Page 25 of My Dark Obsession

‘Sickness-Languor’

Cole

I should want her dead. The problem was, I didn’t, and the simple fact was, I was jealous.

Jealous of her Darkness, of how she simply accepted its coil of blackness like it was second nature.

I was jealous of the men that followed her around, of their freedom.

Of their ability to just accept her as their Mate.

I’d never felt so suffocated; I wished for death with every fibre of my being.

It would be better than the daily torture I endured to try and rid my soul of the black stain that tried to spread throughout my body with all its might.

Once when I was a boy, I embraced the sick and found joy in its void.

I was wrong.

I was weak .

He made sure I knew that.

I could never accept the sickness.

I laid down on the cold metal table as the straps tightened around my wrists, ankles and neck. The last one felt tight enough to almost cut my airways off. Almost.

The orange candlelight above me flickered as the clinking of tools met my ears. My breathing turned shaky as I shut my eyes. I hated this part. I hated it all. But this part particularly. I clenched my teeth as the sharp blade sliced into my stomach.

“I can sense it darkening within you my boy, its poisoning you.” I peeked open my eyes as a bloody pair of gloves placed the scalpel on the tray next to us.

The hand picked up a syringe full of clear liquid that filled me with nothing more than white hot pain before I disappeared into the cold darkness.

I squeezed my eyes back shut; I hated myself for opening them.

Hated myself for the poison running in my veins. I hated him for constantly trying to help rid it from me.

But most of all, I hated Amaya. Hated her for accepting her own poison whilst I writhed in its cold painful grasp. Begging for the warmth my White witch power should but never provides.

“We are going to have to double our efforts.” His voice made my stomach churn as he injected into my sliced abdomen.

Burning spread through my body, hitting every inch of my skin and each nerve with its fire.

White witches shouldn’t have this darkness, this poison, this illness.

That was why I hated Amaya. It didn't matter that my soul called to hers, that her big purple eyes held such pain that she tried to hide so obviously.

It didn't matter that my mark that I had hidden by a magic lotion, itched with the need to be in her presence.

I hated that her darkness coated her in the most glorious way, whereas mine smothered me.

Unbearable pain travelled across my body, burning me from the inside out. I hated that it was her face that flashed across my mind before I blacked out.

The darkness sickened me.

I hated her.

Twenty

‘Secrets And Lies-Occulta Et Mendacium’

Amaya

I stared at the painting of Lady Samara, her cold expression forever frozen in place. What had put that empty look in her eyes? What had caused her final portrait to be painted in such coldness? Was she simply born with the emptiness as I was?

Was I born with the emptiness? Or had it simply started in the human realm?

There were so many questions, and I simply couldn’t stand not knowing the answers anymore.

I left the portrait and went in search of Jerry.

He usually greeted me the moment I stepped foot in the castle, but after Rí had flown off to fix the mess we had left the bar in, I entered a silent empty foyer .

Instead of going down the darkened steps to my room, I veered right and walked down a dimly lit corridor.

More paintings lined the walls, and floating candles dripped their wax onto the pristine stone floor and the black runner.

I turned so many corners I was pretty sure I had gotten myself lost before a curved stairway suddenly lit up with more dripping candles.

“How daunting,” I grinned as I ran my hand along the dried wax on the walls.

I came to a circular room, full of glass cabinets and sturdy shelving that curved with the walls, each one containing objects I couldn’t even identify.

Glass jars were filled with liquid and what looked like fingers and tongues floating about.

I raised my brows as I moved through the room.

In the centre stood a lantern holding an opened book.

Its thick cream pages were filled with drawings, detailed descriptions of spells, amongst so much more that I could barely understand.

I closed the book searching for a title but all it read was ‘ Sub Silentio Custodire’.

To Keep under Silence. Just like the front door. But why? What needed to be kept in silence? Was this what witches called a Grimoire? Was I holding the very thing that guided all the Dark Witches before me?

I carefully opened the book and turned the first page and read aloud “ Acceptance is key. Embrace it.”

“Lady Amaya.” I jumped and slammed the book shut before spinning around to stare wide-eyed and guilty at the ghost. He stood with his hands behind his back by the stairway and his dress shoes shining in the candlelight.

“I wasn’t snooping. ”

I was a liar. I absolutely was snooping.

“You cannot snoop in things that now belong to you.”

Right, of course. The castle was mine. I picked up the book and held it close to my chest. This book was important. I could feel it. The buzz in my veins and the vibrations in my chest were reacting to it somehow.

“In that case, I think I’ll take this to my room.” I stepped towards the stairs when the book whipped from my hands and landed back onto its stand.

“The Dark Grimoire tends to like it down here My Lady.”

Sighing I nodded and left the little circle room, but not before grabbing myself a glass of floating tongues and the promise to come back and read the entire Grimoire.

Grinning at my little gift to myself, I made my way to my room and asked Jerry who glided beside me. “I need to harness my magic. How? If I was born a Pure-blooded Dark Witch, how can I not simply just use it? Shouldn’t it be second nature by now?”

We only walked down one corridor and took one corner before we were back at the foyer. I frowned in confusion at the corridor. Why the fuck did it take me so long to get there?

I sat on the big bed and noticed Ravioli watching me from his new perch. His beady eyes tracked my movements as I shuffled to get comfy.

“You will understand all eventually My Lady. I cannot give you the answers. Part of being a Dark Witch is figuring out the secrets to simply being a Dark Witch.” He lifted the duvet and folded it over before laying a set of silk pyjamas next to me.

I changed without a thought. The silky material glided across my still sensitive skin.

I sat back against the thick pillows and the ghost tucked me in the bed like a child, patting the sides down smoothly before a steaming cup of what smelled like sweet tea appeared in his hand.

The man spoke in damn riddles. And why was he putting me to bed? I frowned and was about to ask just that when he suddenly beamed at me, his eyes shining down at me behind his little spectacles. “Oh! And a congratulations on your first Mating! I assume Lord Rí will be back shortly?”

Lord Rí? “Uh, yeah,” I muttered, still slightly confused with what was happening.

He nodded and finished with his fussing and said, “now drink the tea. You have a visitor in the morning I believe? I’ll make sure to have some tea and perhaps coffee made for you both.”

“What?” I was so fucking confused.

“Bri, My Lady, her note? I gave it to Ravioli to bring to you. The Mountain will allow her entry if you truly desire it,” and with a poof he was gone, leaving me with more questions than before and utterly dumbfounded to what just happened.

I just got tucked into bed by a ghost. Shaking my head I bent down, lifted the mattress and pulled the two books I had hid there.

So if I truly desired the person to enter, the Mountain would allow it? Was the mountain somehow connected to me? I looked at the books in my hands and decided the only way for me to get answers was to find them myself. Opening the book on Circle Mates I began to read.

‘The Fates Above created the link between soul-bonded Mates when the first supernatural felt the loneliness of life.

After millennia alone, the tears of the supernatural created a river, and in this river swam the need and wants of a lonely soul.

The cries caused the river to overflow, and the Fates Above decided for the first time in their creation, that it was time to intervene.

They wanted the supernatural to have someone to spend their immortal life with, someone well matched with similar wants and needs.

In their search for this match, they delved deep into the soul of the lonely supernatural.

At first, they were unsuccessful, which angered the Fates Above and caused them to argue. They had different ideas as to what would help the supernatural and so they split the soul, each taking their own ideas and separated into separate realms.

The lonely supernatural drifted through their life, ever lonely and spilling tears, creating a great sea, an ocean full of magic and life.

It was only when the supernatural gave up, and succumbed to the sea did they find that, their split soul belonged to another being or beings .

A being that brought them joy, love and laughter. A new meaning to their long life.

This being made them whole, a circle of souls that belonged together.

Each one would eventually connect. Perfect for each other.

Never alone and bound together by the circle of their soul.

Mated for life.

And so the Fates Above decided each supernatural should have their souls split upon creation, so that they would eventually find their other half’s and connect as one full circle. With one part of the soul being the link to connect them all together, like a puzzle.