Spellbound

This is the prologue to a story I may or may not continue, so for now I'm uploading it as a story. Reviews are appreciated. Thanks.

Though twelve pounds had been resting in her cradled arms for over an hour, Delia never thought of resting them. The infant boy brought peacefulness to her worn and regretful self and told her that no matter how bad her current situation was, he would keep everything good. Bouncing the child up and down, the kindhearted mother scanned the dimly lit room in which she resided. The walls and floor were naturally connected rocks that insulated the otherwise cold room, a skill the blinking orange blaze in the fireplace helped with. There was a warm wave of nostalgia and safety that washed over its tenant. Delia often wondered how such a calm room could be a part of a labyrinth of lies.

The baby’s gumball eyes were beginning to become blanketed by his lids, sending the unknowing child into a far-off world of dreams that could never be broken as long as he slept. His mother smiled and held him close to her breast, taking in his innocence. Sighing a breath of mixed emotions, she whispered to herself in a raspy, yet gentle voice,

“I’ll always be here, my son.  No matter what He does to me, I’ll always be here.” She knew it wouldn’t be long until he came for her. She knew the deal was done and she would have to pay the unfortunate price. Delia stood up quickly and walked briskly to his barred bed. “How can you feel so safe in those bars? That doesn’t matter. If bars keep you safe, stay in them. But escape if you can.”

His back made contact with the woolen blanket that lined the old mattress. It wasn’t much to most, but to a small creature like a baby, it was a cloud and the raised crib was the bright, blue sky that she longed for. In her pocket sat a thoughtfully folded piece of scrap paper that Delia had covered with information. Information about her, the child and Him, among other things she thought he should know. From a distance, her well trained ears heard a slam. She quickly slipped the note into a crack in the wall and looked back at her creation. “Everything will be okay.”

The wooden door was kicked open with ultra-powerful frorce from a big muscled guard. He glared at the woman angrily. A picture is worth a thousand words, but that glare was worth two. “It’s time.” Delia sauntered dignified to the door, following the exiting man. Her head pivoted into the room and she locked eyes with her boy. In a pseudo telepathic moment, they knew each other was saying I love you.

The sounds of clicking and crackling were the only ones that filled that similarly stoned corridors of His underground hideout. Every foot, there was a torch on either wall, filling the place with the same pumpkin glow she had endured in her room. Hall after hall, the two walked and walked through the maze He had made a small army of minions do; With His magic, of course. For some, it was certain death, as finding your way through a place like that was quite a feat, but to her, everything was as normal as her old house. Sometimes, sleepwalkers know their house so well, it’s nothing for them to walk perfectly through it. That’s how well Delia knew it. That knowledge was a skill she could have happily lived without.

They halted suddenly at a dark dead end. The guard, not giving any notice to the shaking woman, put his hand against the stones that made up the wall. A clinking was heard as a door appeared out of thin air. It creaked open and they stepped inside.

This new chamber was much larger than that of Delia’s, but was built the same and aside from its contents, was practically a perfect dilation of her room. The guard, done with his task, reversed himself and mindlessly exited. The wall reappeared behind, trapping the woman inside. In front of her was a cloaked man, kneeled in front of his much larger fireplace. Anytime she saw it, thoughts of hell burned through her head. That’s exactly what it looked like to her; A portal to hell. If anyone could create one, He could. She stood as a statue does for what seemed like forever. Finally, the figure pivoted to face her.

“Hello, Dean,” Delia stuttered in a half spoken, half whispering way. With a cynical smirk on his face, he replied quickly,

“Hello, Delia.” Reaching his arms up, Dean pulled the cloth hood off of his head, revealing to her his much too familiar face. It was beautiful. Clean shaven, not a blemish or bump, symmetrical, he looked perfect. His looks matched his powers, and to some, that wasn’t a good thing. Every second he was visible, Delia remembered why she fell in love with him. With every thought of that, she then asked herself why she succumbed to temptation. She was married. She loved her husband. She just loved Dean more. At least, she did. “You know, I really don’t want to have to do this, but you know too much. If only our child had magic too.”

“I told you he wouldn’t.”

“But we couldn’t take that chance, now could we?” She remained as still as she had been, her head now facing the ground. Dean stepped over to her, setting his hand on her shoulder. ”It has to be done. Even if you didn’t know much, the book says-“

“I know what the goddamn book says!” Delia shouted. Though taken aback, Dean kept his hand where it was. After taking few breaths, she spoke again. “Where is Ashton?”

“Sleeping. I thought you didn’t want him here to-“

“I don’t. I just wanted to know.” She paused. “Promise me something. Promise me you’ll take care of them.”

“Of course I will. There’s nothing in the book about killing kids.”

“I’m ready.” He nodded and walked to the fire. He reached greatly in the powerful inferno, seemingly showing off his power and strength. When pulled back out, his arms carried a large book; A book of spells. In a loud, booming voice, Dean called out, “Delia!”

On its own, the book flung open and as if the room was being destroyed by a tornado, the pages turned faster than any normal person could dream of turning it. Then, like it was frozen in time, it stopped. He glanced at his victim, taking a few seconds to study her face. All he saw was betrayal. She only wanted love, while he only wanted power. His matching love for her was no match for his greed. The sorcerer looked at the book once more, this time, reciting the magic.

“The deal has been broken. I call to the sky. I call for the vortex. Delia must die. The time has come. Bring forth your fiery lashes. Rid us of her.” He looked at Delia one last time. “Ashes to ashes.”

Suddenly, there was a loud shaking. The fire grew brighter and hotter. From the fiery abyss came two ropes of flame. They circled the woman, trapping her inside the hellish vortex. Slowly, her body was lifted from the cold ground and she floated two feet above where she had been standing. She closed her eyes for the last time. Two large hands of fire reached out and clutched Delia. It was a sight from the Divine Comedy. She was slowly pulled closer to the flames. The sheer heat caused her face to sweat more profusely than ever. All the time, Dean simply stared. No emotion in his face, no emotion in his heart. For no more than five seconds after she was inside to fire, the blood curling screams of a woman being burned alive lit up the room, like the Grim Reaper’s fireworks. Then it was all over.

There was silence. Dean retreated to Delia’s room. It smelled of her. Sweet with a touch of deception. He wasn’t there to remember her, he wanted to see their failed spawn. He crept up to the crib, watching as the child slept peacefully in the least peaceful of places.

“How could you?” A small voice said from behind. He turned around to see a young boy, roughly 4’10”, jet black hair covered in a navy beanie, crying.

“Go to bed, Ashton.”

“You killed-“

“Do you want me to make you?” Ashton quickly turned and ran from the monster called Dean.  The madman returned his attention to the younger child. Staring his signature empty stare, he spoke softly, “If only you knew, Christopher, if only you knew."