The Vampire's Curse

Witchnight. The rarest night for Darkorb. The three moons in conjunction with each other- the nearest blocking out all light, plunging the small world into true darkness. This was the night all witches were at their strongest.

Across the planet on this night, all covens were out, claiming back the land, dancing, spell casting, and in most cases, meeting each other for the first time in the year. It was a time for fun, but also a time of importance.

The Riddle Coven was no different. Hidden in the depths of the forest, a flickering purple campfire threw smoke high into the sky. Laughter and music could be heard for miles around- but no Human ventured near enough to find out what they were doing. The Riddles were seen as the scariest of all Witch Covens- because of the style of magic they used. Out of the many different types of spell casting possible- potions, plants, chanting and singing- the Riddles had chosen the most dangerous. That of the spoken word. It needed nothing added to it, just the right words, to form the worst curse.

Persephone stood up. As the leader of the Coven, she was the oldest, and most experienced of all the others in the group- although she looked no older than any other there.

‘Hush, now, my sister!’ she called, and the music died. All attention turned to her. ‘We have danced, eaten and celebrated our Witchnight, and now it is time to plan and talk.’

The mood around the fire changed, all smiling faces turned serious. One by one, the woman all stood and took hands around the fire, watching as the flames darkened to black. ‘We, the sisters of the Riddle Coven, pledge our allegiance to Persephone and which ever path she chooses to take.’ Each witch then stepped forward and threw a single orange petal into the fire. The same ritual had been done at the start of every meeting this Coven had had since any of them could remember.

‘Thank you, sister.’ Persephone said, smiling round at them. ‘And now we shall start. We finally have another Witch coming of age this year. My own daughter will be turning eighteen next full moon. And we all know what that means for her.’

A ripple went through the circle. ‘Marriage.’ They muttered.

‘Exactly. Sophie?’ Persephone’s eyes swept round the fire, seeking out her daughter. The came to rest on a tall girl. ‘Sophie, step forwards and show us who you have chosen.’

The tall girl moved towards the fire, her brown hair shining in the light. She raised her hands, casting a white powder in to the flames calling out ‘Show me my love to be!’ the flames formed an image of a boy asleep. He had golden yellow hair, and pale skin. With a pop, the image disappeared. ‘That, sisters, was Lukas. He is the boy I have chosen.’ She stepped back again, and her mother took her place.

‘So be it.’

The witches stayed in the forest until the sky had started turning red. One by one, they all left for their homes to start planning a wedding they all thought would happen. Persephone went straight to the chosen boy’s house. She knocked, and the boy opened it. Her breath was taken away- the vision in the fire had not done justice. He had sparkling bright green eyes, and almost white gold hair.

He frowned in confusion. ‘Ma’am, is anything the matter?’ Of course, he would know who she was.

‘there is nothing the matter. But I have a proposition for you, Lukas.’

‘whatever you need, Ma’am. I am happy to help.’

She smiled. Al humans were obliged to help the witch causes- or they would be cursed. ‘Good. You know my daughter, Sophie?’

He nods. ‘Vaguely.’

‘Well, she has noticed you. And she has chosen you.’

His eyes widen in shock. ‘no.’

‘What?’

‘I’m sorry. But she may have chosen me, but I refuse. I will not marry her. I cannot love her.’

Persephone’s eyes darken, and she takes a step back watching him. He doesn’t move.

‘You will regret your choice, Lukas.’

He smiles sadly, knowing what was about to happen. ‘I know. But I will not change it.’

‘Very well.’ She raised her hands, palms forward. ‘I curse you, Lukas. You will live forever, Your heart cold and still, the taste and smell of moral blood forever on your mind. If you ever love, you will end up hurting them. Your need for blood will over rule everything. Let it be.’

She dropped her hands, watching is satisfaction as Lukas stumbled back in to the wall, gasping for air. He fell to the ground, cluching his heart as it stuttered, then stopped. His eyes flashed up to meet Persephone’s- no longer green, but a silvery grey.

Persephone smiled, turning away and leaving him. Her curse had worked.

Lukas was no longer a mortal man.