"Perhaps that's possible, seeing the school is huge," Mrs Dorothy said, her voice trailing off, eyes scanning the hallway as if already planning her escape from Mrs. Dorothy's gaze.
"Nice one, Shadely," Tracy whispered, her lips curling into a smirk, as her eyes flickered between Kamsi and the teacher, her breath barely a breeze as she leaned closer, her excitement barely contained.
Mrs. Dorothy's voice sliced through the air, sharp as a whip. "Now, go to your classes before I give you both detention!" Her stern gaze locked onto them, and the weight of it made their steps falter for a moment. Kamsi's hand shot out to grab Tracy's wrist, the swift movement conveying her irritation before she tugged her away, the rapid click of their shoes against the tiled floor echoing in the corridor as they hurried off, Mrs. Dorothy's glare burning into their backs.
—
Shadley took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling in time with his racing pulse. "Here goes nothing," he muttered, the words barely a whisper to himself, before he slid the bracelet onto his wrist. His fingers trembled slightly as the cool metal made contact with his skin. His eyes fluttered closed, and he tilted his head back, feeling the weight of the moment press down on him. "Let's see if this works." He braced himself for what was to come, the strange energy coursing through him as the bracelet seemed to hum with anticipation.
JANUARY 31, 2007…
Mr. Kendall stood close to Hayley, his hand resting on her shoulder in a comforting yet possessive gesture. His eyes softened, the faint lines around his mouth deepening as he looked at her, his voice hushed and careful. "Honey, I know it's tough, but everything is going to be okay. We can start a new life. You and I, and our little angel," he said, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. Hayley's smile was small but sincere, her gaze moving toward the bassinet where their one-month-old daughter slept, her tiny chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm.
"I hope we won't have to leave this place like the others," Hayley murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, laden with worry. "I just want our daughter to find a home here... to be safe."
FEBRUARY 12, 2008…
"Who's after you and our baby? Who?" Hayley's voice cracked, raw with fear and desperation, her hands trembling as she gripped Mr. Kendall's arm, her eyes wild. She shook him, pleading, but he looked away, his expression unreadable.
"I promise I'll tell you when the time is right," he said softly, but his words did little to quell the storm in her heart.
"When?" she demanded, her voice rising, her breath coming in shaky bursts. "When you're gone? Or when our baby is gone?" Her frustration mixed with a deep, gnawing fear, leaving her breathless as she stepped back, helpless against the confusion swirling between them.
FEBRUARY 16, 2008…
Kendall stood in the backyard, the shovel in his hands feeling heavier with each movement. He had promised Hayley he would tend to the garden, but the weight of the task felt small compared to the turmoil in his mind. The house was still in the early stages of renovation, and he knew it would take time to feel truly settled here. But as he dug into the soil, his shovel struck something solid, a dull thud that seemed out of place. He paused, brow furrowed, and continued digging, his heart picking up pace with each movement.
Finally, the object was revealed—an old, wooden coffin, half-buried in the earth. Kendall's breath caught in his throat, his hands shaking as he wiped away the dirt from the inscription on the lid: *Alessia Leonard: the greatest witch that ever lived. Rest in perfect blossom.* His chest tightened, disbelief and shock coursing through him like a cold wave. How could this be here?
He covered it back up quickly, but the unease remained, gnawing at him, refusing to let go.
The voices came soon after—soft whispers at first, almost inaudible. Then louder, more desperate: "Help me. Command me. Save me. Please... bring me back to life. My mission is unfinished."
Kendall's eyes widened, a chill creeping down his spine as the voices invaded his thoughts, taking root in his mind. Sleep became a distant memory, his nights restless and filled with the echoes of the dead.
One night, unable to ignore the rising dread any longer, he ventured outside, his heart racing. The full moon hung heavy in the sky, casting long shadows over the yard. The voice called to him, relentless.
"Who are you?" Kendall called into the night, his voice shaky but defiant.
"I am one with unfinished business," came the reply, eerie and commanding.
Kendall's pulse quickened. "How do I summon you?" he demanded, almost afraid of the answer, but needing it all the same.
"Go to your backyard," the voice instructed. "I will show you how to stop this."
Hesitant but compelled, Kendall walked to the spot where the coffin had been. He dug, his movements mechanical, until his shovel struck something solid once again. He uncovered an iron chest, shaped like a treasure chest but far older, more ominous. The voice was insistent.
"Open it."
The chest creaked open, revealing a spellbook, a knife, and a necklace. The air grew thick with an unnatural weight, and Kendall's hand trembled as he gathered the items, unsure of the consequences but too far gone to stop.
The voice commanded again. "Dig the same spot. Open the coffin."
Kendall obeyed, though his mind screamed at him to stop. He pried open the coffin and recoiled at the sight of the dried bones within. But the voice was unwavering.
"Close it. Now open the book."
Kendall's heart pounded as the pages of the spellbook flipped wildly, until they settled on a page titled Awakening the Dead.
He could hardly believe what he was reading. "Wait... are you trying to come back to life?" His voice was hoarse, fear creeping into his bones.
"Yes," the voice thundered, "and you, Kendall the great necromancer, will help me."
With a tremble, Kendall obeyed, cutting his wrist as directed. Blood dripped onto the pages, forming two intersecting triangles, one facing up, the other down. Lightning cracked across the sky, followed by a deafening thunderclap. The storm swirled into a frenzy as Kendall repeated the incantation, his voice shaking but resolute.
"Sikotheíte kai xypníste apó ton líthargo sas, zíste xaná..."
With each word, the air grew heavier, the ground beneath him trembling. The coffin shook, its contents shifting. Kendall opened it, and there, lying among the bones, was a woman. Her dark hair was styled in victory rolls, and as she slowly rose from the coffin, her gaze met Kendall's. She was unlike anything he had ever seen—stunningly beautiful, with a fierce confidence in her every movement.
"I am Alessia Leonard," she said, her voice dripping with power.
Kendall could do nothing but watch, mesmerized, as she approached him and planted a kiss on his lips. The world spun around him as the kiss deepened, her tongue stroking his, leaving him breathless and overwhelmed.
"Thank you," she whispered against his lips. "For bringing me back. For giving me a chance."
And with that, she turned away, her movements fluid, her body swaying hypnotically as she walked. Kendall stood frozen, his mind racing, unable to look away from the enchantment she left behind.
*March 18, 2008...*
"Alicia, you have to do this for me," Kendall insisted, his voice strained with urgency.
Alicia glanced at him, her expression cool but calculating. "Okay, Carl," she said, cradling their three-month-old baby in her arms. "But this will be the last thing I do for you." She closed her eyes, her lips parting as she began to chant softly.
"It is done," she said, her voice sharp.
Shadley's breath caught as the vision blurred, the images swirling before his eyes. His heart pounded in his chest as the sweat drenched his skin, the full weight of his newfound understanding crashing over him.
"But where are you now, Alicia Leonard?" he whispered to the silence around him, the haunting question lingering in the air.
—
Somewhere far away, a man sat on a throne of obsidian black, his red eyes glowing with an inner fire. His lips twisted into a smirk as the girl before him knelt, her gaze lowered in respect.
"My Lord," she whispered, "I think it's time."
He said nothing, but his smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with a dark promise. The storm had only just begun.