LONDON, ENGLAND - 1659

The Barlowe family curse is a curse that not many people know about...

It all started in 17th century London, when John Barlowe, a wealthy businessman, had started to see red. John found the existence of witches despicable. He was convinced that all should burn, which he made sure of.

In the year 1659, John had caused the death of over 50 witches. He was working on a new case, not wanting to stop what he was doing.

The case he was working on was a blood witch who had housed herself in the deep dark woods somewhere in Ireland. John had heard that this witch was particularly dangerous, still, his hatred drove him more than his conscience.

He made the trip to Ireland, leaving his pregnant wife and son Lucas behind, and started to search for the witch. He found her after a long trip through a forest that the locals called "the eternal night" because the big looming trees covered any ray of sunshine before it could reach the ground.

The witch's hut was small and overgrown. As he came closer he could feel himself getting drowsy. In his head, he heard a voice, but it was not his own.

"You have been looking for me, John Barlowe, and I have been waiting for you"

His body began moving on his own, proceeding into the hut after the door opened by itself and when he arrived inside, still unable to move his body or speak his mind, the door shut quickly by itself after him.

The hut was seemingly empty, apart from a small fire that was burning in the wreath.

In the blink of an eye, the witch stood in front of his unmoving body.

She was terrifyingly beautiful; with long dark unruly hair and skin so pale you would assume she was dying. John pushed those thoughts out of his mind and made space for red-hot hatred towards the witch.

The witch calmly walked over to the wreath, where a small chair appeared out of thin air, and she sat herself on it. With a wave of her hand, all the candles around the room suddenly became alit. Then she began to talk out loud;

"Do you, John Barlow, recognise the name Bethany Baker?" she asked him almost too calmly like she was trying not to break him right in a second.

John did not know Bethany Baker. He was sure he had never met anyone named Bethany Baker.

"She had fiery red hair, as red as the blood running through your veins right at this moment. She had the most beautiful freckles that were like the constellations in the skies. She was the kindest soul I had ever met," the witch explained, the anger in her tone rising with each sentence.

"She was my soulmate, and I loved her with every bit of my existence!" the witch spat towards John, venom dripping off of her words.

The witch took a step towards John, making eye contact as she sneered the next words at him.

"And you, John, you killed her!"

"And for that, for taking my love away from me, I will make you face a fate worse than death."

Suddenly, everything went dark for John. The last words he heard before he completely lost his consciousness in front of the wrath of a revengeful witch were whispered in his mind, her voice making home there.

"You will remember the name Ravenna as the name of the woman who defeated you and who will haunt you forever." 

......

John Barlowe had woken up just outside of the dark forest in Ireland, thinking he narrowly escaped death. He couldn't find anything physically wrong with himself, so he made the trip back to London where his wife Agatha and his son Lucas were anxiously waiting on his arrival back from the trip.

His wife was now only a few months away from giving birth to their second child. It had been a harsh pregnancy for Agatha, especially because her husband was not there to support her.

On a cold faithful night in the winter of 1659, the labours of Agatha began. John was awoken by his wife screaming in pain.

The maids and midwife quickly arrived and helped her get comfortable in the bedroom and sent John out as it was bad luck to have the husband be in the room while his wife was giving birth.

After a couple of hours, deep into the morning, Agatha's screaming ceased and a new crying took its place.

John rushed into their shared bedroom and quickly found his new son in the arms of the midwife. Happiness came over him, as he looked at his newborn, his little Louis.

When he looked away from his son towards his wife, the happiness was instantly gone. 

There his wife lay, bloodied, pale with her eyes open and no breath left in her chest. 

She was dead.

His wife had given her life for her son.

In his head, a voice whispered like a memory that he forgot about and said; "You take away my love and I shall take away yours."

......

Grief consumed John Barlowe the following months, the loss of his wife taking a great toll on him. It seemed Ravenna had finally given what she had promised.

After months of not speaking to any of his children, on the first sunny day in March, when the sunshine shone through the windows of Barlowe House for the first time in months, John felt the urge to see his youngest.

He walked towards the nursery as if in a trance, drawn to the little crib in the middle of the room.

His son had grown since the last time John had held him. He looked towards his son, who looked healthy, except for the fact that he looked so pale he could be sick, but the nurse who took care of his son said that Louis always had looked like that.

The sunshine shone through the window in front of the crib. John looked out the window to the garden, where little Lucas was riding on the neck of the maid who took care of him.

Suddenly, John was startled by a bird flying against the window.

The black raven gathered himself and set himself on the windowsill.

The bird stared intensely at John, who felt himself become locked within the raven's eyes.

Then, the recognisable whisper that haunted his memories began to talk inside his mind again.

"Be sure to always have your attention on your second child, one blink or look away and he might just be gone," the voice of Ravenna whispered menacingly. The bird in the windowsill cawed and flew away quickly.

John quickly realised his youngest son was gone and frantically began looking around the room.

But as soon as his son was gone, little Louis was back in his crib, giggling as he made the plush teddy bear he slept with float.

......

The Barlowe family curse started with John Barlowe, but it did not end with him. 

Every generation of Barlowe's carried the curse with them and was haunted by it.

Every second child of the Barlowe family was haunted by the curse that started with Louis.

Every Barlowe that birthed a second child gave her life for that child.

Every descendent of John Barlowe was born with magical blood.

Of course, generations of the Barlowe family began avoiding the curse by not having a second child, but of course, accidents happen.

Katherine Lucy Barlowe was one of those accidents.

......

word count: 1240

pip talks!

hello, lovelies! this is a little backstory for the fic. I hope this information made sense, and if not, let me know so I can explain! as always if you encounter any spelling mistakes at all please let me know so I can fix them! the first draft I made for this actually didn't save and I had to write it all over again :( I hope you enjoy <3