The Warlocks Daughter

by R.J. Adams

  Eleven

  We enter the castle, me on the arm of Chanile and my father before us. Everyone kneels before us and bows their heads as we walk passed out of respect for the royalty that we are. I feel like the evil inside of me is jumping for joy as I am seen as someone of high importance. I never had anything as a child and now these people are worshiping me, is it bad to want that?

  There is a large glass ceiling looking out the skies above the castle. The moon shines in the black sky creating a dark blue night effect and I appear to be able to see stars, as dark as it may be, it does actually look quite pretty.

  I look in the large mirrors as we pass them and I begin to see myself turning completely dark, my hair and my eyes are now as black as the night, my skin a lovely shade of pale pink and my lips so red and shiny I look like I have painted them with blood. I stand and admire the evil which has made me appear beautiful.

  A cage on wheels rolls up next to me being pushed by the warriors. My mind registers that it is Toby in there but the darkness within me stops me from acting, it is as if I am enjoying the pain he is being inflicted with.

  “Willow,” he mumbles, “please fight this, don’t let the darkness consume you, fight it, I know why you do, because you believe it’s the best you will ever have after coming from nothing, you think that you cannot do any better and after killing someone you think it is who you are and that there will be no consequences, but there are, death of people, children, you can do better than this,” he begs me as they cart him away.

  I call out and stop them; the warriors look at me but say nothing and do as instructed. I walk over to Toby whose face shows fear, “you,” I snarl, “the protector, the one who was supposed to help me, now look at you in a cage and barely able to help me at all,” I feel as if I want to cry but then the evil within me stops the tears, “you failed and you cannot help me now, the darkness has won, this is who I am.”

  He screams at me begging me to stop as they take him away. My father turns me away from him and I smile, a warrior comes towards me and fails to kneel at my feet, what an asshole, does he not know who I am? Feeling annoyed at his ignorance, I raise my hand to him as my dark magic lifts him into the air. He begins to choke and I watch on his pleasure as he desperately gasps for air. These warriors aren’t magical, they have no power, they are just an army created to fulfil a purpose. I am so angry, I feel as if I could scream at the top of my lungs and burst into rage, is this the darkness in me or just me because I’m hurting, I am accepting this dark gift, it is who I was born to be but as much as the black magic flourishes through my veins, I still feel torn inside.

  My father touches my arm after admiring me and my power, I look at him and then let the warrior drop to the floor, there I leave him coughing trying to breathe again. I guess I am powerful; I gripped his throat so tightly without even touching him physically.

  Feeling in some sort of pleasurable evil trance, I am lead to a room by Chanile, my father kisses me on the forehead and for a moment he seems like a caring and loving father. He looks at Chanile and then leaves.

  I look around the room; it is a bedroom with a large four poster bed dripping in satin drapes and sheets. A fire burns in the corner keeping the room warm and dark creepy gargoyle like statues hang on the walls. I feel as if their stone eyes are watching and judging me.

  “You and I have a duty to fulfil,” his deep voice almost echoes in the room.

  A duty, is that what he sees this as? “Oh really, and what duty is that?”

  He moves closer to me, “to be united as one, to create that which has been foreseen, our bond is strong,” he pulls me into him, “you feel it don’t you, deep inside just as I feel you.”

  I pull him into me as I walk backwards reaching the bed. I lie down and invite him to lie on top of me. He slides between my legs and I feel his manly body hover over mine.

  For a second I feel he is going to be gentle with me, but that thought only lasts for a moment, he rips my jeans off with one hand without a struggle and touches me.

  I lie still and just stare into him; this man has me totally fixated on him and nothing else. I feel him tear all of my clothes off until my bare body lies beneath him.

  He kisses me hard and pushes his erection deep into me without doing anything else; if that was foreplay I must admit I am disappointed. It’s not soft loving and gentle, it is a fuck like I am some sort of slut from a whorehouse for him to play with.

  My eyes stay open as I look above to ceiling. Images of a war are painted on it showing the destruction of humanity. I’m not sure if it’s me but it seems as if the images in the painting are moving. There in the corner is a baby and his eyes are black just like mine.

  Chanile flips me over distracting me from painting as I now look down to the bed on my hands and knees with him behind me. He grabs my hips and pulls me back on to his monstrous dick, this guy feels huge. He pounds me; each thrust feels deeper than the first and getting stronger.

  I feel a small amount of pleasure as the sex intensifies and my vagina feels every inch of him. I moan with gratification as his hands grip my hips, pulling me onto him.

  Magic starts to swirl around us in the form of black mist; he pulls my arms behind my back and lifts me so I am on just my knees, my back touching his tight muscled chest.

  The harder he fucks me, the more the magic around us accentuates. I begin moaning louder as pleasure soars through my body; Chanile is pounding me so hard I can hear the sounds of the skin to skin contact as they make a clapping sound when he bangs into me.

  “You and I are one,” he moans. His magic pushes me up the bed and my chest is now against the wall. He flips me around and lifts me onto his waist; he inserts himself into me once again.

  The images in the painting on the ceiling seem to be coming to life, it must be my imagination, a battle commences and the baby is moving, how is that possible, it’s just a painting, right?

  Chanile’s fucks me so hard I begin to scream out, both pleasure and pain. His moan deepens and dark magic, like a shadow forms between us, it shoots into the ceiling as Chanile’s fingers dig into my skin and then it all stops and everything around me goes dark.

  I open my eyes slightly disorientated, did I fall asleep? I sit up and look around me; I am all on my own feeling the urge to destroy anything and everything.

  I get up and look down to see I am in another ball-gown type dress. The dress is black and elegantly stunning, it’s a beautiful embroidered and glitter tulle fabric on the ball-gown type skirt, a full skirt like a wedding dress and bust line with a pleated tulle bodice. I feel like a Princess.

  My hair is a mess though, not impressed with that. I’m in this beautiful gown, somehow, and yet no-one fixed my hair? I can do magic to fix this right? After-all, I am the most powerful witch in the world apparently so why not? Feeling adventurous, I wave my hand in the air and whisper “let’s fix what I can see, the hair for a Princess, now a queen.” My hair begins to move on its own as I watch the reflection in the mirror, I laugh as magic does my hair. It curls it into stunning waves slightly bumped up at the top, there, done.

  My father enters looking pleased with himself, “my daughter, you look beautiful.”

  “What am I wearing and how did I get it on?” I look at my reflection; I cannot stop touching this beautiful dress.

  “It is your wedding dress, the slaves helped put it on you, do you not like it?”

  “No I think it’s beautiful,” I look at him confused, “slaves? We have slaves?”

  He laughs, “of course we do, humans who are beneath us, it doesn’t matter, here this is for you,” he hands be a wreath to put in my hair, it is made out of sparkling black roses, it would be pretty if it didn’t seem so morbid.

  “I am glad you chose to join us my daughter, your power will lead us into a great victory, finally the Lefire Warlocks and Witches will have what it is they deserve.”

  I acknowledge his speech but I do not respond, I just look at my
self. Dark magic really can change your appearance.

  He leaves me be and I place the wreath on my head. Staring at myself in the mirror this is it, this is me and who I was born to be. I cannot change it now; I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.

  “Willow,” I hear whispered in the air, the mirror begins to show some very heavy white clouds like a storm and appearing through the mirror is a figure, am I dreaming? There is a figure and clouds in my mirror. “Willow this is not who you are, you are a good witch with a heart inside of you, do not let darkness consume you, you think you deserve this but you don’t.”

  That voice, is sounds familiar to me, why do I know it? “Who is that?”

  “Willow you must fight it, only your strength will unite you and your Voluric, you must have faith in good magic and together you can defeat this.”

  I cover my ears, I do not want to hear anymore, I want it to stop trying to tear me apart, the magic inside me fights to be free, both dark and light. I gave into something that it appeared who I was meant to be, what I was meant to choose, I wish they would stop pulling me in different directions and just let me be.

  “Stop it, stop it, stop it,” I scream smashing the mirror into pieces and making the voices disappear. “I am the dark Princess, I must be,” I mumble into the air at whoever may be listening, “the darkness has won, I cannot fight it anymore, I deserve nothing, I killed a woman, I deserve darkness and those around me never helped me, no-one deserves to live in the light, humans will perish, humans are bad.”

  I almost break into tears but a knock on the door stops me. A warrior pops his head around giving me the look that they are waiting for me.

  He leads me to a grand hall where it is decorated with everything so dark and sinister it would give you nightmares.

  As I walk passed the crowd of warriors, there in-front of me I see a small child, he looks no older to me than about seven or maybe even eight years old.

  He is dirty, like he has not seen a bath or shower in months, who is he? I watch as a warrior pulls him out of the way to allow me to pass, oh my god is he a slave? Is this who my father see’s as unworthy? Do children deserve to be punished because the darkness in me says so? Is the whole world of people to be judged because I say so, simply because of one bad person?

  Dangling above me in a cage is Toby. I look up and his eyes lock on mine. Images flash in my head of Toby and I fighting the darkness.

  I see flashbacks in my head of everything that we have been through and I remember the feeling of being in his arms. The child behind me is starved and beaten, a slave to the darkness for no other reason than he is apparently unworthy. Wait, this isn’t right, children should be protected, I should have been protected, is this what I want? Whether or not I believe it is what I deserve, other children shouldn’t suffer the same fate as me and live in darkness, I let the power consume because I thought there would be no consequences for this, but there is, I’m looking at it!

  I feel something drain from me, as if the heavy dark magic in my soul is draining out of me. I catch a reflection of myself and I see the darkness in my eyes has gone.

  Oh my god! The one thing I said I didn’t want but I succumbed to it because it was easy, tempting and it seemed like there were no consequences of dark magic, just free to do as you choose, feel sexy, feel wanted, it’s all the things I have craved for so many years.

  Looking at Toby and the child I realise there are not just consequences but severe ones, death, families torn apart, darkness upon normal people who go about their everyday lives like they should, slavery and above all an evil child that will rule them as if he were the devil, the destroyer of humanity for his own personal gain.

  Yes some of humanity is bad, but we cannot justify our actions and using black magic to punish those we believe are guilty or unworthy, isn’t that what society does anyway? Isn’t that what I have read about in books, that there are those put in place to punish the guilty because that is their job? Not us, us with the power of magic to do so because it pleases us.

  I look back up at Toby and tears form in my eyes, my god, what have I done?

 

  I reach the end to be stood at an alter, there on lectern stand is a black book with red pages.

  My father is muttering something but again I do not understand what he is saying, it appears to be in a different language. Chanile holds his hand out and reluctantly I take it.

  If he wasn’t so evil I would think he was incredibly handsome. Dressed in fitted armour that emphasises his ripped and toned torso, a black satin cape that fall’s behind him and his warrior mask that highlights his seductive dark eyes.

  Torches burn brightly with raging fire behind my father and I can hear the painful screams of people that appear to be trapped in them, are they dead souls or slaves of his black magic? I can hardly bear the thought.

  The cage above is lowered, hovering over the heads of Chanile and I as the crowd behind calms down.

  “My warriors, my people, fellow warlocks and witches,” he holds his hands up addressing them, “we unite the Capara, dark blood will seal their fate as they become one. Lefire will reign in darkness, my daughter will become queen as her mate will become her king. Tekati and Lefire joined together to bring the darkness to those unworthy of being.”

  I look around as everyone is silent and for the first time I see women amongst the crowds, some women stood behind their men but their faces do not seem as happy as you would expect them to be.

  They are not wives or lovers, they are slaves the Lefire Warriors, kept against their will, used for sex whenever it is seen fit as reproduction machines. Then there are those women who are clearly witches and show no consideration for the mortal women and children, it’s cold and spiteful.

  “Stop!” I scream out, all eyes are now fixed on me. I cannot let this go any further. I will not give into the dark magic once again.

  “My daughter,” my father looks deeply at me, “is there something wrong?”

  “Yes,” I pull my hand away from Chanile’s grip, “you, all of you, I refuse to be the one who brings down humanity with dark magic, this isn’t right.”

  “How dare you defy me, I am your father,” he slaps me hard across the face and I fall onto the floor, “we have spent centuries battling, when you were born we knew it was over but then your mother took you away, no wonder you are so soft.”

  “Defy you?” I snap getting up from the floor holding my face, it stings, “I have done nothing to defy you, you are not my father, you wouldn’t know what a father is.”

  “I am your father, our bloodline is the same, my blood flows through you,” he snarls.

  “We may share a bloodline but I also share a fucking bloodline with my mother, and I do not choose darkness,” I hold my hand up to the cage above carrying Toby, with the will to use good magic white light and dust clouds spring from my hand, knocking the cage on the floor.

  He climbs out and grabs me, “are you okay? Thank god you came to your senses you absolute nutter,” he smiles with that cheeky sarcasm that makes Toby, Toby.

  “You think you can both get away from me, you are so far behind on how to use the magic within in you there is no way you can defeat me,” my father snaps angrily.

  Toby and I run down the stairs to be met by angry warriors standing up for my father’s demands, my god are they that brainwashed they cannot see that what is happening is very wrong?

  I look to the women who have gone off and are cowering in the corners, clutching on to the children to keep them safe. The witches and warlocks gather in their numbers ready for a battle. Toby and I move and turn to walk away; I don’t want any part of the black magic family.

  My father throws fire at me which hits me in the back and sends me flying across the room. Warriors jump in but he stops them, “no!” he warns, “this is my fight and if my own flesh and blood is going to betray me then she is mine to destroy.”

  Toby battles the warriors, light shines from his body,
he looks like a fucking energy light bulb. Their dark magic is deflected off him and straight back to them.

  My father is coming towards me and I know this man is hell bent on killing me, that’s not a father is it? Someone who is willing to destroy their own daughter because she chooses light over dark? Because she chooses something he doesn’t want? No, that’s not what a father does at all.

  He is no father of mine and knowing this will make me stop at nothing to destroy him and make sure he doesn’t succeed.