*Flashback : 1000 years Earlier*
A very dangerous and dark witch named Dahlia terrorized four human villages every full moon. And today was another full moon as she emerged from the shadows like death itself.
In the distance, the villages stood, and she watched them while licking her cracked lips. It was time, this was her night!
Dahlia silently entered the first village, her figure blending into the night. She was not spotted by any guard as she passed. She reached the first cottage, and with a wave of her hand, the door opened as if welcoming her in. Looking around, her eyes found a young girl, barely six years old, tucked beneath a soft blanket and with slow motion, Dahlia reached out her hand and whispered an incantation. “Somnus.”
The little girl’s breathing slowed as an unnatural sleep overtook her. She was already asleep but with the spell, it made her sleep deeper, almost to the point one would wonder if the little girl was still breathing.
“Sleep, little one,” Dahlia hissed. “You have done so well.”
House after house, village after village, Dahlia visited and from each home, a child was taken and floated silently behind her, their bodies limp. By the time she was done visiting all four villages, she had gotten enough children for the night. Her dark laughter echoed through the forest as she headed back to her home.
She didn’t stop at her home but led the way to her secret ritual site which was deeper in the woods. A stone altar stood there, carved with dark symbols and around it black candles which she lit with the snap of her fingers.
Afterward, she placed the children on the altar one by one, their small bodies laid out perfectly. Counting all the children, in total there were about eight children, two from each village. Sometimes she would take more and sometimes less, depending on her mood.
With everything now prepared, and the ground beneath the children etched with dark runes, Dahlia began to chant, causing the runes to glow faintly as the air grew thick with the stench of dark magic.
She stood before the altar, raising her arms to the night sky as she spoke, “Vexi moros, expergisci umbra… draconi nolite.”
As she chanted those words, the children who were still in their deep sleep began to stir as a faint light enveloped their bodies. With a wicked grin, Dahlia drew out a black dagger and sliced her palm. She let the blood from her palm drip onto the altar and onto each child.
Immediately the children’s eyes opened, but they were not truly awake as Dahlia drew their life force into herself. She could feel herself getting stronger, her skin smoother, and most importantly the increase in power she felt as she fed off their innocence to fuel herself.
When the last of the children’s energy seeped into her, she lowered her hands, feeling how everything worked its way into every single part of her body and how much she loved it. It was as if she and the power she felt were making love to each other, making her rub her hands all over her body while enjoying the feeling and biting her lips. “Mmmm…” She moaned out and laughed, “So good.”
The full moon was the source of her power and also her greatest weakness, with the curse it bestowed onto her. The curse left her vulnerable and weak on every full moon, but she had long found a way to cheat fate. When she found out that on every full moon she was not as powerful as before, and she was weak and vulnerable, she sought a way to keep herself strong. She could not let herself be weak, it could never happen. Never!
It was a cruel paradox. The children’s innocent life force drained to restore her strength, even keep her young, and renew her powers.
“Their lives for mine,” she whispered to herself, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. “A price I am more than willing to pay.”
With her powers renewed and with her feeling stronger, she turned her attention to the lifeless bodies of the children.
“They will not be found,” she murmured and stepped closer.
“Nai’threk cin’kirow,” she intoned, setting the bodies on fire.
“Rest now, little ones,” she crooned softly, almost feeling bad for them. “Your sacrifice is most appreciated. You all will be reborn in my power.”
With a satisfied glance, she turned away and left, heading back to her home.
Then the next day, as dawn broke over the villages, the cries began. Mothers ran out of their homes, calling their children’s names, father’s searching everywhere, hoping to find their sons and daughters. But they all knew the truth of what had actually happened, and it was not the first time children had vanished at night.
For years, they had lived with this silent terror, knowing deep down that it was the witch, Dahlia, who was stealing their young. Yet, they tried to stay positive and fight back, but no matter how many times they tried to confront her, they always failed. She was just too powerful to be stopped. Mere humans like them stood no chance against her.
“This has gone on long enough,” one of the leaders of one of the villages growled, slamming his fist onto the table. “We can’t keep letting her take our children!” He said to the remaining three leaders as they sat around a wooden table.
They had all called for a meeting to talk about the terror that never seemed to stop in their villages. It was just too much… too much pain and loss.
“But how can we stop her?” the second leader asked, his voice low and also filled with so much detest. “How do we stop a witch like her?”
“She is too powerful,” the third leader added, letting out a deep breath as his jaw clenched in anger. “We have tried before. What more can we do?”
“And we all know how it went the last time we stood against her,” the fourth leader cut in. “We can’t risk losing more lives to her wrath. And if we anger her…” he trailed off, fear visible in his tone. “We might not be able to stop the outcome.”
The leader who had spoken first stood up, his eyes burning with anger. “I understand all of your concerns, but this has to stop. We have to do something and I have a plan.”