CHAPTER ONE
Tanya
"Today, I will use your blood to wash my body," I said coldly, my voice echoing through the ritual ground.
"And your bones… will become my flute. How dare you harm my friend, you wicked human."
Dark energy surged through me as my anger burned out of control. I began chanting, my voice summoning the demons that obeyed my call. Shadows twisted at my feet, eager, hungry. I wanted him to die slowly — painfully. I wanted to watch fear drain from his eyes as my nails sank into his throat.
My godmother stepped forward, her voice sharp with warning. She said the man could be useful, that we could turn him into one of our servants instead of killing him.
I ignored her.
Mercy had never saved me. Why should it save him?
The man knelt before me, his head bowed in silence as I raged. He did not beg. He did not scream. That alone enraged me more.
With one long, blackened nail, I lifted his chin.
"Look at me," I commanded.
Slowly, he raised his eyes.
My breath caught.
Dark magic had already claimed me — my eyes were fully black, a sign that the demons had answered my call.
Humans usually trembled at the sight. Some fainted. Others died of fear before I even touched them.
But this man did not flinch.
Instead, a strange heat rushed through my body. My heart pounded violently against my ribs. Weakness flooded my limbs, sudden and terrifying.
I turned away at once.
What was happening to me?
I was dangerous. Feared. Ruthless. And yet… I was shaking.
Who was this man?
Whoever he was, the power coiled within him felt deep — darker than mine, older, restrained by force of will. For the first time in many years, fear crawled beneath my skin.
Human blood had long been my feast.
Watching it flow through my fingers brought me pleasure. Cruelty became my name, and I embraced it without hesitation. I did not harm the innocent — that was my only rule — but I never befriended them either. I despised their pity.
And love?
I had sworn never to feel it.
Because love had never shown me mercy.
At five years old, I learned what hunger truly meant. I survived on crumbs that fell beneath the dining table where my uncle and his family ate their fill. I hid under that table every day, silent, waiting for food to drop.
Mara, my cousin — my age — knew exactly where I was.
She would soak the leftover food in the dirty water they used to wash their hands, then toss it down to me with a cruel smile. I ate it anyway. Hunger does not care about dignity.
Mara attended an expensive school. I became their servant.
They starved me, ignored me, and pretended I did not exist.
My bed was an old doghouse once owned by Bella, their pet. When Bella was given a new one, they gave the broken shelter to me.
That was where I slept — cold, alone, unwanted.
Every night at eleven, after finishing my chores, I cried quietly beneath the stars. I begged them to carry a message to my parents. I asked them to take me to the land of the dead — anywhere but there.
Sometimes I watched Mara laughing on the swing as her parents pushed her higher. I smiled through my pain, imagining my own parents doing the same.
That dream never lasted.
A slap would tear it apart. My aunt's voice would follow, ordering me back to work.
The day I turned eight, my life ended.
I woke early to prepare breakfast for young Madam Mara. She watched me closely, her eyes filled with malice. When no one was looking, she poured hot tea onto her own thigh and screamed.
They never asked the truth.
They beat me until my bones screamed and my leg snapped beneath the blows. When I stopped moving, they decided I was dead.
They shoved my body into a sack.
Through the darkness, I heard my uncle arguing with his wife. He blamed her for beating me too hard — now my inheritance would be difficult to claim. My aunt answered calmly. They would throw me into the dam.
Crocodiles would erase all evidence.
Mara would take my place.
When she turned eighteen, she would inherit everything my parents left behind.
I was never family.
I was a key.
The sack opened.
Cold air rushed in.
Then I was falling.
Water swallowed me whole, stealing my breath, dragging me into darkness.
And as the child drowned…
the witch was born.