A group of villagers moves cautiously through the dark forest, carrying torches that light up their uneasy faces. Wrapped tightly in their cloaks to guard against the night's chill, they clutch pitchforks, clubs, and whatever else they can grab at a moment's notice. Word of strange happenings in the village had stirred up their fears, and stories of the warlock had spread quickly, fueling their anger. As they press forward, the flames of their torches flicker against the trees, casting shadows that stretch and twist, mirroring their own dread as they close to William's home.
The light from William's house grew brighter as they encroached upon the residence. They began chanting the closer they got to their house.
"He must be killed."
"Bring him to us."
"He should be wiped off the face of the earth."
William's mother, Noelle had long sensed the rowdy group coming towards their home. beside her, her child was sound asleep innocence virtuallyspewing from his face.
"Don't worry, I'll always be here for you my little boy, always," she muttered. tears were forming in her eyes as she knew that she would have to part with her little boy soon enough.
The villagers press up to the house, their voices loud and harsh, cutting through the quiet and cold night. Torches wave in the air, flames flaring as they shout and call him out, each cry adding to the feverish energy pulsing through the crowd. Someone bangs on the old door with a stick, and another flings a rock that clinks off a window, breaking the dark silence around the crumbling house. Faces are tense and close, driven by fear and fury, with murmurs of curses and accusations spilling over as they wait, gripping their torches and each other's shoulders, unsure what might happen next.
Disturbed from his sleep, William awakens to see his mother walking towards the door. His mind is in a fuzzy haze, and he struggles to connect the dots. All he remembers is merrily playing with kids his age before the explosion occurred.
'Do they think that I was the one who blew up the park?' he thought to himself. "Mom, tell them that it was Granny Emma's house that blew up, simple isn't it."
Noelle nearly cried looking at her son smile and dismiss the severity of the matter with a simple smile. William only remembers her opening the door the rest was jumbled up in his mind.
The next memory that is vivid in his mind is that of his mother's limp body lying on a pool of her own crimson blood. He lost it seeing his only living guardian with a pitchfork deep inside her, her dead body limp on the ground.
His dark crimson eyes seemed to deepen with some sort of primal urge within him to eliminate anyone before him. The one who had impaled his mother felt his legs weaken at the sight of the enraged little boy
The whole village not just those who had come to William's home felt a dark pressure pressing on all of them making it difficult for them all to breathe.
They all regretted their actions immensely,"Wait wait it was an accident I swear." the man said as William began walking towards him he felt like pissing himself the pressure emanating from the little boy choked him his eyes were eerily glowing making him even more terrifying.
William heard their pleas loud and clear but he thought of how his mother tried to plea for his sake all for them to ignore her in the end, he wasn't benevolent enough to give mercy when none was provided to him.
Ste, step step. He walked calmly and slowly toward the people. The face of that weak six-year-old boy had disappeared like a phantom he was now out for blood after all bloodshed can only be paid with bloodshed. Those who felt their legs once more took to their heels trying their best to escape the little boy, their confidence shattered in the face of immense power.
In a fit of rage, he made one hand sign shooting his arms up to the sky.
A powerful, invisible force begins to tug at people, ripping through the calm with a terrifying intensity. Doors bang open as if torn by a hurricane, and people find themselves gripped by a pull they can't resist. They cling to door frames and stair rails, fingers white-knuckled and desperate, terror flooding their faces as they look at one another. They try to shout to loved ones, but their voices are caught in their throats as they feel themselves being dragged, inch by inch, away from everything solid and familiar.
Hands slip, feet lose their grip, and one by one, people are lifted from their homes, their eyes wide with horror. They're pulled out into the open air, bodies twisting and reaching for anything to hold onto. Neighbors try to grab each other, families cling together, desperate for connection and safety. But the force is too strong; it pries them apart, yanking them skyward, away from the ground they've known their entire lives.
As they rise higher, the streets and houses below shrink, becoming mere dots in a rapidly expanding sea of sky. Their fingers grasp at nothing but air, arms outstretched in vain as they drift farther and farther from their homes. Faces turned upward are filled with fear, confusion, and helplessness, their mouths open in silent screams. The cries of loved ones and friends are faint echoes, lost in the vastness of the sky.
In that surreal moment, the boundary between earth and sky blurs, and they are left suspended, weightless, looking down on everything they know from an impossible height, the world both near and heartbreakingly distant. No one not even a single person in a five mile radius was sparred from William's onslaught