The sun dipped behind the horizon, casting a golden hue over the city of Edinburgh, a jewel nestled in the heart of Scotland. Atop a secluded hill on the city's outskirts, Abigail stood motionless, her gaze fixed upon the grand duplex before her—a towering monument to the wealth and influence of the MacLeod family. A slow, satisfied smile spread across her lips. After tonight, she would finally feel fulfilled.
What would it be like to erase her enemy's household from existence? To wipe away every trace that reminded her of Lamia? That son of a bitch had ruined her life—stolen her joy, seized everything that should have been hers. But tonight, it would all come to an end. That wretched woman, Catherine, would be gutted before her very eyes, her remains offered to the ravens. This would be Abigail's moment of glory. The heads of Catherine's children would serve as trophies for her victory, and she would revel in the look of sheer agony on Hadrain's face when he saw his offspring's lifeless forms.
With a swift flick of her fingers, she vanished and reappeared at the entrance of the estate. Instantly, the rich fragrance of Maxandra's garden greeted her, a blend of roses and sunflowers blooming in their full splendor. She was about to step forward when an invisible force slammed into her, stopping her in her tracks. A sharp pain tore through her skull, a sudden and brutal migraine wracking her senses.
Abigail scowled. Of course, they were supernaturals—why wouldn't they have a protective barrier shielding their home from evil? And evil was precisely what she had become, thanks to Lamia.
"Mommy! Mommy! Come pluck the flower for me!"
A sweet, childlike voice rang through the garden, and Abigail's breath hitched. A little girl—no older than three, perhaps even two—stood among the flowers, the embodiment of innocence and beauty. She had inherited her father's fiery red hair and midnight blue eyes, set against a pale, ethereal face that gave her an almost divine presence. Her lips, so vibrantly red, put even the roses to shame. There was no doubt—she would be a heartbreaker one day, a girl with countless admirers and just as many shattered hearts in her wake.
For a fleeting moment, Abigail was lost, mesmerized by the angelic child before her. Lamia was indeed lucky. He had the perfect family—everything anyone could ever desire. And here she was, drowning in hatred and sorrow.
At that moment, the little girl looked up and smiled.
"Granny, look at that beautiful woman! She's smiling at me!" Jasmine pointed excitedly at Abigail.
Maxandra, who had been tending to the garden, looked up instantly, but her aged eyes found nothing. She turned, scanning the area, but the space was empty.
"Oh, Jasmine, there's nothing there—just vines and old logs," Maxandra said dismissively, stroking the child's cheek as she continued plucking sunflowers to replace the withered ones in the sitting room.
But Jasmine didn't turn away. Her gaze remained locked on Abigail, her smile unwavering. Unbeknownst to her, she was smiling at the very nightmare that threatened to destroy them.
"Cute darling, will you be a dear and let me in?" Abigail cooed, but realization struck her. Jasmine was merely a child. Even if she invited her inside, the spell wouldn't break—after all, the girl wasn't the one who had cast the barrier.
"Come on, Jasmine. I'm done here. Let's go see what your mother is making for dinner," Maxandra said, lifting the girl into her arms and heading back toward the house.
Abigail laughed darkly. What a joke. Here she was, admiring the creation of her enemy. No—no, they would all burn before her.
She stepped aside, lips moving as she chanted an ancient spell, one whispered to her by the dead witches. The barrier shattered, its very foundation uprooted, sending tremors through the estate.
Catherine, feeling the faint quake beneath her feet, rushed out. Dressed in a refined linen gown and elegant heels, she had been preparing to attend a royal gathering at the palace in Lamia's absence. But as she stepped outside, an uneasy sensation washed over her. Was this an omen? A warning not to attend the event? She had gone to countless gatherings before without issue—so why did tonight feel different?
Her eyes scanned the estate. At first, she saw nothing amiss, but then her gaze fell upon the entrance. The herbal plants Lamia had meticulously placed as protective wards had been violently uprooted, their remnants scattered like corpses.
Catherine's breath hitched. Her eyes widened, refusing to blink.
Was there… an intruder?
Panic surged through her veins as she sprinted toward her mother-in-law's chambers—only to find the room empty.
"Mom? Mom!" Catherine's frantic voice echoed through the halls as she ran like a woman possessed. "Julian! Jasmine! My darlings, where are you? Mom, are you here? If you're safe, call out to me!"
Her desperate search led her down countless corridors, past room after room, but all she was met with was silence. A deafening, unnatural silence. No. No, this couldn't be happening.
Then, a chilling laugh drifted from the kitchen, sending shivers crawling up her spine.
Turning to the wall, Catherine's fingers found the handle of an axe. She would not hesitate to slaughter whoever dared harm her family.
Moving stealthily into the sitting room, she found no one in sight. Her demonic senses heightened, her beautiful brown eyes darkened into crimson. Every fiber of her being screamed to attack, to tear the intruder apart. But then—she froze.
There, in the center of the room, stood her little Julian.
A knife pressed against his delicate throat, his innocent eyes glimmering with an eerie blankness, as though this were all some twisted game.
Catherine's heart stopped.
"NO! Julian, baby, put that knife down! It's dangerous!" Her voice cracked, raw with terror.
And then—she saw her.
Abigail.
Grinning wickedly, twirling a dagger between her fingers.
Behind her, Maxandra sat bound and gagged, chained mercilessly to a chair, her helpless eyes brimming with terror.
"Oh, Abigail, you're back! Please, I know we wronged you, but they are innocent. Don't take your hatred out on them," Catherine pleaded, her heart shattering with each word. Her children were her world—if anything happened to them, she would cease to exist. There would be no redemption, no coming back from such devastation.
"Where is Jasmine? What have you done to Julian? Let him go! He's just a child!" Catherine begged desperately.
At that moment, something small fell to the floor.
Catherine gasped.
Jasmine.
"Baby! Are you hurt? Tell Mama if you're hurt!" Catherine knelt, frantically inspecting her daughter.
Jasmine only whimpered. "Mommy, why is Julian holding that knife? And who is that lady?"
Catherine was about to answer, but then a violent gust of wind lifted Jasmine off the ground, pinning her against the wall. Knives of varying sizes surrounded her, spinning dangerously close to her face.
Catherine screamed, her mind unraveling at the sight of her daughter held hostage.
Abigail let out a low, menacing chuckle.
"Julian, darling, be a good boy and stab your dear old granny in the throat," she cooed, her sadistic grin widening as Julian's lifeless eyes darkened.
"No! Abigail, stop! You'll destroy him forever!"
Before Catherine could react, Abigail conjured a raging fire that engulfed her, her agonized screams filling the room.
Julian, still entranced, raised the knife to Maxandra's throat.
Maxandra sobbed.
"Julian, sweetheart, remember me. I'm your granny. Remember our games…"
"Enough, old hag! Julian—do it!"
Catherine's charred body trembled as the excruciating pain of her healing process surged through her. Her flesh, burnt beyond recognition, slowly began to regenerate, her scorched skin knitting itself back together in agonizing waves. The stench of seared flesh filled the air, but the agony in her heart was far worse than the pain ravaging her body.
Her vision, blurred by suffering, focused on Julian—the little boy she had sworn to protect—now standing like a puppet, a gleaming knife pressed against Maxandra throat. His tiny fingers trembled as he gripped the blade, his innocent eyes void of recognition, clouded by an unnatural darkness. Abigail stood a few feet away, her lips curled into a sinister grin, relishing the sight of Catherine's despair.
"Noooooo!" Catherine's voice tore through the room like a thunderclap. With every ounce of her remaining strength, she thrust her hands forward, summoning a powerful gust of wind. It surged toward Julian with explosive force, knocking him backward and sending him crashing onto the cold, marble floor. His small frame lay motionless, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, unconscious from the impact.
Catherine's heart wrenched in agony. "Julian, oh Julian, no! I didn't mean to hurt you!" she sobbed, crawling toward him, but before she could reach him, a sharp, wet sound filled the room.
She froze.
Her wide, horrified eyes snapped toward Maxandra, tied to a chair, her body jerking violently as a dagger plunged deep into her throat.
Abigail twisted the blade cruelly, her lips parting in a delighted chuckle as Maxandra's eyes bulged, blood gushing from the deep wound in her neck. The poor woman gagged and coughed, the crimson liquid spilling down her chest in rivulets, soaking her once-elegant dress.
"Granny! Nooooo! Please, Granny!" Jasmine's terrified scream pierced the room as she watched her grandmother's body convulse. The child, paralyzed with horror, sobbed as her grandmother's life drained away before her eyes.
Catherine clenched her fists, the rage inside her burning hotter than the fires of hell itself. She grabbed the battle-worn axe from the wall and summoned a fireball, her palm glowing with a searing inferno.
With a scream of fury, she hurled the deadly flame straight at Abigail.
But just before it could touch her, the fire dissipated—vanishing into thin air as if swallowed by an unseen force.
Abigail tilted her head and smirked. "Pathetic," she sneered. "A half-demon dares to challenge me? You're nothing but a weakling pretending to be strong."
Her hands rose, fingers curling as she began chanting in a guttural, ancient tongue. The air in the room thickened, suffocatingly dense, as a sinister force seeped through the walls. The shadows stretched unnaturally, twisting into horrifying, otherworldly shapes.
Then—darkness descended.
A deafening screech echoed as grotesque creatures slithered and crawled from the void, their malformed bodies writhing, their glowing red eyes locked onto Catherine. Their distorted limbs twitched as they chanted alongside Abigail, their monstrous voices creating a nightmarish harmony.
Catherine gasped as her body was suddenly seized by an invisible force. A blinding pain exploded through her as her flesh began peeling away, ribbons of her own skin stripping off like paper. Blood gushed from the open wounds, her strength fading, her magic draining rapidly.
She screamed in agony.
"HADRAIIIIIIINNNNNNNNN!"
Her voice shattered through the oppressive darkness, a desperate plea to the one man who could save them.
But there was no answer.
Only the sound of Abigail's cruel laughter, echoing through the room like the bells of a funeral dirge.
Then—
A voice. Soft. Gentle.
A child's voice.
"Get out of our house."
The words were spoken with such innocent authority that the entire room seemed to tremble in response.
A brilliant, blinding white light exploded from Jasmine's small frame. It surged outward like a tidal wave, illuminating every dark corner, incinerating the creatures Abigail had summoned. The unholy energy she had conjured was no match for the purity of the little girl's power.
The darkness recoiled, hissing in agony as flames engulfed it. Abigail shrieked as the fire reached her, the searing heat devouring her entire being.
She staggered backward, clawing at her melting skin, her body twisting in agony. Her once-beautiful face split in half, revealing raw muscle and exposed bone. Her intestines spilled from a gaping wound in her abdomen, her forehead cracked and swollen grotesquely, her toes completely severed, leaving her stumbling on disfigured stumps. The magic that had once made her powerful had abandoned her, leaving her nothing but a mutilated, wretched shell of her former self.
A living corpse.
A broken warning to all who dared challenge the MacLeod family.
Catherine, still bleeding, struggled to her feet, her body trembling.
She turned toward Jasmine, her gaze filled with shock and awe.
"What… was that?" she whispered, barely able to comprehend the sheer devastation caused by her daughter.
Jasmine's midnight-blue eyes, still glowing with the remnants of her unleashed power, looked up at her mother.
Innocent. Unknowing.
A child who had just obliterated a force of evil with nothing but her voice.