The early days of her cunning beauty weren't imprecise or maquillaged as her frost like skin which was but a facade—her rigorous attempt at defying the ravageous nature of time-wheel. Vanille was never always a creature of aberration and mystique. Yet her insatiable heart never questioned her beautifully gnarled mind about the consequences of her actions. The circumstances warped her soul the second she joined Coven Bound. I was but an observer. Yet the memories shared over the centuries conveyed me of her vintage spirit and gave me a glimpse of her unyielding indurate eternal soul.
In her early years she remained a whimsical being—a very lower caste breed. Those ages were difficult for those who did not belong to any particular region or imperial grounds. Those who were restless beings without seasons roofs above their skulls. Those whimsical creatures could bring the doom of an Empire if they deemed, but they took glory in their orthodox methods.
Vanilla was one of those restless souls. Her father, a coal miner by daylight and a wasteful gambler by nightfall earned himself no respect in his worthless span of life. My beautiful adolescent Vanille endured manifold tormenting tribulations of life. However the most wrenching episode which drenched her blood with delectable malice leading to our centennial old troth occurred on the most awaited night. A rare hybrid lunar eclipse that comes once in 159 years. The precise and most thriving hour for dark wizards to reach their absolute potency.
The thorn vines cut deep into her flesh as she crawled vacantly through the coal black cursed forest. She was wandering in the woods for logs when a lustful ravenous whimsical being marred her wretched innocence. Her body was trampled, plunged into the corrupt river of salacity. The spectre of morbid plagued souls collaborated with the hooting of the birds of the night. She was neither frightened not sanguine by the ghastly shadows of the undead. Her hair-shorter than her later years and eyes-softer sea green shielded by a horde of dark saggy lashes, yet her velvety pearl skin and that mole on her chin remained unchanged. Her orange dress was affected by the mud and crimson droplets escaped her outer frame. The rustle of dead leaves underneath her, woke a jackal in the far distance extricating a wail ushering the storm of calamity. The howls rose above the sky and the moon which was dozing, slept entirely. It was the heart of the woods where the whimsical wizards gathered. The ritual auspicious for their kin began when Vanilla dragged her scared body to those masked creatures.
"What do you seek tormented soul?" The head of the Coven Bound respected and summoned as Senior asked Vanille.
The Senior was surrounded by five other youthful maidens who unveiled their faces while two other elderly woman poured out the untainted blood of a young lad from a pot into the sacrificial fire. The blazing inferno raised like a serpent's hood elucidating Vanilla's countenance. The sewn flesh of the lad left beside the fire turned blue with each passing minute.
Vanille kneeled on her sprained ankle lifting her head. "Such youth that brings disaster must remain eternal to summon damnation upon those wandering souls who succumbs to beguiling beauty."
"What shall your offering be?" The young vivacious maiden standing left to Senior asked Vanille with exuberant eyes.
"We have yet to summon our divine Lord, Katherine. Then we must ask what he will accept in return," the other young maiden on Senior's right warned Katherine. She was the beauteous Hazel, the younger sister of Katherine.
The Senior cut her wrist and the other five followed it dropping ten drops each on the fire which was burning on pure sandalwood. That was my first awakening. The robust fragrance of forbidden woods heightened my senses as I opened my eyes after thirty decades of slumber. The pristine insatiable lustre in Vanille's eyes enlightened me of her tenebrous desires. The year was 1626.
"Pledge your eternal loyalty to thy lord, lost girl," Hazel took her hand to slit her wrist.
Vanilla's unhesitant eyes glistened as she stated, "I, Vanille Scorpio, pledge my eternal loyalty to my lord. I offer my soul at your feet."
I smirked. "Your soul? How possibly one piteous soul such as yours can satiate my thirst?"
Vanille held the dagger at the edge of her throat. "I shall perish right here then if my lord doesn't fancy this lost soul. Yet I can offer nothing but my eternal worship to my greater king."
I had never received a glimpse of such a young soul craving for raw power. "Then I shall grant your desire, Vanille. Remember, once it is released, it cannot be lifted."
She bowed her head to the ground accepting the curse of evermore youth.