In a building where shadows once reigned, a witch named Soumi seethed with growing resentment. Before Elaïa's birth, Soumi had planned to curse the unborn child, her hatred fueled by the mere presence of the girl's parents—the Lennoxes—who had brought unwanted light to her domain of darkness.
The Lennoxes possessed an extraordinary quality that made them impossible to hate, except by those who cherished misery itself. Mr. Lennox could be found most evenings with his toolbox in hand, whistling as he fixed a neighbor's leaking faucet or a broken doorknob, waving away all offers of payment with a warm smile. Mrs. Lennox filled the building's corridors with the aroma of freshly baked cookies and hearty stews, always ensuring that elderly Mrs. Thompson on the third floor had a hot meal, or that the struggling college students next door had enough leftovers to last the week.
Before their arrival, Soumi had thrived on the building's misery. She drew her power from bitter arguments echoing through thin walls and the quiet sobs of lonely tenants. But the Lennoxes' presence acted like sunshine breaking through storm clouds, and suddenly, her spells began to falter. Each curse she cast boomeranged back within days, weakened by the couple's natural aura of joy. When she spotted Mrs. Lennox's growing belly one morning, Soumi knew she had to act—she couldn't bear the thought of another source of light in her carefully cultivated darkness.
Desperate, Soumi journeyed to a remote village where her mentor, The Black Witch of Amora, lived with her disciples. The cave where her master taught the dark arts appeared deserted when she arrived, her calls echoing unanswered through empty chambers. Only a slight movement—a dusty blanket stirring beside a dried riverbed—caught her attention.
Beneath the blanket, she found her once-powerful mentor lying frail and weakened, the intricate tattoos on her face standing stark against her pale skin. "I am starving," her master whispered hoarsely. "I am thirsty."
Soumi's hand instinctively moved to her travel bag, but stopped. She had packed just enough for her return journey. Without a word, she turned away, ignoring her mentor's strengthening calls. As she hurried back toward the trail, a firm hand grasped her shoulder. Her master stood before her, tall and powerful as ever, the dried riverbed behind them now rushing with water.
Inside the cave's red-carpeted tent, her master's disappointment hung heavy in the air. "I never thought you would be the one to let me die alone," the Black Witch of Amora said softly. "All my disciples have passed this test. What happened to you, Soumi?"
The master's dark eyes pierced through Soumi's soul, finding nothing but emptiness. "What have you accomplished? Where are your riches? Where did all my teachings go?"
"I am just unlucky," Soumi spat bitterly. "Nothing good ever happens to me."
"How come?"
"I must be cursed."
"Aren't you the one doing the cursing?" her master countered. "You've let your dark side dictate your life instead of commanding it."
"I tried," Soumi protested, "but this couple moved in, and their light is blinding me. I no longer hold any power inside."
"What do you want me to do?"
"I want to curse them."
"What are you gaining from cursing them?"
"I am sick and tired of all the happiness around me," Soumi's voice cracked with rage. "I want people to suffer like I suffered."
The Black Witch of Amora bowed her head, her heart heavy with the realization that her former student had lost her way. Even in the darkest magic, there were rules and purposes—contracts between power and intent. But Soumi had fallen into the trap of wanting nothing but destruction, her own bitterness aging her far beyond her forty years. The master knew there was only one path forward.
"Stay with me," she offered gently. "Let's heal before we do bad things for our own benefit. Even the darkest magic requires balance, Soumi. You've forgotten that. »
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