Bethany 
Years passed as Edward learned the dark arts of witchcraft and shadows. Step by step he conquered power and claimed the world of shadows. The night of his first ritual remained etched into his mind like a scar. A mark that he would carry all his life. He had grown both in stature and knowledge. By the time he was thirteen, the whispers had become more than voices in the dark. They were guides, teachers, and unseen mentors who carried him deeper into the currents of hidden knowledge.
By the time he was thirteen, the whispers had become more than voices in the dark. They were guides, teachers, and unseen mentors who carried him deeper into the currents of hidden knowledge. He studied ceaselessly, devouring, devouring every scrap of occult wisdom he could find, both in his father’s library and beyond. One evening, just after twilight, Edward ventured beyond the walls of his family home. He had overheard the town’s whispers- rumors of a haunted ruin on the outskirts of Leamington Spa, an abandoned chapel swallowed by ivy and time. Local avoided it, claiming that
One evening, just after twilight, Edward ventured beyond the walls of his family home. He had overheard the town’s whispers—rumors of a haunted ruin on the outskirts of Leamington Spa, an abandoned chapel swallowed by ivy and time. Locals avoided it, claiming that strange lights flickered behind its shattered stained-glass windows and that whispers echoed from its walls even when no one stood inside.
Edward knew it was the perfect place.
A storm threatened overhead, clouds churning like a restless sea, the air thick with the promise of rain. As he approached the crumbling chapel, a strange sensation prickled his skin—something unseen pulsed from within the ruins, something ancient. He grinned. He wasn’t afraid.
Stepping over the threshold, he ran his fingers along the cold stone walls, feeling the weight of forgotten prayers still clinging to them. The wind howled through the broken windows, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and decay.
Perfect.
He knelt in the center of the chapel, drawing a circle into the dust-covered floor. He had learned much since his first experiment. He knew that power was not in words alone—it was in will. He had to command it.
He placed a small candle at the edge of the circle, lighting it with a steady hand. The flame flickered violently, though no wind reached it. The atmosphere shifted, thickening like the moments before a thunderclap.
Then, he began to chant.
The words were older than the church itself, older than the land it stood upon. They rolled from his tongue with unnatural ease, filling the space with a vibration that hummed in his very bones.
The air grew colder.
The candle’s flame twisted, stretching into something unnatural. Shadows pooled in the corners of the chapel, no longer cast by light, but moving with a will of their own.
Edward felt the shift in reality—the boundary thinning, something unseen pressing against the veil. His pulse quickened, but he did not falter. This was what he had trained for.
“Who calls?”
The voice slithered through the darkness, deeper than the one he had spoken to years ago. It carried weight and presence. Edward swallowed his excitement, keeping his breath steady.
“I do,” he said firmly.
A chuckle—low, reverberating, crawling beneath his skin.
“A child with power. A rare thing. But power is nothing without will. What is it you seek?”
Edward hesitated for only a moment. He had considered this carefully—he knew the dangers of asking too much, too soon.
“Knowledge.”
The shadows stirred. The presence felt amused.
“Knowledge is not given, it is taken. Show me your will.”
A gust of wind howled through the chapel, extinguishing the candle. The darkness closed in, thick and suffocating. Edward clenched his fists. This was the test. He had to push back.
He inhaled deeply and focused. The knowledge he had gained—the symbols, the chants, the force of his own presence—he drew it all inward and then pushed.
The darkness recoiled, shuddering at the force of his will. The candle reignited—not from a match, but from his command.
The presence hissed.
“Impressive.”
Edward smirked. “You doubted me?”
A pause. Then, the shadows pulsed. A single, glowing symbol appeared on the floor before him, burned into the dust like a brand. It shimmered briefly before fading, but its meaning burned in his mind.
A lesson. A key.
“You have taken your first step. But power demands a price. Be careful what you seek.”
The air lightened. The presence faded. The storm outside broke, rain hammering against the ruined walls. Edward exhaled, his hands shaking slightly.
He had done it.
Stepping outside, he tilted his face to the sky, letting the rain wash over him. He felt…changed. Stronger. More in control.
But deep in his mind, the warning lingered.
“Power demands a price.”
He smirked. Let it.
In the next episode, he will be transcending magic and the art of occultry.
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