Page 9 of I Will Always Find You
Suddenly, a horrid sound echoed into the night: a shrill, unearthly laughter.
The Romani witch turned his gaze in the direction of his prisoner.
“You think to bind me, heretic?!” the immortal raged. “I am beyond your understanding, exceeding the limitations of your witchcraft. I am more than flesh and blood!”
Before the Romani witch’s eyes, the immortal’s form began to lose its solidity, transforming into something diaphanous and ethereal. Wisps of shadow and light mingled around him, giving the fiend a spectral quality. Finally, like a whisper of smoke escaping into the night, the immortal soared beyond theconfines of the spell, slipping away as if he were never there at all.
Just like an apparition.
But the Romani witch was a quick thinker. One of the first acts of magic his grandmother ever taught him was the summoning, binding, and removal of spirits.
Hurriedly reaching into his satchel, he pulled out a small, rustic-looking bundle of dried white sage, a sacred herb for his people. The Romani witch had recently harvested it, and he knew that leaves gathered from late summer through early autumn yielded the most potent results.
Holding the bundle outward toward the misty apparition, the Romani witch whispered the Latin word for fire, “Ignis,” and the sage ignited. The flame was diminutive, just enough to approximate the force he used to conjure it. However, it created smoke, which was the primary goal.
“Spiritus discedit!” [“The spirit departs!”] Upon stating those words boldly, the Romani witch blew the sage smoke with all his might toward the apparition. “Begone, unnatural creature of shadow and fog!” He was uncertain if his spirit magic would affect an immortal, even in a ghostly form, but he needed to try.
After a few tense moments, the ethereal figure twisted its visage into a grotesque grimace, locking eyes with the spellcaster. Suddenly, with an intense shimmer, the apparition dissolved into thin air.
It worked! Praise to the ancestors. And to you, grandmother, for all your teachings.
However, the witch could already sense an ominous, dark force creeping close, the sinister aura of the immortal swelling and intensifying like a gathering storm.
Already returning to the physical realm? Stab your eyes, monster! How strong are you?
Turning his head to where he last saw Rufus, the Romani witch spotted him amid the smoke and confusion, frantically gathering the straggling, traumatized children who had lost their parents and were too frightened of the monster in their midst and the fire to flee into the forest.
It made the Romani witch’s heart swell with pride and adoration at how selfless, caring, and unafraid his beloved was. And it was all Rufus could do to help in the situation, anyway, for he had none of Aeneas’ mystic power. No matter how special he was to the Romani witch, he remained just a man.
“Rufus, get the children out of here,” the Romani witch commanded. “Take them and go now! I do not know how long I can hold back this—no, Rufus! Behind you! Behind you!”
But the warning came too late.
The ineffable, powerful fiend, having overpowered the Romani witch’s banishment spell, rematerialized behind Rufus with an eerie silence as if emerging from the very shadows of the grave itself. But that was not all; in a diabolical prelude, the formless figure had elongated his spectral arm through the unsuspecting young man’s chest with an insidious agenda. And as he resolidified before the stunned Romani witch’s eyes, the limb, like every part of the immortal’s body, became as solid as marble and nearly indestructible—and it tore Rufus’ torso apart, killing him instantly.
The event unfolded with a terrifying swiftness, leaving the Romani witch no time to act. He could only watch in horror as the malevolent immortal’s wicked deed took away what he cherished most in all the world. A feeling of infinite despair and ardent fury surged within him like a foul tempest as he conceded that his love had once again been ripped from his grasp by a monstrous, hateful, mocking foe, leaving his heart shattered and his spirit deeply wounded.
The Romani witch unleashed a haunting scream; it was a mournful cry filled with heartache and anguish that echoed throughout the dusky sky.
The immortal revelled in maniacal laughter, fully embracing the horror he had done. His black eyes and the upturned smirk upon his face showed nothing but abject derision of mortal life. He had enjoyed killing the Romani witch’s beloved. He enjoyed killing. He pulled Rufus’ dead body off his arm and tossed it aside like the core of an eaten apple, like unwanted detritus.
He then pursued the stragglers: the elderly, the weak, and the children still trying to escape into the forest. He completely ignored the tormented Romani witch, even as he relished the man’s suffering. He believed he had rendered the spellcaster impotent of further action, too crippled by despair; he intended to return for him later.
The fire continued to rage throughout the village; the air was heavy with cinders and soot.
As tears streamed down his ash-stained face, the Romani witch’s eyes became a haunting, spectral white. This was a sign that a witch had surrendered to the magic within, fully embracing the power of the emotional spectrum: sorrow, rage, and hate had consumed him.
The Romani witch let out another primal scream, but this time, the unrestrained howl was fueled purely by intense rage.
His Aeneas was dead once more, and he would make this monster pay.
He would make him burn!
The Romani witch stretched his arms out wide, making them as stiff as boards, and called out to the fire with his mind, heart and will. Tilting his head back, he chanted, “Ignis, veni ad me, ignis, veni ad me, ignis, veni ad me.” [“Fire, come to me.”]
With deft precision, he performed complex movements with his hands and fingers, weaving an elaborate series of arcanegestures. Each frenetic motion was imbued with passion and knowledge as he traced unseen sigils in the air, an intricate pattern of power waiting to be unleashed.
This was another of his grandmother’s powerful spells to control the elements, taught to him as a youth for protection or to inflict devastation, depending on the situation. Currently, it would be used for both, but mainly for the latter. The Romani witch’s fingers verily danced, imbued with magical energy, each fingertip alive and eager to summon an ancient elemental force’s wild and destructive power to him.
