Magic's Minister [COMPLETED]

Chapter Twenty-two

A spell does not have a mind of its own. But being an embodiment of the will of its caster, it reacts similarly to the temperament of whom it was formed.

Bilara's spell attacked as if it were a vicious, rabid animal. It clawed its way into the very depths of its victim's memories and sank its teeth into the darkest, most hated ones. The ones that already stalked its victim's nightmares in spite of all attempts at forgetting.

The victim feebly tried to block the memories from the spell but it crashed through the defenses as if they were nothing more than paper covering an open door.

It snapped into place and the real fun began.

His scrawny legs shook as he stared up at the mountainous form of his father. The man's face darkened as he grabbed him by his tattered shirt and shoved him out the door of their hovel, slamming it behind him.

Panic pounded in his chest as the light from the fire was blocked out, leaving him in darkness. He clung to the leather strap that opened the door, but it refused to budge as the darkness seemed to grow deeper around him. "I'mma sorry, I'mma sorry! I won't say it 'gain! Please lemme in!"

Tears poured down his cheeks as he pounded his tiny fists against the door. His mother's shouting could be heard from the other side. Her voice seemed to trigger another one inside him. A deeper, older voice that seemed oddly familiar.

The door will open soon. You'll be safe.

For a moment, he calmed. Mum always let him in. Always.

Thick, black mist surrounded him and their home, sending the older voice into a panic as his mother's voice began fading away. The mist clung to him, circling around his underfed body in smoky spirals before it jerked him away from the door. He cried out in terror, begging for his mum or his father or even his brother.

The world remained dark and the door never opened.

If a spell could smile, it would have had a wide, sadistic one that rivaled its creator's. Its victim's childhood possessed so much disappointment, so much injustice, so much fear. The spell soaked in its victim's terror, drawing strength from the nightmares playing before the victim's eyes. It had already gained the strength to take bad memories and twist them into something even worse.