ASHWOOD

Chapter one

The sound of drums and trumpets filled the air as the citizens of Ashwood paraded through the streets, celebrating the Luminaria Festival. This joyous occasion was said to bring love and light to the people, earning it the nickname "Festival of Love and Light." However, few knew the dark secrets lurking beneath the surface.

The French Quarter, once home to the powerful Nox coven of witches, now held a somber atmosphere. Many of its warlocks and witches had lost their lives, leaving only a handful to carry on the traditions. As a result, the French Quarter was one of the last places in Ashwood to embrace the festival.

Amidst the celebrations, a voice rang out from the Khaos House, a small, unassuming building on Downfall Street.

"No way I'm wearing that again this year. I'm not even Mexican," Elian protested, his voice laced with frustration.

"Soledad, his nanny, gazed at him with eyes that crinkled at the corners, wise and knowing.

'Tienes que ponértelo, Eliano,' she said, her voice a gentle mix of English and Spanish. 'Es para protegerte de la oscuridad.' (You have to wear it, Eliano. It's to protect you from the darkness.) She forced the sombrero onto his head, rearranging his curls with a loving touch. Stepping back, she gave him a proud look, saying, 'Hermoso' (Beautiful).

Elian scoffed, feeling embarrassed. He hated being the only one to wear the sombrero on this day, which Soledad believed would protect him. He had always wondered why his school allowed it, never questioning him about it. Throughout his education, not a single teacher had asked him why he wore the sombrero, as if it was a silent understanding.

Soledad could see the embarrassment written all over Elian's face. She knew he didn't like wearing the sombrero, and if it were up to her, she wouldn't force him to wear it either. But she also knew about the dangers of being born into the Nox coven, and as she believed, Elian might be the last surviving wizard, making him a target. "No te enojes, Eliano," she said, pulling his cheek and sending him off to school with a gentle push. "Vete, m'ijo."

Elian had barely stepped out of the house when Soledad called him back, "Eli!" He turned to her, and she said, "Regresa antes de las seis, ¿entiendes?" (Come back before six, you understand?) Her voice was laced with a thick Mexican accent, the "r" rolling off her tongue like a gentle rumble.

Elian nodded, recognizing the familiar phrase Soledad uttered every year. Though he still struggled to pronounce the words, he understood their meaning. As he left, Soledad's face transformed from warmth to worry, her eyes clouding with fear. She fretted about Elian's safety, her mind racing with the thought of failing to protect him.

With a sense of urgency, Soledad locked the door and hastened down to the basement, a place she had always kept off-limits to Elian. Her wrinkled, aged hands, which had cared for the boy for so long, trembled as she opened a small lockbox. Inside, a faded family photo revealed Khaos holding baby Elian, with Lady Ashley standing beside them, smiling at the infant. The old, worn image seemed to hold secrets of its own.

Soledad swiftly lit a candle and rushed to the altar at the far end of the basement. With a flick of the match, the darkness was illuminated, and she knelt before the altar, offering a fervent prayer: "Oh gran poder, protégelo" (Oh great power, protect him). Her heart raced as she began to meditate, her thoughts consumed by the weight of her responsibilities.

Elian stepped into Ashwood High, a school that proudly embraced diversity. As he entered the school field, his heart raced with anxiety, and it only intensified as he walked into the bustling hallway. The sea of students, all engrossed in their own worlds, seemed to magnify his discomfort. He felt like all eyes were on him, even though no one was actually paying attention. The weight of his sombrero, which he had worn for 12 years on this day, felt heavier than ever.

Just as he was struggling to find his footing, Allison approached him with a warm smile. "Nice hat," she said, opening her locker. Her compliment was genuine, but Elian couldn't shake off the feeling that she was just being kind, as she always was, even when he made questionable choices. "Thanks," he replied, opening his locker, his voice barely above a whisper.

Allison noticed his discomfort and tried to reassure him. "It's getting better on you, the more you grow. I can remember it covering your face," she said with a chuckle. Elian forced a smile, adjusting the sombrero on his head, but before he could relax, Tyson Manson, a blond, tall jock, snatched the sombrero from his head.

"Attention, everyone!" Tyson boomed, his voice echoing through the hallway, as he placed the sombrero on his own head. "Look what we have here!"

Elian turned to see Tyson wearing his sombrero, his eyes widening in embarrassment as the crowd snickered. "Nice hat!" Tyson jeered, "How do I look? A proper Mexican, right? Except, I'm not!" His mocking tone only added to Elian's mortification.

Just as Elian thought things couldn't get worse, Lawrence, a lanky boy with piercing blue eyes and a chiseled jawline, swooped in and snatched the sombrero from Tyson's head. "I'll take that, thank you," Lawrence said, his voice firm and authoritative, with a hint of British accent. He handed the hat back to Elian, then turned to face Tyson, whose eyes blazed with anger at the challenge.

"Today's Luminaria, love is supposed to be in the air," Lawrence said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But I suppose you can't exactly spread love when you're lacking in that department, can you, Tyson? You're not exactly renowned for your...tender feelings, are you?"

The crowd stared, some snickering at Tyson's expense, as Lawrence's words cut through the tension like a sharp wit.

Just then, Tyson lifted Lawrence up in rage, his face red with anger. Elian's eyes flashed with shock, but he knew his options were limited. He wouldn't stand a chance against Tyson, especially since Tyson's parents were wealthy and influential - or so Elian believed. All Elian could do was watch in horror as his friend was lifted up like a sack of trash.

"I'll show you the kind of love I can give," Tyson sneered, as he slammed Lawrence into the locker with a loud bang. The whole crowd winced in pain, while Elian couldn't help but curse Soledad for convincing him to wear the sombrero. If only he hadn't worn it, Tyson wouldn't have mocked him, and all this could have been avoided.

But Tyson wasn't done yet. He picked Lawrence up again, as if the first time wasn't enough. "Happy Luxoria," Tyson said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, as he slammed Lawrence into the locker once more, leaving him dangling halfway. "Hope this love is enough," Tyson asked, his tone mocking. "Do you need more?"

Lawrence let out a sly smile. "Sorry, mate," he said, "but this is going to hurt!" With all his might, he swung his legs, aiming for Tyson's groin.

The crowd let out a collective "ouch" as Lawrence's kick connected, and Tyson doubled over in pain, his hands clutching his groin.

Lawrence dropped to the ground, and without thinking twice, knowing what he did, he took to his feet, shouting to his friend Elian, who was still trying to analyze all that had just happened.

"Run!" Lawrence shouted as he took off. Elian didn't give it much thought; he ran as fast as his legs could carry him out of the hallway. Despite knowing Tyson wasn't chasing him, maybe he felt running might save him from the embarrassment. His mind raced with thoughts of what had happened and how to explain it to the school authorities if they found out.

As he ran, he didn't see the figure approaching and collided with him, causing both boys to fall. Elian's sombrero landed in another part of the field, and some boys playing soccer ran over it, not only staining it but also destroying the intricate designs and black beads dangling from it.

"So sorry," Elian said as he stood up, dusting himself off. The other boy, Lucien, was even dirtier, as he was wearing white. Elian took note and said again, "So sorry."

Lucien gave him a sincere and bright smile as he stood up, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. His chiseled features and strong jawline made him look like a model, and his messy brown hair added to his charm.

"It's okay," Lucien said, cleaning himself from the dust.

"I can help you wash that if you don't mind," Elian said, noticing how badly Lucien's white clothing was stained. He felt guilty and embarrassed, so offering to help was his way of sincerely apologizing.

"There won't be a need for that," Lucien said with a smile, his eyes sparkling with kindness.

Just then, Elian's eyes darted to his sombrero.

"s**t!" he exclaimed as he ran to pick it up from the floor.

Lucien watched him, his smile still on his face. Then, he noticed the panic on Elian's face and couldn't help but feel the need to know what was wrong. So, he walked over to Elian.

"You do like to run, don't you?" Lucien said as he approached. Lucien's eyes met with his sombrero. "Nice sombrero," Lucien said sincerely.

And Elian couldn't help but steal a glance at Lucien. This was the first compliment in the whole of 12 years that made him feel proud about his sombrero. Maybe it was because it was coming from someone attractive.

"Nice designs," Lucien said, as he leaned closer to observe. "The beads are protection beads, aren't they?"

Elian was taken aback by the question; this dude was starting to sound like his nanny. And it just hit him differently, seeing an attractive person believing in this "stupid stuff."

"What're you into, voodoo?" Elian asked, trying to sound sarcastic.

Lucien smiled as he took the sombrero from his hands. "It's fake," Lucien said, "you don't do the real stuff, then." Lucien added, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"That's not mine... And what real stuff?" Lucien didn't reply; he gave Elian a long, piercing stare, silent but smiling.

"What real stuff?" Elian asked again, his curiosity piqued.

But Lucien just smiled and said, "I don't want to punish you by telling you. Save your innocence." Lucien's eyes moved around, spotting the broken beads. "This is why you were worried, right?" he guessed correctly. "I'll help fix it."

Elian stared at the boy in front of him, surprised by his offer. "You're not Mexican," he said, stating the obvious. "That's right," Lucien replied. "Meet me at two, and I'll have your sombrero ready for you." With a smile, Lucien started heading off.

Elian watched him walk a distance before realizing he didn't know the stranger's name or where to meet him. He took off after Lucien, sprinting to catch up. But his run was cut short when he saw Tyson heading towards Lucien. As Tyson and the stranger exchanged informal greetings and talked, Elian couldn't help but avoid the scene, knowing what Tyson was capable of. Everything had gone too wrong that morning, and he didn't want more drama.

Closing hour came, and as students went home, Lawrence and Elian had to stay back for detention due to the morning's incident. Elian couldn't help but wonder how quickly things had gone wrong and how Tyson had managed to pin the blame on Lawrence and him. In all his years of wearing the sombrero on the day of the Luminaria festival, this was the first time the school had a problem with it. They had told him it was unacceptable, despite the fact that he always wore it at this time of year every year. So why was this year different? Maybe Soledad had forgotten to bribe the authorities to let him wear it, he wondered.

6 o'clock came soon, and detention was over. Lawrence and Elian left the classroom in relief. As they stepped out, they saw Allison waiting.

"Tyson's a d**k," she said.

"Do tell us something we don't already know," Lawrence said, his British accent evident as they started heading out of the school.

Elian was following them when he suddenly remembered his sombrero. "My sombrero!" he exclaimed. "s**t, Soledad's going to panic!"

Lawrence and Allison exchanged a look, unable to understand why Soledad would panic over a missing sombrero when it's easy to get one in Ashwood. "I need to get it," Elian said, "you guys wait here.

" He ran back into the school, with Allison and Lawrence following behind him.

He sprinted through the hallway, scouring classrooms and scaling stairs in a frantic search.

"Why on earth did you leave it with him?" Lawrence asked, exasperated, as they descended the stairs, having combed the entire school. The worry etched on Elian's face was palpable.

"s**t!" he exclaimed, bitter frustration evident in his tone. "Just calm down and think where you might have left it," Allison suggested.

"I gave it to that strange dude. He looked new, and I have no idea where to meet him." Elian exclaimed, berating himself for his foolishness. "What am I going to tell Soledad?"

Lawrence and Allison could only stare at him, unsure of what to say or do.

Meanwhile, as the trio thought of a way of finding this stranger. The French Quarter district was bathed in darkness, despite being one of the last places to receive sunlight. Soledad sat still, meditating, unmoving and unsustained by food or drink all day.

This was a sacrifice she made every year since Elian was five and his parents were killed. She had protected him not only by keeping the truth from him but also by suppressing his magic through meditation. This ensured Elian wouldn't discover his true identity or inadvertently reveal that a wizard from the Nox Coven still lived. So, she repeated the same mantras all day, until Elian returned home. Unbeknownst to the kind Mexican woman, things were about to take a drastic turn.

The candle ominously went out, despite no breeze entering the basement. She could hear thunder crackling outside, the earth signaling something sinister was about to unfold. Her eyes snapped open as she rushed out of the basement. Heavy rainfall pounded outside, the earth screaming in protest. She picked up her phone and tried to call Elian, but his number was unreachable. Determined, she grabbed an umbrella and headed into the night, braving the stormy streets in search of Elian. "Eli," she sighed, her voice laced with worry.

Soledad knew precisely where she was headed, her search guided by a clear purpose. She was well aware of the risks, and so she navigated the streets with caution, avoiding the robed figures in white who seemed to lurk around every corner. Her destination was a small cottage on Cyanthrope Street, nestled in the heart of the Bayou district. She had almost reached the door when a sudden hand grasped her neck from behind, rendering her unconscious.