-One Thousand and Ten Years Ago-

The experiments had gone on for too long. Elodie was not going to let her mother continue to desecrate herself and others for the all but nonexistent hope of reviving Tobias Lancaster.

He was gone: buried.

And there was no spell in the entire world or even the worlds beyond that could change that.

Would that her mother was able to see things so clearly. But she had been dominated by obsession and desperation for what felt like years on end, even though it had only been months. Life had forever changed only a few months ago; the palace had grown cold and dark. More and more of the servants were dismissed—some had even disappeared without a trace. There was little to no light now, and very few causes for celebration.

Elodie wished that those changes had been limited to the castle, but they had not. The workers were withdrawn, solitary, and her mother… her mother was not the woman that she had once known.

Lysandra Lancaster had once been dignified, composed, logical. She was not the warmest or most affectionate person, but it had been obvious that she still cared, that she had loved her daughter.

Nowadays none of that was true. She was unhinged. She did not care what others thought of her, and allowed her mania to make decisions in place of the thoughtfulness that she once had. Her raven hair was tangled, torn, frazzled: there was a franticness in her movements that kept everyone on edge.

Many times had Elodie tried to speak with her mother: to get her to listen to reason instead of her own madness. Her attempts never bore any fruit. In fact, Elodie feared that her interventions only made things worse.

All of this came to a head when one day, Elodie caught a glimpse of her mother strolling around the gardens. This had once been usual: many of the flowers that were planted had been planted by Lysandra herself. But after so many months of isolation and change, the fact that she was out of her study was what prompted Elodie to notice what was once a common walk.

Lysandra was walking in circles, muttering to herself. From the distance between the gardens and her window, Elodie could not hear the specifics.

But she could still see the blood coating her mother's palms.

Enough was enough. Elodie did not know whose blood that was, but it didn't matter. She had had the dark feeling swirling in her stomach for many weeks now, nightmares of her mother committing great atrocities of dark magic.

She did not even stop to consider that what she was about to do was going to be a poor idea, or a dangerous one. The consequences were lost in her mind, because all Elodie knew was that if her mother would not listen to reason, then perhaps she would listen to action.

The book Elodie had been reading tumbled to the ground as she sprinted into the hallways. If her mother was going to continue walking around the gardens for a little while… even five minutes could be more than enough time.

Elodie's feet skittered across the stone hallways. Once, she might have garnered a few strange looks from the servants in the corridors, and they might have put their heads together to whisper about what the young lady of the castle was running off towards.

Now, those hallways were drear and empty.

There was no time to stop or reminisce on better days. Elodie picked up her skirts and sprinted, never mind the deep breaths she needed to take or the stitch that was appearing in her side.

After what felt like many minutes, she reached her mother's study: the place where Lysandra Lancaster spent all—or nearly all—of her time nowadays.

Of course, it was locked. But that was no problem for a sorceress like herself. Her mother was powerful, but she had been Elodie's teacher.

A simple spell was enough to unlock the door, and Elodie could not help wondering if such ease had been intentional, or a simple oversight on her mother's part. Either way, it was unimportant. She stepped into the study.

It was completely transformed from the last time that she had laid eyes upon it. The candles here burned with enchanted crimson or black fire, illuminating the room in an ominous glow. Where once there had been organization, now there was only frenzied chaos: notes and scrolls were scattered around in utter disarray. Many flasks and tubes bubbled with various potions, some of which Elodie recognized, some of which were entirely foreign to her.

Those were not the things she was there for. She scoured through all of the objects littering her mother's workspace, searching for specific ingredients: the ones that were needed to conduct blood magic rituals.

Elodie found them before long. As expected, they had been hidden away in the safest part of her desk, underneath lock and key. Despite the changes that had come over Lysandra, however, there was still one thing that she was predictable with: her sentiment for Tobias. The key to the drawer had been hidden behind a family portrait.

Having gathered all the ingredients, Elodie extended her fingers towards the hearth. A spark of lightning left her fingertips and ignited the logs and crumpled pieces of paper that were to help it grow.

Once the fire was large enough, she took a deep breath and gathered all of the things in her hands: she did not know what half of those objects were, but she figured it was better to not know.

With a simple gesture, they were tossed into the fireplace.

Fire was always hungry; it licked up the notes with intangible glee before searching for more. Elodie knew that it would be wise to run, to return to her room and hope that whatever alibi she might come up with would be strong enough. But she couldn't go until every last piece was ash.

The glass began to melt. Ingredients burst before being consumed. The crackle of the fire was the only sound, save for Elodie's ragged breathing. But now that her job had been completed, something hollow had taken over the space inside her chest.

Just as she was about to leave, the sound of a slamming door caused her to jump and scream.

"What are you doing?!" shrieked her mother's voice.

Before she could even respond, Elodie was ferociously pushed aside by her mother's own hand. She toppled into the side of the grand desk, gasping as a sharp point gouged into her side.

Now it was her mother's scream that permeated the room: a sound so shrill and furious that Elodie's heart trembled to hear it. She would've never expected to hear a sound like that, much less from her own family…

Lysandra reached into the fire with her bare hands, trying to grab some of the things that Elodie had tossed in—

"Mother, no!" cried Elodie. Despite the sharp tug in her side, she lunged forth and seized her mother's arm, trying to drag her backwards.

There was a sharp crack, and suddenly Elodie's face was stinging. She yelped and clasped one hand to her cheekbone; she realized, with horror and despondency, that her own mother had just slapped her across the face. And based on the unrestrained loathing that was within the snarl upon her lips, it seemed that she might've done even more.

"You wretch!" bellowed Lysandra. She tipped her fingers towards the fire again before summoning a spell to quell it, but both women knew that the damage had already been done. Her supplies, handwritten notes: everything she needed to perform the darkest of magics was gone. "Why?"

Elodie's breath came in ragged gasps, but somehow she still managed to reply, "Because you aren't yourself, and you haven't been for months! Father would've wanted you to live happily, Mother! He wouldn't want you to sell your soul for his sake!"

Another hand, fast as a whip. But this time Elodie was prepared for it. Now that she knew her mother would hurt her without hesitating, she was able to dodge out of the way.

"You don't know what he would've wanted!" wailed the Lady of the house. "That illness—it must've been bestowed upon him by someone! Some sort of enemy; I must find out who! I must—I will—bring him back! And no one will stop me. Not even my own daughter."

Elodie stood tall and removed the hand that had been pressed against her stinging cheek. With a bravery she never knew she had, she said, "Don't you remember your husband's last words to us? The last ones… that really mattered? He told us to take care of each other. You're not the same, Mother. You… you have to let go. There's no changing what happened."

Silence. It was a silence so complete that the hairs upon Elodie's arms stood up. She noted that her mother's hands were still bleeding… and it seemed the coat upon them was relatively fresh.

"You still have me," she hiccupped, desperation lacing every syllable. Despite the sticky sheen of red, Elodie launched out to seize her mother's hand. "We can move forward from all of this. It isn't too late… Mama…"

Lysandra's breathing was erratic; her chest was rising and falling at a pace that Elodie couldn't follow or place. Her mother's eyes, the same silver ones that she had inherited, were darting left and right like a cornered cat's.

"No… I've come too far, done too much… to stop now," she murmured. She shook her head, her raven curls spilling over her shoulders. "I'm on the verge of bringing him back, Elodie! My associates have said as much!"

"Demons! They are demons helping you," Elodie cried. Tears began spilling out of the corner of her eyes, making neat trails down her cheeks. "Weren't you the same woman who warned me of their lies and their tricks? You said that they would always tell one what they wished to hear, to drag them further into darkness!"

"I'm keeping them at bay! Do not hinder me, Elodie, from what I must do!"

"No, you're not!" Now Elodie was screaming, and it wasn't just out of fear: it was anger, too. "You've already lost countless pieces of yourself! I'm trying to help you—I just want my mother back!"

Heavy breathing filled the ensuing disquiet; Elodie began to hiccup and sob, realizing that if she couldn't get through to her own mother now, that she would be lost to darkness and despair forever. Then they both would truly be alone: no family to guide them, no friends to save them.

Lysandra had begun shaking, and Elodie didn't realize it until she wiped her eyes clear. This wasn't a simple gesture of fear, either… what little light was in the room was being drawn towards her, as though she were some sort of beacon.

"I am giving you a choice now, Elodie," she said, but her voice was hard and cold. "Help me bring your father back to this world, or die. Choose."

"What…?" Elodie stared at her mother, realizing that this was some sort of spell that she could not identify. She did not know what was about to happen—could not know whether her own mother was about to attack her.

That was when the realization hit her. This was not her mother anymore. She had not been for many long days, weeks… maybe even months.

There was no telling when Lysandra Lancaster had lost the last fringes of her own humanity. But it was well and truly gone now. Elodie had acted too late.

She did not respond to her mother's bargain. She launched a single barrier of energy in front of her to block whatever spell might be hurtled her way and sprinted out of the study, barreling through the empty hallways.

A veil of shadow was pursuing her, this much she knew. She could feel its frigid bite trailing at her heels—there was no time to grab anything, to return to her room, to do anything except run.

"Fine, then!" roared Lysandra's voice from somewhere far behind. "Run away and desert me! You are not my daughter anymore!"

Elodie persisted, ignoring the ache in her legs and her ribs. There was only one thing that she could do: keep going, and find someplace to take refuge. She knew that the castle—no, the entire Hallowed City—would no longer be safe.

She had to go far away; somewhere this monster could not reach.

With swirling tendrils of darkness still nipping at her feet, Elodie burst out of the castle and sprinted for the gates. They were open: a miniscule blessing. With blood pumping through her veins, she kept her eyes fixed purely ahead, one hand desperately reaching forward—

And then the shadows disappeared. Elodie had made it past the gate, and it seemed that her mother's power was not yet so great that she could extend it beyond their castle's walls.

Elodie paused, keeled over, regaining her breath. She continued walking forward, knowing that the freeze for too long would be to endanger herself: she took a quick inventory of her belongings.

There was a warm dress upon her person, a cloak around her shoulders, no shoes upon her feet. Of course she still had her wits and her guts, and what magic she was still able to cast. It was not likely to be enough, but… if she was able to sell the fur-lined coat for a lesser one and some extra gold, perhaps she could obtain some bread and shoes—

Her thoughts were disrupted by a wail from within the castle. It was a horrific screech, one that almost sounded like a cornered animal: destitute and despairing, with a hint of betrayal or anger as well.

A great blast of black blew out the windows of the northern tower's windows. Shards of glass began raining down to the ground, and while Elodie was certainly far away enough so that they wouldn't hit her, she rose her arms to protect her face all the same.

The image of a demon appeared over the castle: a creature with spindly arms and a golden crown upon her head. It had silver eyes… but even as Elodie stared, they bubbled and morphed into the color of crimson.

"So be it," said the demon, and Elodie shuddered to hear that underneath a scraping of knives, it sounded like her mother. "You have made your choice, as I have made mine. I will bring justice to this world, no matter the cost."

These words were dark, and filled with a promise: a dark one.

Elodie knew there was no more time to rest. She blinked back the fresh tears in her eyes, turned away from the image of the demon, and ran.