Between the Spirit and the Dust

Chapter Twenty Seven

The entire story started pouring at from Max's mouth before I even said a word. And so, the truth came out.

The village that I had seen was in the town of Salem, circa 1692 and the witch trials were well underway. Thomas St. Clair had been accused of being a witch because strange, unexplainable things had happened around him. It was said that his wife had passed during the birth of his son. The midwife told anyone who would listen that she had taken his wife's pulse, felt it stutter and slow under her palms before it eventually stopped.

But his wife was found walking around the village the next month, bringing their new baby son around the village and enquiring over the village elders' health. She had cooed after the newborn, swaddled him in blankets and chatted mindlessly.

The rumors started, fuelled by the midwife's gossipy nature. And when the rumors reached fever-pitch, two weeks later after his wife's reappearance, the midwife fell down dead mid-way through conversation.

When the villagers came for Thomas St. Clair, he had refused to go. He screamed for the Council, screamed for their protection and help. He yelled until his throat was hoarse, until the villagers had wrestled him to the ground before binding his arms. He flailed and struggled uselessly before going limp suddenly.

Stunned, one of the villagers loosened his grip. Thomas St. Clair shoved him and got free from the other villagers. He held one unfortunate man in a chokehold, his eyes darting from side to side as he looked for an escape. But none was available. They were surrounded.

Thomas St. Clair then started speaking, sweating profusely as he spoke about a secret society full of people with power greater than his. Power that he could help the village harness, names that he could give the villagers if only they would let him and his family go in peace.

The villagers had scoffed at the ramblings of a madman but deep in their hearts, they were frightened of what he could do.

His trial concluded quickly and his wife and son did not make an appearance at court. Nor did they appear on the day of the burning, when Thomas St. Clair, who had been stoic and silent throughout the course of trial, started laughing before the match was lit.

The head of the village, the man who was given the dubious honor of lighting the fire stopped and stared at Thomas St. Clair as the latter began to unravel. The laughter was a terrible thing, a sound that seemed to go on and on. Brave man cringed at the chuckles and women wringed their handkerchiefs, regretting their decision to turn up for the burning.

But it was even worse when Thomas St. Clair stopped, for the silence that was left seemed eerie and empty. His eyes roamed across the gathered villagers and each person developed a sudden interest on the ground, afraid to meet the gaze of the madman. The witch. The man who was to be burned.

Thomas St. Clair did not seem to find the person that he was looking for and he screamed, so loud that the villagers could feel their ears popping at the sound. When St. Clair drew in his next breath, the villagers covered their ears but instead he spoke in a measured tone.

And what he said was, "My promise is this. For forsaking me and mine, I curse the Council and this town. I promise that I will rise again and when I do, a daughter from each of the founding families will be claimed and each shall suffer a death more heinous than the one before. And I promise that when I am done, when all of them are dead and buried, I will go after the families of those gathered here at the burning. This is my promise and this is my word."

With that, he let out a shuddering breath and smirked.

The head of the village would never reveal this but in that moment, he had felt fear curl its icy cold fingers around his heart. Instead, he lit the torch and tossed into the pile of gathered wood, trying not to look away as the flames engulfed Thomas St. Clair and trying not to appear frightened at the screams of the dying man.

Two days later, the villagers had ransacked the St. Clair house, only to find that Mrs. St. Clair and the young boy had long left the village.

All this, Father Maximilian Somerfield had gathered from the accounts of the villagers gathered at the burning.

For Father Somerfield had been a clandestine member of the same secret society that Thomas St. Clair had belonged to, the Council which cared for the well-being of all the paranormal beings in the country. Father Somerfield was purely human, of course, but the Council needed a Human Watcher. The Watcher was a person to keep track of the events of the past and to play mediator among the different races. And Father Somerfield took his job very seriously.

So he recorded what had happened to Thomas St. Clair as the Council worked tirelessly to try to reverse the spell that Thomas St. Clair had casted in the minutes before his death. As days turned into months and months turned into years, there did not appear to be a counter-spell strong enough against St. Clair's wrath and bitterness. It was then that some on the Council regretted not aiding St. Clair when he had called but most felt certain that they had made the right decision.

Those members knew that there were some lines that the Council was not to cross. One of these rules was to let the dead rest. But Thomas St. Clair, the most powerful Dark Witch of his generation, had crossed the line in bringing back his wife to the world of the living. And for that, he had to serve his punishment.

Father Somerfield stood watch over the Council and when he passed, his children took on his role and the years continued like that, with a Human Watcher playing mediator to the Council and the Council continuing to manage the paranormal beings' affairs.

And so the days had passed and until three hundred years later, when relations between the Council grew strained over the outbreak of the Great War. Some believed that they should use their powers to intervene, to help save mankind from the War but others resisted, claiming that their kind would be exterminated in the process. That after the humans had finished turning on themselves, they would turn on the Paras.

The Council broke apart as the infighting began in earnest and the Somerfield who had been keeping watch could not help to resolve the tension. With that, the Council was no more and nobody remembered anything at all about the curse that Thomas St. Clair had placed on the founding families.

Nobody except for the last Somerfield.

***

Hey guys! I'm really sorry for having abandoned this story for the past few months but I've just been really swamped with school work. I hope you enjoyed this update and the explanation (long overdue haha) about the Council. Please vote and leave a comment if you do!