SpellBound UNFINISHED AND ONHOLD

Prologue

*TWO YEARS AGO*

The house was in an isolated area. It seemed like a good idea to them when they had bought it. Secluded. Protected. But what was to protect them if their troubles ever found it's way inside?

That had always been their problem from the beggining.

They never asked for help. They never considered that maybe, just maybe, the outside world could spill into their lives to help them when they needed it most. But they were we Witches. Do it ourselves, ,rotect our own, fight alone types of Witches.

And that was the Death of them. Maybe if they learned to adapt and change with the times, they would've survived the changes. But they locked themselves up in this huge house, so far away from civilization.

Selene should've known that the big bag dangers of their world would soon come knocking on their door. Yet, it was still a surprise to them when they returned home to see the walls dripping with the grotesque painting of death.

Splatters of blood tarnished the walls. It trailed up the wooden staircase and she followed. Selene Chamberlaigne pushed open the attic door, the blood smearing on her cold hands as the turned the handle.

A small sob escaped as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Men and women, yound and old, were laid across the wooden floors, forming a circle. They were cold to the touch. Their skin had lost it's lively color. Their postures were stiff and their positions were slack.

Selene knew it then. She knew that the evil had found them again. It terrified her that the people they had taken under their wing had the ability to turn and stab them in the back...in quite the literal sense as well.

She heard the door open from downstairs. The chaos of laughter and happiness immediately ceased and she knew that the children had seen the red that paints their home. Selene heard the clamoring footsteps against the hard wood before Annabelle burst through the door like a ball of flame with worry and fear radiating off of her.

The rain that had abruptly begun outside was only a steady drip until her eyes met Michael's body, sprawled and weakened in the center of the house. Annabelle rushed forward, gathering him in her arms as she cried over him.

She begged and pleaded with her mother to save him. She asked him to hold on. She screamed for help and called to the Goddess. She called to the Gods of the world, but no rescue came.

Nothing happened as they all fell into the arms of Death, one by one.

Michael was the last. He still held her hand and gazed in her eyes as her vision blurred with tears. He was growing heavier in her arms as his resolve to live began to fade and even as Christopher approached to take him from her, she clung on to his body. His last words to her echoed in her mind.

He had said those words. The words that they had always been told to be careful with because words held more meaning than anything else. Actions and intentions could be misread, but words as simple as day and night were easy to understand. They were the first words of a mother to a child. They were welcoming words and parting goodbyes.

He said, "I love you." Finally, for all the years that she has waited, he chose to say it now that she could never have him again.

Even as he said it, a tear escaped him and his breath was almost nonexistent. The life in his eyes were dulling and the grip of his hand on hers, her last life line to that piece of her heart, was slipping. And then he died.

Annabelle sat there for hours, just holding his hand. She willed him to come back, but nothing. The power of wills was nothing compared to the pull of Death. So she stood and left.

She was guided away from the house and they never looked back. That was the day that their lives changed as they all split ways. Annabelle, her mother, and her sisters fleed. Amara remained to care for house and erase the memories of so many in the town. Christopher was not heard from for a long time, but he was there. He watched them all walk away.

That day, hope was lost. But hope was what they needed most to move on and win the beginning war. They had turned and retreated from this battle, but it was far from over. They still had a lot to do, but they will succeed.

Michael knew this. He knew the time will come and things had to happen the way they did if therewas ever a chance for the world to be saved. He knew Annabelle would be alright and her heart would find a way to mend itself, with the help of another of course. For now...they just had to wait for the right time.