Authors Note: Hi everyone! My goodness I haven't updated in a long time. I am very sorry for the delay. I have literally not written or typed up any more of my story since I last uploaded a chapter. I didn't know I'd be so busy. But I promised you I wouldn't give up my story until it was completed so here is the next chapter!

Oh fantastic reviews, I love them all!

Chapter 8 – The Beginning of the End

Chris' world had shattered into millions of pieces and he could feel the tiny fragments falling around him. He had lied to the people in the hospital who had been so kind to him and told them that his Uncle Henry would be coming to pick him up. In reality his Uncle Henry had been killed alongside his wife Paige and their unborn child eight years ago and Chris had orbed home. He knew Wyatt would be coming for him soon but he wasn't going to go with him. So he had collected up as much as he could and moved into P3, a nightclub that his mother had owned but hadn't been open since she had died.

Chris had never been inside P3 before and shone his torch around the dark building critically. He dumped his heavy rucksack on the wooden floor and a thick cloud of dust rose up, causing him to cough. He waved the hazy screen away from his face with one hand and continued to look around the room he was in.

There was a large stage along one wall where bands had once played. One lone amplifier now remained there, frosted like the lighting above it with cobwebs. There was a drinks bar at one end of the room which looked as if it had been grand in its day, but the varnished tops were now grey with dust. Chris walked over to it and tried opening a few cupboards which slid open fairly easily considering they hadn't been used in years. Except for a few spiders which scurried quickly away from the torch light, annoyed at being disturbed he found them all empty.

There wasn't much else in the room apart from four or five moth eaten sofas, so Chris picked up his rucksack and opened a black door a small distance from the bar. He found himself in what looked like an office. It was a small room with a bathroom leading off to one side, containing another collapsing sofa and a desk. He shone his torch along the walls; almost every inch of them covered in peeling posters of various singers and bands who had once played in the club. Many of them had fallen to the floor which was littered with newspapers and even a couple of drink cans.

Chris tried the light switch hopefully but nothing happened. He stepped cautiously across the floor and into the bathroom. A cockroach scuttled across the tiled floor causing him to pull a face.

This was going to be fun, he thought sarcastically.

Because it was a nightclub, the bathroom was the only room which contained a window. Chris couldn't open any doors because if his brother realised someone was living in P3 then he would be onto him in a flash.

He threw a couple of blankets onto the sofa in the office and inched onto it gingerly, praying it wouldn't crumble beneath him and that there weren't any cockroaches living in it. He had met many disgusting demons before with many revolting habits but yet cockroaches still made his skin crawl.

As he lay there in the darkness, his mind drifted to the unhappy occurrences of the day that had reduced his life to this miserable state. He was pretty sure that he couldn't feel any worse than this, but he forced his sadness back. Now was no time to wallow in his own self pity, he had a job to do. He had to stop his brother from taking over the world. It sounded ridiculous just thinking about it but he knew that he had to do something, after all Wyatt was family. As long as he was able to cloak himself from his brother he would have a chance in fighting the demons and darklighters who worked for him, and just maybe he could save his brother from destroying all that their family had died to build.

The next day Chris orbed to his grandfather's house in the hope he could retrieve anything else before any government officials took over the buildings.

The moment he formed there he realised that something was wrong. He looked around the practically bare living room in shock. This was not how he'd left it. Was it possible that someone had been sent round already? Chris pushed the idea from his head. His grandfather had only died last night which meant… he stopped. Wyatt had been again.

Suddenly a pair of thick, muscular arms wrapped themselves around his thorax, pinning his arms to his sides and crushing his ribs, causing him to exhale with a gasp. He watched helplessly as the room melted away and the demon shimmered out with him.

They reappeared in the instantly recognisable place Chris feared they would go. The dark, dank, musty smell of rotting flesh reached his nostrils before the underworld shimmered into view before him. He was surprised to see an extraordinary high domed roof for a demon's cave materialise, the room slightly circular in shape with a raised pentagon shaped platform in the middle, white lines from each corner met in the middle of it where a book stood on a thick, wooden stand. Around the platform many demons had gathered; a mumbling swarm of black, which faded into silence as Chris and his captor shimmered into view.

Chris' first though was that this was the end. It would have to be a miracle if he escaped alive out of this mess. He realised with a shudder that all demonic eyes were turned his way. Waiting. Was he to be part of a ritual sacrifice? He didn't want to wait and find out and tried to orb out. Unfortunately the demon seemed aware that he would try something along those lines and the second Chris felt his body disappear into orbs he was roughly pulled back to earth. He spun round to face his captor and flung his right arm into the air making it fly through the air and scrape painfully across the floor.

"Leaving so soon?" a deep voice queried.

"Wyatt," Chris stopped, his arm still raised high and scammed the crowd of demons for his brother.

The demon he had thrown to the floor frantically scrambled to its feet as the others parted to allow Wyatt to walk down the middle of them.

Chris let his arm drop limply by his side and he glared at his brother.

"What did you do with Grandpa's stuff?" he demanded.

Wyatt gave a hollow laugh.

"What? You want the government to take it?" he asked.

"Don't you think they're going to wonder what happened to it?"

Wyatt shook his head with a wry smile.

"They're going to have a lot more on their minds then missing furniture," he said simply.

"What do you mean?" Chris replied slowly, a horrific scene already playing through his mind.

"Let's just say that you should be glad that you accepted my invitation,"

"Rather compulsory don't you think?" Chris retorted as Wyatt turned away from him and motioned to two demons.

"Show our guest to his room," he said.

Chris watched the advancing demons for a second before sending them crashing back where they had come from.

There were a few indignant roars from demons who had been crushed by their soaring comrades and a couple of others went up in flames.

Chris glanced back at his brother, who turned back to face him.

"That's not like you at all Chris," he said with twisted delight.

"No, it's not," he agreed. "But you killed the Elders and Grandpa yesterday and one could argue that that wasn't like you either."

"I didn't kill Grandpa," Wyatt reasoned.

"No?" Chris scoffed.

"He was dying," continued Wyatt. "It was inevitable."

"You've put the entire magical community in danger," Chris said struggling to keep calm. "And for what, your own benefit!"

"For our benefit," Wyatt corrected. "We deserve better then what we have been given and you should be happy that I have found a way to help us."

"Yes well great job. I haven't felt this good in years," Chris replied in the same sarcastic tone that came so naturally when confronted by demons. It hurt him that his brother now had the same effect on him. Wyatt seemed unfazed however.

"The world will be ours Chris. With my power I can control it and ours combined we can rule it."

Chris couldn't help but let out a small smothered laugh.

"You're barmy," he said.

"You may not appreciate what I am about to do," Wyatt said. "But one day you will thank me and we will be great."

He waved a finger and on the opposite side of the platform to where all the demons were still standing two thick metal cages appeared, both only large enough to take a maximum of two people. One of the cages already contained a person. A young woman, probably only in her early twenties, but her body had aged from the time she had spent in captivity. Her clothes were shredded rags which hung on her bones like strips of filthy cotton on a washing line. Her hair was a matted nest. Perhaps once blonde, but now a grime plugged grey. Her sunken eyes screaming for mercy as her wasted fingers wrapped around the coppery bars to support the skull she pressed there.

Wyatt twitched his finger again and the door to the empty cage swung open.

Chris jerked his head sharply away from the woman to stare at his brother, suddenly feeling very scared. He took a step backwards and shook his head briefly.

Wyatt raised his arm slowly and Chris felt himself lift into the air. He instantly began to struggle in the hope that it would weaken the force that held him there.

"Wyatt let me go!" he shouted, sending telekinetic waves back at his brother who simply reflected them with his other hand before he swept his hand towards the open cage door and Chris watched helplessly as the glinting, coppery coloured bars flew closer as he shot towards them. He pulled his arms over his head, just before he fell through the open door and landed heavily on the dusty floor inside, crashing into the bars at the back in the process. Instantly he sprung to his feet, knowing from experience that it paid for the sweet seconds of recovery, but even then he was too late. He stumbled to the opening just as its closing clang reverberated around his new prison, trapping him.

Not ready to give up yet, Chris flicked his fingers at the lock, but instead of opening the door, his telekinesis bounced off an invisible shield and shot back at him, knocking him off balance.

"It blocks magic," Wyatt said, approaching the cage whilst Chris picked himself off the floor. "Handy of the previous source to leave them behind for me, isn't it?"

Chris glanced at the woman in the cage next to him before looking back at Wyatt.

"How long has she been here?" he asked.

Wyatt laughed and Chris cocked his eyebrows questioningly.

"Only about half a year," he said. "But don't worry. Today will be her last day in captivity."

"Why? Because you've found somebody to replace her?" Chris asked.

"You're only here for your own safety," said Wyatt. "Knowing you, you'll probably do something rash."

"Why?" demanded Chris.

"Because," Wyatt turned to point at the book on the stand on the platform. "That is the Grimoire that our family kindly hid in Peru."

Chris froze. He remembered the Grimoire from the stories his mother used to tell him about the Source. The Grimoire was part of the ceremony which released the source into a willing and suitable being. Without it a new Source couldn't be appointed and because his mother and aunts had hidden the Grimoire many years ago, there hadn't been a new Source for a very long time.

"Taking over the world is no easy task," Wyatt said. "I need more power."

"The Source's power is no ordinary power Wyatt!" Chris exclaimed. "The Source is an evil full of power which corrupts the beholder. It will take over you until you aren't aware of anything you are doing anymore!"

"I know the stories," dismissed Wyatt. "That only happened because the demons were weak. I am not weak. I am the most powerful being in the world and I already have much more power than the Source. It cannot corrupt me. I will corrupt it and I will take its power and destroy it."

He paused to allow Chris to speak but he said nothing. He didn't know what to say. His brother was far away from reasoning.

"Watch and learn little brother," Wyatt continued and turned to walk towards the Grimoire.

An old, robed demon stepped forward onto the platform. Wyatt placed his hand on top of the Grimoire and Chris sunk to his knees in helplessness.

"Wyatt Matthew Halliwell," the old demon began. "Are you prepared to accept the power and position of the Source before all the leaders of the underworld?"

"No," whispered Chris.

"I am," replied Wyatt.

"Repeat the oath after me," the old demon said, before beginning to repeat lines from the Grimoire in a strange language that Wyatt echoed with ease.

Chris couldn't bear to watch anymore. He looked at the woman in the cage next to him, who was sitting in the corner of her cell, a blank expression on her face and scrambled as close to her form as he could get.

"What's your name?" he asked, not caring about sounding foolish.

"It doesn't matter anymore," she replied, in a voice so raspy that Chris could barely understand what she was saying.

"Sure it does," Chris replied. "Are you a witch?"

The woman nodded and looked ready to say something before a blinding blue light pierced the dullness of the cavern, forcing Chris to screw up his eyes to shield them from the brightness. Wyatt was cloaked in the light, beams of it being emitted from every part of his body, causing him to rise a couple of feet into the air.

The entrancing sight was short lived however and the moment the light disappeared the reality of the situation came flooding back. Wyatt turned his face so Chris could see that his eyes were no longer that of a human, but two, black, endless pits. For a second Chris saw the flicker of flame inside the holes which were no longer his brothers but the eyes of the Source.

He expected to see the flames die out, but instead their intensity grew until they covered the darkness entirely, and it wasn't stopping there, golden amber was burning out of his eyes.

Chris clambered to his feet in curiosity and amazement. The old demon quickly retreated from the platform and the other demons looked as equally as disturbed.

Wyatt gave a violent hiss and what looked like a black swarm of flies poured out his eyes. Chris recognised this as the Source his mother had described in her stories but the moment it had exited Wyatt, every particle of the cloud like shape crackled, fizzed and exploded like thousands of tiny sparklers, and the Grimoire crumbled to ash. In a matter of seconds Wyatt's eyes had returned to normal and he smiled victoriously.

Chris saw that the demons still looked unsure of what to make of the whole affair but Wyatt seemed anxious to completed the ceremony.

"And now for the sacrifice!" he announced and conjured an atheme into his outstretched hand.

Whatever the demons had been feeling previously the mention of the word sacrifice and the sight of glinting steel in Wyatt's hand reminded them of what was the norm and they cheered.

Wyatt tilted his head slightly and the cage door of the woman's cell swung open. He walked over to it and physically dragged her out.

Chris ran against the bars of his own prison and shook them with all the strength he had.

"STOP IT WYATT!" he yelled. "YOU CAN'T KILL INNOCENTS!"

Wyatt ignored him and the woman didn't ever resist his cruel touch.

"WYATT LISTEN TO ME!"

Wyatt dumped her on the floor and began chanting a memorised ritual.

"WY…?"

He raised the atheme high above her and Chris hid his face.

"Please…" he heard the woman whisper in the silence before the sickening sound of flesh and bone meeting metal stopped her pleading.

The demons began to cheer as Chris desperately tried to block it out. He heard soft footsteps approach his cell and looked up. Wyatt looked back at him. The atheme was gone and the only sign of what he had just done was the still body that lay on the platform behind him.

"Join me," he said.

Chris could only look back at him in shock. Not sure if he could trust himself to speak without becoming hysterical. He took a couple of uncertain breaths.

"Go to hell," he snapped finally.

Wyatt laughed.

"Do you remember Excalibur?" he asked.

Excalibur was the powerful sword of the legendary King Arthur of Camelot. When Wyatt was much younger he had become heir to the sword, which their mother had hidden, stone and all, in the attic until she believed Wyatt was ready for it.

Chris nodded.

"Well don't you think the time has come?" Wyatt asked.

Chris shook his head.

"Leave it," he said.

Wyatt laughed again.

"Never in a million years," he replied and held his arms out as if he was already holding the weapon.

"Excalibur," he commanded.

A glow of golden light surrounded his hands before a mighty sword appeared in its place. It shone a glimmering silver, unlike any metal Chris had ever seen, its golden hilt encrusted with tiny jewels of many colours and shades twinkling in the firelight from the torches on the wall and the reflection from the thick blade.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" admired Wyatt, before turning to face the demons.

"Gather your troops," he ordered. "Before this day is out, the world will fall!"

The demons gave another cheer.

"All hail Lord Wyatt!" they applauded before shimmering out, Wyatt following after them.

Chris wasn't sure how long he had been trapped in the cage but he had a feeling that it was nearing ten hours now.

He had tried every means of escaping. He'd orbed, tried sending telekinetic waves at every part of the cell in case a part wasn't protected, casted a few spells and even tried forcing the door open with his own two hands. But nothing had happened except from bruising himself all over when everything backfired.

Finally Wyatt orbed back in. Excalibur was gone and he was sweating and dirty, but still a morbid smile was stretched across his face.

"Mortals can put up a good fight," he said, wiping his brow.

He flicked his finger and the cage door opened.

Chris ran out as quickly as he could and orbed out, hoping he could do so before Wyatt realised what he was doing. Unfortunately he had barely begun orbing before he reappeared again in front of his brother.

"Chris, Chris, Chris," Wyatt tutted. "Where will you go?"

"Anywhere but here," Chris replied.

"It's not safe out there," Wyatt said.

"I can take care of myself," Chris said.

Just then a group of Darklighters orbed in.

"My Lord," one of them said. "We have caught a Whitelighter who claims to have known you. We daren't kill him without your consent because he'd like to speak to you."

Chris stepped slowly backwards towards the exit whilst this was occurring and neither Wyatt nor the Darklighters seemed to have noticed.

"What is his name?" Wyatt asked.

"Kyle Brody sire," the Darklighter replied.

Chris had almost reached the exit.

"I know not such person," Wyatt replied just as Chris his around a rocky corner. "Kill him."

Chris couldn't risk going any further and blocked himself from Wyatt's sensing powers before orbing out.

He decided that going to P3 straight away would be too risky and so orbed on top of the Golden Gate Bridge.

The moment he formed there he could see the damage Wyatt had done to the city. He took hold of the large, red, riveted beam to support himself as he took in the carnage.

Many of the skyscrapers had been reduced to smouldering wrecks, the smoke billowing into the sky, blocking out the stars and choking the air with fumes that not only could Chris smell, but poured down his throat and lingered bitterly on his taste buds.

Even from this height he could hear the screaming of people and the sirens of emergency services. The terror of the city was unimaginable. Usually if magic was revealed to mortals, the Elders would send beings called Cleaners to wipe memories and clean up after magical accidents. But Chris knew that with the death of the Elders, no one could come this time.

He sat down and looked at the unusually empty road beneath him. The Golden Gate hadn't been damaged in the attack, but Chris knew that this was only the first wave. There were still demons on the streets and Wyatt would attack again soon and keep attacking until the world fell at his feet.

Chris was pretty sure that Wyatt wouldn't go looking for him yet as he had much more current, pressing matters to attend to and decided that he could risk going back to P3 without being detected.

He was relieved that the nightclub hadn't been affected by the attack yet and tried to take his mind off the day's occurrences by finishing unpacking his rucksack.

He pulled out a patterned wooden box and sat down with the object on his lap, on the sofa he slept on. He lifted up the metal latch and looked at the contents inside which consisted of many envelopes full of letters addressed to him.

He picked the most recent one from the top and unfolded the paper inside. Each of the letters was from the same person, about the same thing, time and time again. This one was dated two days after his fourteenth birthday.

'Dear Chris, I'm sorry I couldn't make your birthday again, but as you know Elder work is very time consuming as a lot of people in the world are relying on me to help them. I hope you enjoyed your day and got lots of nice presents and cards. I'm sure your mother cooked a fantastic meal and Wyatt got you something extra nice. Look after yourself Buddy. Love Dad'

Chris leant his head on the back of the sofa and sighed. He reached his hand down the side of one of the cushions and pulled out the blue Ludo counter he had pushed down there. He stood it on his open palm and admired the highlights from the torchlight on its curved surface. He closed his fingers around it sadly and pushed it into the box with the letters before snapping the lid shut and pushing it away.

As the months past, Chris became used to his new existence. He would make trips to the underworld every so often to vanquish demons and slowly got a feel for how Wyatt was planning his attacks and motives and also learnt of a resistance of witches who were still brave enough to fight against Wyatt. Everyone else however, slowly stopped fighting as Wyatt and his armies took control.

Chris knew that now Wyatt would have more time to concentrate his powers on finding him and he had to be more careful when going out in the open.

He realised that working on his own wasn't going to help save his brother and so also made it his priority to find out the location of the Resistance before his brother found him. Unfortunately he had no way of contacting them and he hoped that one of them would be able to find him. But the only way that could happen was if he lowered his shield so he could be sensed for. In the end he took the risk and lowered it in the middle of San Francisco and began to walk as if he was just an ordinary pedestrian going for their daily stroll. He kept a wary eye out for anyone wanting to approach him but only one tall, lone, dark figure stopped him by stepping in front of his path.

"Hello Chris," came the deep voice.

Chris froze. Wyatt had found him.