TW: Swearing, blood, and violence. 

Antonio starts, "I know a lot about your family. I knew your family. Nuestras familias, los Reyes y los Del Luna éramos más cercanos que las demás brujas y brujos de México. We lived in neighboring towns in Jalisco, so we saw each other often. All your aunts and uncles were exceptional brujos y brujas, pero Nicolás was different. 

He had eight siblings you know, your aunts and uncles, but he was always lost between the oldest and the youngest. He didn't know how to stand out. Do you know what they used to call him? 'El Olvidable' because nobody ever bothered to remember his name." (Our families, the Reyes and the Del Lunas, were closer than the other witches and warlocks in Mexico.)

"Creo que al hijo de puta le gustaba ese nombre. He was never home but when he was there, he was quiet and dismissed. However, I knew it was to keep the townspeople and brujos y brujas from asking about him. 

As you see, Nicolás performed exorcisms, expelling evil spirits from the possessed, and the only way to eradicate such evil is by practicing dark magic. Turns out your father is natural at it." (I think the son of bitch liked that nickname.)

Antonio points to the four-cornered walls smeared in blood. The lines no longer looked like scrawls. They were connected and formed into shapes. My eyes focused on a larger shape, it flattened others. It was carved like when you dig your pen into your notebook and anger pokes and stains through the next page. As I stared I realized these weren't shapes, these were symbols. They were different symbols overlapping each other, big and small. Carved and painted. Black and white.

There was a radiance under these symbols, their vibrations I felt now, they hovered over my skin like needles.

"These markings are demonic sigils, they're all meant to conjure the evil out of the possessed soul. Sometimes they act ahead, they can weaken your body before the ritual begins. Each one is meant to do something different but they all have one common goal; to dissolve evil." He smiles. "This is dark magic and it requires a lot of power and stability. If you're not careful with it, you can kill your soul."

Imbalanced is what I felt, I was standing over the edge of a cliff tipping over with one leg out.

"Every sigil you see here has been written and craved by your father. I heard he was strong enough to wield ten of these sigils at once. That's a lot of dark magic, Nora. A lot. Do you know what the witches and warlocks would whisper behind Nicolás' back once they found out what he did?" 

He whispered. "El diablo se escapó del infierno y vive dentro de Nicolás Del Luna."(The devil has escaped from hell and it lives inside of Nicolás Del Luna.)

Fate told me my father practiced dark magic. Dilara warned me, my whole family practiced dark magic. I didn't know what dark magic entailed but if these sigils were preparing themselves to prowl all over my body then, maybe I could control them. If I come from a family of dark magic practitioners then, could I control them or was I too weak to control dark magic?

My chest tightens. Antonio speaks of my father like a friend turned traitor. I believe he did know my father, but he is not telling me all my father's truths.

I swallowed. "Why—why—" My breaths came harder.

"Why am I doing this? Because your father killed my brother and he was all I had left when I came to this stupid country. He was all I had left from home." He seethes. "You should know that when you use these sigils on someone who does not have an evil spirit they can be a bit aggressive. They're looking for evil and until I stop the ritual, they will devour your flesh and destroy your soul."

I needed to escape. I need to leave this room before he starts. I could see the door behind Antonio's figure. The distance between the door and I seemed immense but the pain clouded my ability to perceive the space correctly. I have to find a way and as much as I wanted to scream, I couldn't. My throat and voice felt like I swallowed a dozen razors. I could barely talk, let alone scream.

Still, I pressed my palms on the wooden floor and dragged my body across the room. Antonio stands at the corner with a sick smile. He is enjoying watching my poor attempt at escaping and it is humiliating how he doesn't try to stop me. The pain shoots through my body again, I need to think about something else.

Hate. I think about all the things I hate right now. I hate that my head is bleeding and pounding like a sledgehammer. I hate that the voices came back and left. I hate not being able to scream. I hate that I was powerless.

Antonio's steps move toward the large sigil and press his palm against it. He keeps his gaze on me as I slug across the room. "La luna caerá esta noche." He declares. (The moon will fall tonight.)

He closes his eyes as he starts the ritual chanting a spell. The sigil is lit with a red glow, and it cascades upon the entire room. I can instantly feel it, the power circling the room. It's like pitchforks were drawn, and their sharp edges pointed at me with an accusatory finger, evil is here and it's you, is what it felt like.

I shook my head violently, I couldn't accept it. I couldn't accept this is how I was going to die. My hand slips as the floorboards shake by Antonio's will. He shouts, "How pathetic! What a disappointment you are, all you hold is your family name, but you hold no power! You're a disgrace."

His chants grow louder, and without blinking, suddenly my leg is forcibly pulled, and my back is slammed against the wall. My hands and legs are splayed out. Antonio brings his hands out, and blood trickles down my neck. I open and close my mouth as—a grueling drill runs down my leg. I look down at my torn pale tights and see crimson color staining them. But what scares me is three deep flesh claw marks on my right thigh. I sucked a breath in—fingers grasp my throat.

It's Antonio's fingers around my neck. Another claw-like nail pierces down my left arm, and I could hear the tearing of my sleeve as the sigil devours my skin. "You died a long time ago, I'm only finishing the job." My tongue bleeds again. 

All I could give him was an even stare, and his nostrils flared. "You're just a little girl who knows nothing but wishes upon the moon." He pulls out a flash of glittering silver and my eyes drift—my moon, my crescent moon. He holds the crescent moon Grimm gifted me.

My ears become numb to the shouts and chants, it all meshes together. I can't pay attention to him anymore. My gaze is fixated on my crescent moon. 

And as I look at it, I replay what Antonio has done to me. He kidnapped me. He made my head bleed. He weakened my body by throwing me into this room like an animal. He has choked me and is still doing it. Lastly, he has up against this wall tearing my flesh and soon my soul like I'm evil incarnated and you know what—an epiphany rose—I could be.

Rage licked my wounds and a volatile rupture occurred. The air tightened—Antonio's fingers slipped my throat. His eyes moved back and forth looking at the sigils, sparking like flames. He lifts his hands trying to hold onto his magic—my finger twitches and he breaks. My knees hit the floor. I quickly push my back into the wall and press my palms on the wall.

My magic comes down on my veins maliciously and impatiently. All sigils glow under my command. My lungs squeeze as if my entire being is pulled apart and pieced together at once. My hands tremble as I bring them out. Antonio's magic still lingers in the air. He pushes against my magic.

The room shakes like an earthquake is happening and I'm causing it.

"Give up and die!" He said.

I pant as every bone in my body channels dark magic. I understand it, but at the same time, I don't. The sigils are still attacking, tiny scratches appear on my hands. Maybe they're right for it, they can sense what's inside of me.

My voice comes out low and on the verge of losing all sanity. "Do you know—what happens when you leave a girl alone in the dark?" I bring my hands further out, fighting his magic. "They grow as evil does, and mine has been living—" I slightly bent a finger toward my head, "right here."

Blood starts spilling from my nose.

He snarls, "Eres una bruja del demonio!" (You're a demon witch!)

My fingers flex, and I overpower him. Antonio's body flings hard against the wall. He is in the same position he put me in, except now I deliver the pain a hundred times greater. The sigils scald, cut, and peel his skin.

He groans.

I bring my finger to my lips, "Shhh. Calladito te ves más bonito." (You look prettier when quiet.)

Fury sweeps him, but he can't do anything. My gaze sets on the crescent moon in his hand. I hastily limp over to him and rip my crescent moon from his hand. I cradle it, breathing easier.

I look at Antonio and lower my chin, "Esto es mio." (This is mine.)

And I clip the crescent moon into my hair and smile with my glittering red teeth. It looks like his eyes might come out of their sockets after all but as much as I would like to see that, I don't waste time going toward the door.

I twist the knob and open it.

And I don't look back. 

A/N: If I didn't translate something, I'm sorry. My brain is fried rn.