Chapter 100: Inner Demons (4)

A distant mournful howl prompted Catherine to lift her head and look around. Surprised at the effort such a simple motion required, the witch realised she was tied amidst the crumbling remnants of what must have once been a grand stone building. Her wrists and ankles were secured by invisible chains, spawning from the four directions of a huge magic circle, drawn on the ground. The lines, a deep crimson hue, shimmered in the fading afternoon light, casting an eerie glow upon the ruins, and filling the air with the metallic tang of blood.

The girl chuckled as she recognised the inscriptions written in Sylvanor around the edges of the circle, thinking about how weak and pitiful those who claimed to rule over magic were to resort to such a powerful ancient ritual just to stop a twelve-year-old girl.

'Twelve?' – Catherine thought through the daze engulfing her mind, struggling to focus amidst the pervasive pain coursing through her body, her vital energy nearly spent. Attempting to spread her wings, she found them unresponsive, broken and charred.

"Hurry up! If the human host dies like this, she could be unleashed. I am certain she had managed to leak enough of her power through the barrier!" – the girl's attention was seized by the impatient voice of a severe-looking, brawny, man with auburn hair and glowing silver eyes, standing just beyond the border of the circle.

"Keep it together, Walter!" – admonished one of the other Air Mages, who had been the one to finally bring her down by fatally damaging her right wing – "Give him a moment."

"A moment?" – barked Walter – "Do you not see where we stand, Aeolus? This was once the ballroom of my castle! How much longer must the House of Redmond suffer for the sins of House McMahon?"

"You're not the only one who has made sacrifices." – Aeolus Borealis countered firmly – "Half of Marquess Lovett's family was slaughtered, and we've also lost numerous relatives and allies! The blood of O'Dargan is still wet on the lines of the circle, not to mention Xavier Whiters paid the Price and his ashes are scattered somewhere on the fields of Bannockburn!"

"House McMahon remains steadfast in fulfilling its duty, ensuring that your sacrifices will not be in vain." – declared Robert McMahon in a solemn, subdued tone as he made his way through the small group of men. He was accompanied by a tall, distinguished grey-haired woman with eyes so blue they appeared violet. Despite his youth, the Duke bore the weight of his family's tragedy visibly on his sensitive features. A fresh gash marred his left cheek, casting a shadow of maturity beyond his twenty years, highlighted by the silver light emitted from his sad eyes.

"Marquess Whiters, Duke O'Dargan, whenever you're ready!" – the women, her violet eyes now glowing blue, spoke softly as she opened a simple wooden chest she was carrying, revealing an intricate dagger crafted from an unknown black metal. Without hesitation, she cut her palm and passed the weapon to the tall, bulky man with glowing red eyes and expression of pure hatred as he stared at Catherine. He also cut his palm swiftly passing the dagger to the short, fragile old wizard whose eyes were completely black as the depths of the earth. Tiernan O'Dargan repeated the motion of his comrades and silently offered the bloody blade to Robert who took it without hesitation. He approached the borders of the magic circle, slashing his left palm without hesitation.

"Remember, you have just one attempt to pierce her heart. If you fail the Skyfall Athame will crumble into dust due to the lack of demonic energy to be consumed, and we have just two of those in total. Be fast and precise!" – the woman's warning carried a hint of anxiety in her tone.

"Thank you for the advice and care, Your Grace!" – answered Robert without turning back – "The support of House Prince will not be forgotten."

With those words, he took a deep breath and stepped across the dark red line. Catherine strained against her chains, her fury mounting as the silly humans continued their idle chatter. They sought to capture her once more, condemning her to the depths of her prison, where she would languish for years until another McMahon girl was born, offering her a chance to escape into the real world. She attempted to summon Fiendfyre and obliterate the boy once and for all, but the chains, reinforced by the sacrifice of the four witches whose lives were used to summon the magic circle, held her fast, absorbing her powers like the parched earth absorbed the blood of the countless Muggles, wizards, and witches she had slain in the past week.

The chubby blond girl, dressed in a ragged blue dress, locked her red eyes with the man standing in front of her and smiled, revealing her sharp teeth.

"Come on, big brother! You've always cheated when playing with me! Is this your honour – stabbing your little sister while she's tied, and her wings broken?" – she goaded him, her voice hoarse and low.

"You are not my little sister." – replied Robert impassively, his hand firmly gripping the Skyfall Athame as his blood was mixing with the blood of the other three Elementalists – "My little sister was a gentle girl who loved every living thing. She could spend hours reading fairy tales to our younger brothers. The very same that you killed mercilessly. My Erin adored music and for her there was no greater pleasure than listening to our mother's songs. The same one you silenced forever. My Erin was so much more than a vessel for you!"

Catherine laughed wholeheartedly. The males in the McMahon's family had always been so pathetic. No matter how many times they had failed, they kept trying to elicit some sort of an emotional response or guilt from a demon. The Erin girl was much more pragmatic. She had realised she stood no chance once their powers began intertwining. The vessel did put up a fight initially, but eventually admitted defeat and succumbed to an eternal slumber, relinquishing control over her body and soul.

"So what? Do you want me to tell you in details how much I enjoyed killing your whiny little brothers or you would just go ahead and use that dagger you hold to destroy your sister's soul forever in order to postpone my inevitable escape?" – she smirked, enjoying the sight of the wizard's shaking fists and the wind that was promptly turning into a hurricane, powered by the Duke's rage – "That's the problem with you, mortals. You're so eager to throw away your miserable lives and those of your loved ones for achievements that are ultimately meaningless. All these efforts amount to nothing. I can wait until another girl cries out with your blood in her veins. How many more lives will you lose before you give up on this futile struggle?"

"The House McMahon will always fight the darkness! It's our duty and honour!" – Robert proclaimed, his voice ringing loud and clear, earning a few stern nods from the aristocrats behind him as he drove the Skyfall Athame, coated with the four types of elemental magic, straight into the girl's heart.

The piercing scream, full of insane rage, tore Erin McMahon's vocal cords. Catherine felt her consciousness separating from her ancestor's dying body. She saw Robert standing above his sister, head bowed and hand still gripping the dagger. A hot tear rolled down his cheek and dropped on the girl's pale lips.

"There's very little honour in our family." – he whispered almost inaudibly – "So many lives lost in the past week, all cursing our blood and wishing you had never been born. And despite knowing they were right, if I had to choose, I'd never give up the twelve years spent with you! That's how selfish I truly am. Rest in peace, Lady Erin Faye McMahon."

Catherine woke up, drenched in cold sweat, the myriad of images still vivid in her mind. She knew this was no ordinary nightmare; it felt all too real. She was able to hear and feel everything - she even smelled the burning wood, mixed with the scent of a battlefield. What was worse, she felt like a participant in the events unfolding before her. She was Erin, yet she was something else, a truth she chose not to confront. The memory of the sensation as the dagger ended her life and sealed the demon outside the realm of the living made the young witch choked. She could clearly feel the potent magical link to the demon's power that remained unbroken despite the death of its host.

Sitting in her four-poster bed, the girl found the room surprisingly bright, illuminated by the full moon casting a pool of light in the centre of the round space shared by the Gryffindor third-year girls. Her roommates lay sound asleep, their gentle breathing the only sound breaking the silence. Catherine hugged her knees and buried her face between them, feeling tainted inside. Despite the absence of flames, she detected the faint, residual heat of a fire lingering in the room.

Lifting her head, the girl stared at her trembling, thin hands, which still looked childish, much like Erin's had. 'She was younger than me.' – the witch thought, feeling chills down her spine - 'Do these dreams mean that the demon is starting to awaken? Should I tell anyone about them?'

Attempting to quell the tremors of pure fear coursing through her body, Catherine gazed at the tranquillity of the night sky. Suddenly, she stopped shaking, her mind drifting away from her problems.

'I hope Remus' transformation wasn't too hard on him.' – she mused as she settled back to her bed without much hope of going back to sleep – 'We're very much alike, him and me. Except he lives in his nightmare, while mine only haunts my dreams for now. I must fight this! It is my life, my body and soul, and I'll be damned if I don't defend them with every fibre of my being!'