After about four or five hours on the highway, with the throaty roar of the Ford Mustang's engine as their only soundtrack, they finally reached their destination.
However, as soon as they crossed the county line and entered the vicinity of the picturesque and historic town of Salem, the atmosphere changed radically.
All three of them sensed it instantly. The cool, ordinary breeze from the highway vanished, replaced by a strangely dense air. Everything around them suddenly felt heavy and suffocating, as if an ancient, invisible presence, laden with dark residual magic, had taken permanent residence there.
Aurelian stopped humming. He narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip on the steering wheel as he analyzed the energy in the air. It didn't take long for his mind to reach a conclusion: perhaps, after all, the warnings from his wives' mother, Selene Carrow, about the curse of this land held some truth.
He drove a few more meters and decided to pull over briefly to the side of the main street to catch his breath and assess the situation.
No sooner had they stepped out of the car to stretch their legs than Flora crossed her arms, rubbing her skin as a chill ran through her entire body.
"See, I was right," Flora declared, looking at her husband with a mixture of triumph and caution. "My mother's stories weren't exaggerations. This place is definitely cursed."
Hestia, on the other hand, didn't seem scared at all. She took a deep breath of the village air, and a sharp, excited smile spread across her lips.
"I think this energy adds a much more interesting twist to the outing," Hestia remarked, her eyes shining with that dark fascination she had for anything related to black magic. "It's… exhilarating."
Aurelian leaned against the hood of the Mustang, adopting a much more serious posture than the relaxed attitude he'd maintained during the trip.
"Be that as it may, this changes things," Aurelian warned them, looking at both of them sternly. "I want you to be extremely cautious as we walk through town. Stay close together and pay close attention to everything around you. Don't trust anything that seems out of place—is that clear?"
Hestia and Flora, recognizing their husband's tone, nodded solemnly, promising to obey. They got back into the car in search of a decent and safe place to stay.
Hours later, after settling in and leaving their luggage at the best hotel in Salem, they went out to explore. They walked leisurely toward a specific spot that the hotel owner—a rather talkative Muggle—had pointed out to them as the historic site where the infamous witch trials took place.
Aurelian walked in the middle, smiling calmly as he made his way through the streets, holding his two wives' hands firmly.
To his right, Hestia smiled broadly, observing the town's architecture, the "magic" shops, and the passersby with fascination. To his left, Flora was also smiling but was more cautious; her eyes scanned every corner, every alley, and every person passing by, making sure everything was all right.
"Hey, my love," Hestia began, gently shaking Aurelian's hand, "do you know exactly where that famous school of witchcraft everyone was talking about is? The Salem Institute."
Aurelian shook his head, without stopping to walk.
"I haven't the faintest idea, Hestia. It's probably hidden under who knows how many Muggle-repelling spells, just like Hogwarts. We'll have to investigate more thoroughly if we want to find it."
Finally, they left the town's streets behind and arrived at what appeared to be an old, forgotten cemetery.
They knew immediately that the hotel owner had told them the truth and had led them to the right place. The heaviness in the air—that oppressive feeling they'd sensed upon arriving in town—was ten times stronger in this place. The residual magic here revealed the pain and despair endured by those who were unjustly killed so many years ago.
The landscape was desolate. The trees there were towering, but they looked completely dead; they didn't have a single leaf, and their thick, dry branches reached toward the gray sky as if they were fingers pleading for a little mercy.
Feeling the weight of the place, Hestia and Flora's instincts drove them to act. Immediately, they both closed the distance and pressed themselves tightly against either side of their husband, seeking the security he provided as they made their way toward the center of the cemetery.
When they reached the central clearing, they came to a sudden halt.
Before them stood a striking monument made entirely of bronze. It depicted seven women kneeling on the ground, their heads bowed and their hands clasped in a clear gesture of supplication and agony. The ages of the figures were heart-wrenchingly varied: one of the statues seemed to depict a little girl barely ten years old; another, a teenager of about fifteen; the next, a woman in her thirties; and the last, an elderly woman, frail and bent under the weight of her chains.
Silence enveloped them.
Hestia and Flora stared at the statues with horror and revulsion. The hatred for non-magical people, instilled in them from birth, burned with renewed intensity in their hearts as they saw the graphic depiction of the atrocities that humans without magic were capable of committing against their own kind.
"Muggles are horrible…" whispered Hestia, her voice trembling slightly with the revulsion she felt at that moment.
"They're true monsters and savages," agreed Flora, squeezing Aurelian's hand tightly.
Aurelian said nothing. He stood there in silence, with his wives clinging to his arms while his eyes stared intently at the monument.
Aurelian understood human nature better than anyone. He knew that Muggles were not inherently monsters, but creatures terrified by what they could not comprehend.
"Human fear," Aurelian thought to himself, feeling the echo of the pain of the dead in the cemetery. "Fear may be humanity's greatest driving force. It has the power to lift a man up and lead him to commit the noblest acts, but it also has the power to drag him through the filthiest mud and turn him into a perpetrator of genocide."
Lost in their thoughts, they didn't notice their surroundings until it was too late, and the solemn, heavy silence of the cemetery was abruptly shattered.
A harsh, shrill, and eerie caw echoed through the clearing. Out of nowhere, a raven dove from the sky and landed directly on the head of the statue of the elderly woman.
The sound and movement startled all three of them, shattering the bubble they had been in.
Before Aurelian could even raise his hand to shoo the bird away, the sound multiplied. It was no longer just one crow; a moment later there were two, then three, then ten, then fifty. The flapping of hundreds of wings filled the air.
Aurelian turned his head, surveying his surroundings with his senses on high alert. All the trees around him, which just a moment ago had only bare branches, were now completely covered. On every branch, every trunk, and every gravestone in the cemetery, a crow was perched, staring at them in complete silence.
The atmosphere went from tense to a full-blown nightmare.
Terror seeped through the twins. The madness and the unnatural nature of the situation overwhelmed them. Hestia and Flora clung to Aurelian's arms even tighter, digging their fingers into his coat.
"Aurelian," Hestia whispered, with obvious, palpable fear in her voice.
"Aurelian, get us out of here," Flora murmured, trembling slightly against his side.
Just then, from among the immense flock of birds, a raven that was considerably larger than the rest descended. Its feathers seemed to absorb the faint sunlight, and when it landed on the central statue right in front of them, it revealed unnaturally bright, blood-red eyes.
The enormous raven completely ignored the twins and fixed its crimson gaze solely on Aurelian's eyes.
With a movement that seemed almost human, the bird tilted its head in a sinister manner, opened its beak, and instead of a caw, emitted a raspy, chilling voice.
"Touched by death," screamed the red-eyed raven, its voice reverberating with a macabre echo.
"Touched by death!" it repeated ceaselessly.
As if on a direct command, the thousands of ravens in the trees opened their beaks and began to scream in unison.
"Touched by death! Touched by death! Touched by death! Touched by death! Touched by death!"
The din was so overwhelming and unsettling that Hestia and Flora, dazed by the noise and panic, made a fatal mistake. As they raised their hands to their ears, trying to block out the deafening chant, they let go of Aurelian's arms.
They moved away from him by barely a meter. Just one second. An insignificant fraction of a second.
But it was enough time for what was about to happen.
The cursed earth beneath their feet roared. Without warning, the ground of the cemetery suddenly split open as if it were the jaws of a beast. The earth split into three circular cracks directly beneath each of them.
Feeling the ground vanish beneath him, Aurelian desperately reached out with his arms.
"Hestia! Flora!" he roared, trying to reach them.
"Aurelian!" the girls screamed in unison, reaching out toward him in terror.
Their fingers barely brushed the air before the pit claimed them. The three of them fell through different holes, swallowed by the darkness of the earth as the hole above them snapped shut, silencing the crows' cawing.
Aurelian was falling at a dizzying speed. The tunnel was pitch black; he couldn't see a thing, not even the palm of his own hand. The air sliced across his face as the sensation of free fall churned his stomach. He tried to pull out his wand, tried to use magic to levitate, but something in the darkness nullified his magic.
Until the tunnel ended.
CRACK!
Aurelian slammed violently into the ground. The impact knocked the wind out of his lungs, and a sharp pain shot through his shoulder and back. He lay there for a couple of seconds, coughing and struggling to catch his breath in the dim light.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to get up. He brushed the dust off his clothes, summoned his elder wand—which, fortunately, was now responding to his magic again—and muttered "Lumos."
As he surveyed his surroundings, illuminated by the light at the tip of his wand, Aurelian was perplexed.
He wasn't in an underground cavern, nor in catacombs, nor in the damp earth one would expect to find beneath a cemetery. He seemed to be inside a house.
The walls were covered with faded, torn wallpaper; the floor was made of thick wood that creaked under his weight because it was so old; and there was furniture covered with sheets all around him. The way he'd gotten there left him baffled; falling through a tunnel in a cemetery and landing inside a gloomy wooden house defied all the laws of magic.
But the confusion didn't last long. It was replaced almost instantly by fierce anguish.
Images of Hestia and Flora flooded his mind.
Aurelian clenched his jaw. He knew full well that his wives were strong. They were two of the most lethal, ruthless, and powerful witches in the entire world, capable of tearing almost any threat that crossed their path to shreds. He knew they could surely defend themselves until he found them.
But… they were his wives. They were his family, his entire world. The mere thought of them being frightened or in danger in an unknown place consumed him from within. He would always worry about them, no matter how powerful they were.
With his wand raised high and his gaze burning with fury, Aurelian began to walk through the dark, silent place. Each step on the wooden floor echoed like a death sentence.
He began to curse under his breath, whispering promises of destruction against the being, spirit, entity, or bastard who had dared to bring him there and separate him from his wives.
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