A CrazyLocoNews Original
Chapter 1: The Watchers in the Eaves
Outside the town of San Isidro, where the road ends and the desert begins, stood Hacienda de las Sombras—a sprawling estate wrapped in bougainvillea and silence. Its red-tiled roof was always watched. Not by guards, but by bats. Dozens of them, clinging like black seeds to the eaves, motionless by day, whispering through the night.
The locals called them omens. Raúl called them “Debora’s spies.”
Debora never denied it. Tall, sharp-eyed, with a voice that could calm stampedes or summon storms, she ruled the land with quiet authority. She’d driven off cattle thieves with nothing but a lantern and a stare. Some said she turned into a jaguar under the moon. Others claimed she spoke to the dead. But no one dared say it aloud—except Valeria.
“Don’t listen to them, Raúl,” she’d say, her fingers laced gently through his. “My sister protects us. She’s not evil—just… alone.”
Raúl believed her. How could he not? Valeria fed stray dogs, left flowers on graves, and sang old lullabies to the wind. If Debora was shadow, Valeria was dawn.
But tonight, the bats were silent. And watching something new.
Chapter 2: The Rite That Wasn’t Hers
Debora knew the exact hour the stars would align: midnight on the summer solstice, beneath the full moon’s eye. That was when she would perform the Rito de la Sombra Encadenada—a binding spell to trap a demon that had been poisoning wells and twisting minds across the valley.
She’d spent months preparing: carving sigils into the ceiba tree’s roots, collecting graveyard dirt, fasting, purifying. Every detail mattered. One misstep, and the demon wouldn’t be bound—it would be freed.
She told no one. Not even Valeria. Especially not Valeria.
But her sister had been watching. Not with magic—but with patience. She’d seen the hidden grimoire. Overheard whispered incantations. Noticed the way Debora’s eyes lingered on the moon.
Valeria didn’t understand the words. She couldn’t command spirits or shift her skin. But she understood timing. And sacrifice.
And she had a sacrifice of her own.
Chapter 3: The Angel’s Gambit
On the night of the solstice, Valeria took Raúl’s hand. “There’s a place I want to show you,” she said, eyes bright with innocence. “Just us. Under the moon.”
He followed without question.
In the clearing, she tied him gently to the ceiba tree. “It’s part of a surprise,” she whispered, kissing his forehead. “Close your eyes, mi amor. Trust me.”
He did.
Then she lit the black candles Debora had placed days earlier. She traced the same symbols—but backwards. She didn’t chant the binding. She offered a new plea: Take me. Make me mother to your heir. Let my blood carry your name.
She didn’t need power. She only needed access.
And Debora had built the door.
Above, the bats circled—but none landed. They knew this rite was stolen.
Chapter 4: The Sister Who Roared
Debora woke with a gasp. Her bone pendant—cold as a grave. The air tasted of burnt honey and lies.
She ran to Raúl’s room. Empty.
Then she saw the trail: crushed marigolds, a dropped rosary, footprints leading into the Black Woods.
Fur erupted. Bones cracked. In seconds, a black jaguar exploded into the night.
When she reached the clearing, time stopped.
Raúl bound.
Valeria in white, arms raised, voice trembling with ecstasy.
And above her—the vortex forming, teeth unspooling from smoke.
“VALERIA!” Debora shifted back mid-leap, voice raw. “That’s my rite!”
Her sister turned, serene. “I know. That’s why it works.”
Chapter 5: The Child Who Wore Light
Debora didn’t hesitate. She tore through the corrupted circle with ancestral words, her voice cracking the sky. The demon howled, recoiling—not from Valeria’s plea, but from Debora’s wrath.
The vortex collapsed. Raúl’s ropes burned away.
Silence fell, thick as burial cloth.
Debora staggered forward. “You… you don’t even know what you did. You can’t control it. You’d have birthed a plague!”
Valeria smiled, untouched. “I don’t want to control it, hermana. I want to carry it.”
Debora stared at the girl who’d shared her bed, her bread, her childhood. The one she’d shielded from every storm.
“I protected you,” she whispered.
“And I protected us,” Valeria replied softly. “From being forgotten.”
Debora sealed the grimoire in iron that night. She never performed another rite.
Raúl left the next morning, pale and silent.
Valeria never left.
She still walks the gardens at dusk, humming old songs. The workers say she’s kind. Generous. An angel.
But the bats?
They never roost near the chapel anymore.
And on solstice nights, if you listen closely…
you’ll hear two voices in the wind.
One begging for mercy.
The other laughing.
THE END
