Page 9 of Dark Desire (Dark Souls Spin-off Short Story)

Chapter Five

B eacons lit the narrow streets throughout the town, illuminating the beautiful greenery, flowers, and flags that zig-zagged from building to building, creating an enchanting backdrop to the celebrations.

Shoulder-to-shoulder with spectators, I could hardly move of my own free will and instead found myself pushed and pulled along with the torch-lit procession.

Most of the locals were dressed in traditional, elaborate masks of animal skulls, others as evil, devil-like creatures, and a few in pretty Venetian styles.

The sound of excitement and laughter crackled in the air, floating above the music as we followed behind the locals who were taking part in the Cornish guise dancing towards the port.

I had to hand it to St Wythren. They knew how to throw a party.

“Are you sure you want to be here?” Evie shouted in my ear, stumbling slightly when someone pushed her forward. “I know today has been stressful. I wouldn’t mind if you decided to stay in with a glass of wine and watch trashy soaps with me instead.”

I smiled, my eyes lifting towards the low-hanging full moon that shimmered over the bay. “No. This is a perfect distraction.”

I still couldn’t understand what had happened to that fae’s body.

I half-hoped he had somehow survived and dug himself out because the alternative was far worse.

That someone knew I buried him there and was messing with me, trying to frame me.

I suspected the little old woman who hated my guts, but there was no way she could have moved the body herself.

And if they were trying to get me arrested, why not just call the cops and tell them I killed a man and buried him in that grave? It didn’t make any sense.

A shiver ran down my spine. I turned my head from left to right, feeling that all-too-familiar sensation that I was being watched.

There were so many people out tonight, most in disguise, that even if I was being watched, I’d never find them.

I exhaled deeply and forced my shoulders back.

I reminded myself that I was no longer scared.

I could handle myself. I’d given up running and accepted my fate.

Just not yet. I had to survive a little longer.

If everything went to plan tonight, then they could come for me whenever they fucking liked, and I wouldn’t even put up a fight anymore.

We reached the walled port, and right at the end was a huge bonfire, the orange flames raging high against the black night.

Evie tugged me through the crowd towards the front, where a stage had been set up for the performers, and my heart galloped in my chest as I felt the heat of those flames licking at my skin.

Fixating on the fire, I fell into a daze, reliving terrifying memories that suddenly fluttered through my mind—of a creature, unlike anything I had ever seen, being magically bound to a burning cottage.

I could still hear his deafening roars through razor-sharp fangs as black flames climbed his body.

I gulped, blinking rapidly, and pulled myself back to the present.

A man wearing a dark brown robe and a white mask stepped onto the stage, causing the audience to fall silent.

“Welcome, residents of St Wythren’s Cove.

Tonight, on this winter solstice, we rid ourselves of our sins, evil, and the shadows of our darkest night.

When this night is over, it marks a new beginning.

A blessing to us all.” The man’s captivating voice boomed through the air and everyone cheered.

I glanced around, my eyes still searching, but for what, I wasn’t sure.

At some point, I would need to pick my moment to slip away.

It was unfortunate that I had to stay at Evie’s place tonight and would have to lose her in the crowds so I could disappear to conduct my spell.

But failing tonight was out of the question.

Determination powered through me and caused me to stand straighter.

“Now, we have a reenactment of the witches’ fall from the wonderful Yule Acting Company. They would love for you to join in with the play by being a participating audience. Placards are being handed out if you wish to join the witch hunt.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat when I saw the handwritten signs being passed around the crowd, with bold, red lettering set against the white card, making the words glare in the dim lighting.

An uneasy feeling swelled in my gut and I squeezed my hands into fists as I tried to stay calm and keep my attention on the stage.

It was a surreal experience to be a witch about to watch a reenactment of my kind’s cruel fate.

The man continued, “In 1563, St Wythren’s Cove was alive with magic. Not the pretty, picturesque scenery we have today but a different kind of magic. Witchcraft!”

Six women entered the stage wearing white sheets and crowns of twigs and leaves. I stared at their faces as they twirled around the bonfire with theatrical movements, chanting softly.

The town was under the control of witches, hiding in plain sight.

To the ordinary eye, they looked like everyone else, but they harboured a dark, twisted secret.

The magic they wielded was malevolent. They preyed on the vulnerable and weak, and every year on the night of the solstice, they performed a human sacrifice to gain more power. ”

As he spoke, the women acted like evil sorceresses, tugging a man into the middle of their circle and pretending to slit his throat. Evie grumbled next to me about how inappropriate that was, seeing as there were a few children present. I didn’t disagree.

"But the world was waking up to the evil lurking in the shadows. Witchcraft became a capital offence, and the penalty was death.” Suddenly, men and women dressed in 16th-century clothes stormed onto the stage with pitchforks, grabbing the women, resulting in a dramatic struggle.

Each woman was tied to a wooden post, their head tilted back as they looked up at the sky while men lit a fake fire around their feet.

The paper flames flickered around their bodies in the breeze.

My pulse quickened. “Legends say that one witch even escaped her fate, vanishing behind the flames by magic.”

A sudden throb in my temple flared up, and I struck it with my hand, scrunching my face in pain as my vision blurred.

No. No. No. This couldn’t be happening. Not tonight.

“Darcie? Are you okay?” Evie asked with concern.

I forced my eyes open wide. Everything swayed.

Elaborate masks shifted and distorted. Flames roared in my ears against the screams of the women on stage.

A cold sweat broke out across my skin as I stumbled backwards into the crowd.

Hands supported me to stay upright, but I couldn’t tell who they belonged to.

The sounds merged into one persistent, ear-splitting white noise.

I spun around, trying to escape the mass of bodies as I felt heat rising and my breathing came out in harsh pants.

“Darcie! Where are you going? Wait!” I heard Evie’s fading voice behind me, but I couldn’t focus on it. I just needed to get away before it happened. I needed to get to the moors. I slammed into bodies, being flung back with every few steps forward. Placards swayed above everyone’s heads.

Burn the witch.

Murderer.

You’ll pay for your sins.

I know what you did.

I stopped fighting my way through when my eyes landed on that last one. Mainly because of who was holding it. Beryl.

The old woman was staring at me from the side of the road, with the same sadistic grin on her face as she raised the placard higher with both hands.

I know what you did.

I couldn’t breathe. I needed to reach the moors. It was the only thought I had. I started to run, pushing past people walking in only one direction as I hurried towards the back of the village. As soon as I reached the gate, I paused and looked back to check I was alone.

Hairs on the back of my neck stood on end when I saw a large, dark figure leaning against a lamppost. Wearing all black and one of those sinister-looking devil masks beneath his hood, he epitomised malevolence. My heart pounded and all colour drained from my face.

Shit. They’d sent another one already?

The terrifying man tilted his head to the side in an eerily menacing gesture, causing me to let out a small whimper. This couldn’t be happening. Not tonight. My temple throbbed again, reminding me I had a more pressing matter to worry about than some masked assassin before I squeezed my eyes shut.

Not tonight, freaky dude. I am not dying tonight.

Opening my eyes, I cast one last glance at him as he took a large step onto the road, then I ran.

I didn’t dare look back as I stumbled my way up the hill towards the trees.

Was it a bad idea to run into the woods while a masked man chased me?

Of course it was. I wasn’t an idiot. But I really didn’t have any other choice.

I had to reach the spell circle I’d set up.

When I got to the trees, I glanced over my shoulder.

He was following, striding up the hill at a leisurely pace, as if he knew I could never outrun him.

He must be supernatural, but from this distance I couldn’t tell what he was, and he wasn’t giving anything away.

My heart pounded and another wave of pain hit my temple, causing me to lean against a tree for support before I managed to straighten up.

Come on, Darcie. Focus. You can fight it a little longer.

As soon as I reached the spell circle I had hidden deep in the thick woodland, I snapped my fingers to light all the black pillar candles and began to draw the demonic symbols into the dirt.

The book I had borrowed (because I fully intended to return it) from the old witch museum in town flicked open at my command and fell to the page I needed. A summoning curse.

Adrenaline coursed through me, knowing I didn’t have time to do this the way I would have liked.

Casting this spell was now a race against my impending doom.

I grabbed my knife from my handbag and quickly sliced the palm of my hand, chanting the forbidden spell to call to the Underworld.

A twig snapped under a heavy boot somewhere behind me, and I spun around to see his dark figure approaching.

I couldn’t defend myself once my spell was in full use, so having no choice, I had to stop my spell and send a powerful ball of dark energy in his direction.

His body moved faster than any human’s and dodged it easily. Fuck.

A dark chuckle echoed through the trees, the sound so wicked and strangely intriguing. My heart flipped as my eyes searched the darkness for him. He was relishing this. But I really didn’t have fucking time for this shit.

“Look. I know why you’re here!” I shouted into the dark forest. Another twig snapped to my left, closer this time. “But please, come back and kill me tomorrow. I really, really have important shit to–ahhh!”

I fell forward as a sharp pain spiked through my temple and made me grit my teeth.

I slammed my bloody hand into the dirt, fisting the leaves and mud.

I was running out of time. It was going to happen, and I couldn’t stop it.

Frustrated tears sprang from my eyes as I fought against the magic within me.

The magic that had always controlled me.

“Please, I call upon my sisters. I call upon the fallen witches of St Wythren’s, hear my plea and bind me to your powers.

Seek my–ahhhh!” Another agonising pain shot through my entire body, and I reached for my knife in the dirt just as I felt the vibrations of footsteps slowly approaching behind me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, realising it was no use.

Either I continued my pointless fight against my own power and that man would kill me before I completed the summoning spell, or I give in and let my magic take me.

At least then, I’d still have time to try again.

And I had to try again. I had to put things right.

With a tortured cry, I reached for my bag, my knife still in my other hand, and rolled onto my back just as the gigantic figure of the man loomed over me.

The last thing I saw before the world spun out of focus was the prettiest green eyes full of hatred glaring down at me from behind that terrifying mask.