, or how he managed to conjure ancient magic. The ghost that was in front of them, the angry bats that had blocked all the light in the castle, all of these magic were beyond their human understanding.

One man in the audience shuddered as well, but not from fear.

Peter Black saw the evil warlock's apparition and he was taken by surprise. He felt his face turn hot and he almost have an urge to hide his face. When he looked into the evil warlock's face, even in its green translucency, there was no denial the uncanny likeness that he himself bore.

It would not take a genius to see that Peter Black was somehow related to the Lord of Zapareth.

Peter did not know anything about his past. It was a completely empty vacuum. He only remembered waking up sore, wasted one day covered with dirt. He only had a name, Peter. Nothing else.

Black was a name he later came up with. It was the most instinctive thing as the word Black resembled the darkness that he always knew he came from.

He was drawn to the dark and the mysterious. He was inherently evil, and now he saw that evil point blank in his face.

That man, or ghost, or ghost of a man, was either his twin or his brother, the very epitome of evil and darkness.