Meanwhile, Tabitha Blackwood was standing in front of a magic mirror, trying out fresh faces. The old witch’s heart was as cruel as it was vain, and she loathed the idea of not being adored and revered. Thanks to her powers, she could be anyone she wanted and even inhabit the bodies of those consumed by the sign of evil. She could be everywhere and nowhere, a true dark goddess whose world was built on malice and pain.
The first face she tried on was that of a young maiden with doe-like eyes and rosy cheeks. Her hair cascaded in golden waves down her back, and her lips were the color of fresh strawberries. Tabitha relished the purity that exuded from this appearance, knowing that such innocence could be manipulated to her advantage.
Next, she transformed into a seductive enchantress with smoky eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the universe. Her skin was like porcelain, flawless and enticing, and her movements were graceful and alluring. Tabitha reveled in the power this face held over those who dared to gaze upon it, for desire could be both a weapon and a shield against those who wished her harm.
Yet another face exuded an air of dangerous elegance, with sharp cheekbones casting dramatic shadows across flawless ebony skin. Her smile was a wicked curve of scarlet lips, promising pleasures beyond imagination while hinting at the lurking treachery beneath the surface.
She had tried on so many different faces over the years that she had almost forgotten her real one and some of her closest allies had yet to see it. Tabitha ruled by fear and blood, spreading her dark conditioning like a virus. The plans already in motion were too powerful to be stopped or so she liked to believe. Lila was threatening to put a wrench in them.
From the first moment they interacted, Tabitha sensed something different in Lila. Despite being blinded by arrogance and the obvious power difference between them, the older witch was impressed by her defiance. Time after time, Lila had stood her ground, resisting and evading traps other more experienced practitioners of the arts would not even have seen coming. Now, her inner strength was becoming a symbol of resistance that could inspire others to do the same. She needed to be silenced as soon as possible.
Tabitha tried on a couple more flesh disguises before settling on a face that was a stark contrast to the others she had tried. This face was not beautiful or alluring in a traditional sense, but it still carried a magnetic pull that demanded attention. The features and angular, and the eyes were almost black. A tangle of silver threads cascaded over her shoulders. Tabitha marveled at the sheer force of will that radiated from this visage and committed it to memory. The magic mirror gleamed in the darkness as if approving of her choice.
As Tabitha glanced one last time at her choice for the day, the air in the room seemed to shift, charged with a sudden intensity that told her something big was coming. A faint whisper of fabric against stone heralded one of her most powerful servants.
Magdalene, the Inquisitor, stood on the threshold of Tabitha’s chamber, her presence imposing and formidable. Now clad in a cloak woven from shadows and trimmed with fiery red runes, she kneeled before her Mistress, saying,
“I bring news, O Glorious one.”
“Good news, I hope,” Tabitha looked down at her. “Did you capture the girl.”
“Forgive me, but we did not.”
“What do you mean, you didn’t?” Tabitha’s voice was low and dangerous, her eyes flashing with a wrath that seemed to shake the very foundation of the room. Magdalene felt a shiver run down her spine as she met the dark goddess’s gaze.
“We tracked down the Resistance and tore through their defenses, but she teleported out before we could grab her. Not all is lost, though.”
Tabitha’s lips curled into a snarl as she walked towards the kneeling woman, her form shimmering with otherworldly power. She summoned the darkest magic that coursed through her veins, feeling it surge and writhe like a living entity eager to carry out her bidding.
Magdalene’s eyes widened in agony as she was lifted off the ground by an unseen force, her body contorting in unnatural angles as she was slammed against the cold stone wall. She tried to scream, but no sound escaped her lips as invisible tendrils held her in a cruel embrace, binding her limbs and rendering her helpless before the wrath of her owner.
“You disappoint me, Magdalene,” Tabitha’s cruel voice echoed in the Inquisitor’s ears. “How dare you fail me?”
Magdalene’s mind raced in a frenzy of fear and desperation as she found herself trapped in the merciless grip of Tabitha’s dark magic. The pressure on her body felt suffocating, every breath a struggle against the unseen forces that held her captive. With a surge of sheer willpower, Magdalene attempted to project her thoughts through telepathy, reaching out to Tabitha’s mind in a plea for mercy she knew the malevolent witch was not inclined to give.
“Goddess, please!” Magdalene said. “I beg of you, spare me. I have served you faithfully, devoted my life to your cause. Have I not shed enough blood in your name?”
“You’re only as good as your last success, Inquisitor. If you can’t deliver on what I asked, then what good are you for?”
“We got the mother!” Magdalene screamed inside her head.
“What did you say?” Tabitha growled.
“We captured Sarah. I brought her to you as a gift, Goddess!”
“Did you? Well, that’s interesting…” Tabitha’s voice softened as she absorbed the news. The tension in the room seemed to dissipate as she considered Magdalene’s revelation. She released her magic grip on the trembling Inquisitor, allowing her to slump to the ground in a heap of relief and exhaustion. “Did you already brand her?”
“I performed the ritual myself, but the bitch is strong,” Magdalene replied. “She’s still fighting the sign of evil as we speak.”
“Hmm, and where is she now?”
“I locked her in the catacombs, Goddess,” Magdalene stumbled to her feet. “Do you want me to bring her here?”
“No. It’s been a while since I’ve been down there. I’ll pay her a visit myself. You have done well, Magdalene,” Tabitha purred, her voice now laced with a misleading sweetness. “You may have just redeemed yourself… for now.”
Magdalene dared to look up at her Mistress, caution and hope warring in her eyes. She knew that even though she had appeased Tabitha, the dark goddess’s favor should never be taken for granted. Everything could change in the blink of an eye, and any more mistakes in the future would be severely punished. 
“Thank you, Goddess. I live to serve.”
“Prepare the prisoner for my arrival. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Yes, Goddess. As you command.”
Magdalene stumbled out of the chamber, her arms and legs aching from the magical torture she had just endured. The air outside the dark witch’s private quarters felt crisp against her sweat-slicked skin, and she leaned against the corridor wall to catch her breath. Her mind was still reeling from the ordeal, replaying Tabitha’s merciless power in her thoughts. She wiped the sweat off her forehead with a trembling hand, her heart still racing in her chest.
The Inquisitor made her way through the winding corridors of Tabitha’s lair, the ancient castle shrouded in darkness and mystery. The walls seemed to whisper with secrets of centuries past, the stones themselves bearing witness to untold horrors and dark deeds performed within their confines. Tapestries depicting scenes of demonic rituals and blood sacrifices lined the hallways, their colors faded with age but their imagery still vivid and unsettling.
As she passed through the grand ballroom, Magdalene couldn’t help but marvel at the opulence that surrounded her. The room was adorned with intricate gold filigree, velvet draperies, and ornate furnishings. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling like frozen tears, their crystals sparkling with the malevolence of their owner. 
The castle had belonged to Tabitha’s family for many centuries before being destroyed by a magical explosion. She had rebuilt it in her own image and now it existed in a realm of its own, unseen by mortal eyes. With no specific physical location in the real world, it could appear anywhere with a snap of her fingers and disappear before anyone noticed something was amiss. 
The courtyard was bustling with activity, with mindless soldiers in armor clanking as they went about their duties. For her personal protection, Tabitha had brainwashed and enslaved the most vicious of warlocks but there were also some enhanced humans, bodyguards and fighters whose memories had been wiped clean to exist only for her. They wore her crest with pride for they didn’t remember ever doing anything else.
Magdalene made her way towards the entrance to the catacombs, a sense of dread creeping up her spine as she approached the ancient stone doorway. The air grew colder and heavier with each step she took, the torches flickering in their sconces along the damp walls. A faint smell of decay lingered in the passageway, reminding her of the horrors that awaited below.
As she descended further into the depths, the sound of her footsteps echoed off the walls, creating an eerie cadence that seemed to follow her like a shadow. The darkness enveloped her like a suffocating cloak, so thick that she could almost feel it pressing against her skin.
The catacombs were a labyrinthine maze of tunnels and chambers, their walls lined with ancient bones and crumbling tombs. Cobwebs were draped like funeral shrouds across doorways, and shadows danced around her, playing tricks on her eyes as she navigated the twisting paths that led deeper into the bowels of the earth.
Whispers brushed against her ears, indiscernible voices murmuring words lost to time. The cold seeped into her bones, chilling her to the core as she pressed on, driven by duty and fear of the consequences of failure. 
Finally, she reached the cell in which Lila’s mother was being held. Sarah was chained to the wall, surrounded by black magic circles and pentagrams. She was naked and her skin bore angry red welts where she had been struck, her once vibrant eyes now dulled with pain but not resignation. The chains that bound her were infused with powerful incantations as well, their cold metal cutting into her wrists and ankles. Residues of darkness were everywhere, crackling and sparkling along the walls.
The sign of evil had been branded on her forehead, a living tattoo spreading its tendrils into her brain. However, despite the enormous pain she was in, Sarah was still in possession of her faculties, her thoughts fueled by anger and the need to protect her daughter from the madwoman hellbent on conquering the world. As long as she drew breath, she would continue to fight the good fight.
Magdalene approached the weakened woman and looked at her with disdain. She couldn’t fathom why anyone would bother resisting the will of a deity, and made it clear in her vengeful tone.
“My Goddess will be with us soon,” Magdalene declared, her voice cutting through the oppressive silence of the catacombs. “Are you ready to submit?”
“Tell your Goddess to go suck a bag of cocks because it’s obvious she needs it,” Sarah spat, facing the Inquisitor with unyielding resolve.
“Insolent cunt!” Magdalene conjured a nine-tail whip and struck Sarah across the face with such force that blood sprayed from the open wound. The crack of the whip echoed through the cell, followed by Sarah’s pained gasp as she bit back a scream. She tasted the metallic tang of her own blood and gritted her teeth, refusing to give her captor the satisfaction of seeing her break.
Magdalene’s laughter filled the chamber as she continued to rain down blows upon Sarah until she was interrupted by Tabitha’s arrival.
The Mistress of the castle strode into the cell with an air of authority and malice that made the very air writhe in revulsion. She wore a garment of darkness, a shroud-like robe that seemed to swallow up the light from the torches that lined the cell, as though it were an evil vortex. The fabric was thick and heavy, adding to her already imposing presence. The robe was fastened at her waist with an ornate, silver belt adorned with black diamonds and the symbol of her nefarious power.
Tabitha stood tall and proud, her stature commanding the dread and respect of her slaves. As she walked in, the thunderous sound of her footsteps reverberated off the stone walls. In utter silence, she yanked the whip off Magdalene’s hand and wrapped it around her neck. The instrument of pain slithered as it transformed into a snake and bit the Inquisitor’s cheeks before turning into ash.
“It seems you were getting a little carried away,” Tabitha declared. “Leave us! I want to talk to her alone.”
“Yes, Goddess,” Magdalene bowed and accepted yet another dismissal. 
As the cell door creaked shut behind Magdalene, the oppressive atmosphere in the room shifted. A low hum, like the pulsating of an unseen heartbeat, took over the silence. Tabitha paced around the square room, her boots clattering against the cold stone floor. Her gaze lingered on the branding on Sarah’s forehead. The sign of evil was growing darker by the second. While resistance was possible to an extent, stopping its progression remained impossible. The blood magic would soon take over her brain, turning Sarah into another obedient thrall.
“I bet that hurts…” Tabitha said. “That’s good. Pain is the perfect catalyst for a rebirth.”
“Fuck off!” Sarah spat. “So you’re the crazy motherfucker that’s threatening to destroy the balance of our world, huh?”
“What balance?” Tabitha scoffed. “The illusion we’ve been sold in order to protect those who are inferior? There is no balance. There’s us and them, and we hold all the power.”
“Evil is the illusion. Reality is more than fire and blood, bitch! You will not destroy centuries of peace with your disgusting plans. The Congregatio…”
“The Congregatio is a failed experiment that undermined our strength and shackled us all. Once my control fills your mind, you’ll accept it too. I look forward to seeing you grovel at my feet, Sarah,” Tabitha smirked.
“I’m not going down easy.”
“Oh, I know… Your daughter’s stubbornness had to come from somewhere after all. What matters is that you’ll break and, in time, so will she.”
“We’ll see about that,” Sarah licked her blood-tinged lips, and her thoughts turned to Lila and her unusual gift that was now manifesting. The enemy hadn’t captured her yet, so everything was still in play. “I believe you, sweetie,” she thought. 
More than ever, the fate of the magical world rested in Lila’s hands. Between freedom and slavery, there was only one acceptable choice. Sarah took a deep breath and closed her eyes as the influence of the mark of the enemy continued to invade her mind.

((to be continued))