As the storm heighten the young man struggled against the bonds that held him firmly to the altar he found himself on. His clothing and body were beyond soaked to the very bone. He could barely make out the figures that were around him, but he could make out their voices. "Why are you doing this to me? … I'm your SON!" The figures went silent for what seems like an eternity than a bolt of lightning struck nearby illuminating the area.
It would have been a been beautiful place with all the sunflowers to see if not for the storm and dark ritual that was taking place this night. "It's because you are our son we can give you this great gift and through that ensure the family wealth will continue to grow to new heights." The young man jerked at the bonds once again praying for a weak link, so perhaps he could escape from this nightmare he found himself to no avail.
"What if I don't want this gift; what if I want to be an average teenage boy! - and another thing fucks the family fortune if I have to go through this!" The young man spat out as he heard a small snicker coming from the figures. Which if you can believe it made the young man more anger. But the young man stopped struggling as he heard an old raspy voice almost like gravel poured into the drier sound. He could only make out every other word this new figure said, but he almost wishes he didn't.
"Sacrifice … Which… Ancestor… To … Dark-Ones … Long-Ago … Be …thy … vessel." The figure let out a gasp and a very haggard cough to which one of the figure move toward him "father let me finish the ritual for you" the boy recognize the voice at once as his father. And if that were the case the man wheezing, holding a slim grasping to the last strand of his fragile life, would be his grandfather for whom he'd always believed had passed away before he was born.
The figure that he assumed was his grandfather nodded and took the place that the figure he believed was his dad had been standing. The young man was about to beg his father to reconsider, but before he could, he heard him continue where the one he assumed stopped. "For which we of our bloodline made this sacred pact to gather and distill the forces of the world behind the veil of man to make a being worthy of one day take their place to be among the ranks of the dark lords."
With that, something else in the darkness was taken and poured into something that reeked of iron and a faint maleficent darkness. A streak of lighting swoop down from the heavens, and for a moment the young man swore it look like a hand as it struck something just out of view. He could hear several gasps that were followed by chanting as the chanting grew so did the violet colored illumination. For the first time, he could see that there were more people involved in this than he thought and they all wore what he assumes wear mask tied to this ritual. That thought vanished as he heard his father speak once again.
"The time of change nears, and we now invoke the last thing we need. We call to those who lived a pound this ancient place known as 'witch hill, '. and the spirits of many whom live here, and there ventures had ended so abrutly. He could see the faint glow of those spirits as he watched on. As they seemed here to add to this cauldron the life you wasted so it could be used to fulfill the dreams and repays those who gave our family the knowledge it did." The young man didn't know if he was hallucinating or going nuts or both, but he saw orbs of light come from the ground from all around the place. Passing through people as they begin to gather; for moments, he could swear he saw actual people and not orbs of energy walk into the violet light and disappearing. In the distance, he could hear a bell chime in was midnight, and if like a signal gun going off he could feel the energy erupt from behind him. He didn't think he could be any more scared, but at that moment something inside of him knew these people had success in whatever this ritual was meant to do. (if he could piss his pants now any more than he had already done he would.)
Before he could say a word or before a word was said to him he felt something being rammed into his neck and then a sensation of something warm but nice seemed to be pumped into him. It was pleasant feeling even if his body tried to unconsciously move away from the sharp initial pain his body felt but this was fun but all sudden it went from cute to something so much different his skin felt like it was on fire while his inside felt cold. His body went into spasms, his jaw locked. For a moment, he could hear a voice, but he wasn't sure if that was real or not. All he could remember as he started to fall into the darkness was his mother voice screaming; "get the rosary bracelet onto him!"
It had been a week maybe more since the ritual; it was hard to tell from the darkness the young man found himself in (with the only light coming when someone pushed his food through a slot in the door.) He knew they were genuinely afraid of him if not for what they did to him that the fact he was no longer their son…. Hell was no longer human he was some hybrid thing created through his family mad science and some of the darkest magic. The only reason he even had a human form was the bracelet on his wrist that keeps his power in check and them safe. But he could feel the magic changing him from his inside and the craving for weird and disturbing things that a week ago would have made him puke his guts out. He wished that was the worst of it but the more time that passed in the darkness and isolation he also felt the last of his sanity slipping away in the void he found himself in at this moment. But he knew full well until the spell ran its course and it couldn't be reversed this place would be his home. So he felt his way to the door and the tray of food. Once his fingertips touched the plate, he slid his hands under the tray and lifted it up and sat against the door frame and started to eat slowly; mapping out the thing he was going to do to the people who did this to him.