Bound by Charmed Shadows

By Ricky Balona

In "Bound by Charmed Shadows," the unsuspecting novice witch Kristy inadvertently releases the demon Romulus from his century-long confinement. Protected by an invisible barrier, Kristy remains oblivious to the chaos as Romulus wreaks havoc. Meanwhile, Romulus, intrigued by Kristy's resilience, acclimates to the modern world and encounters her unexpectedly.

As Kristy seeks solace in her tarot cards, reflecting on her past and present, Romulus attempts to manipulate her emotions while she frantically searches for a banishing spell. Despite their initial animosity, a tentative bond forms between them as they confront their inner demons and face the challenges ahead.

Their journey takes them through treacherous terrain, eerie mansions, and ancient rituals as they confront dark forces and sinister plots. Along the way, they uncover secrets of their past lives and forge a bond stronger than any spell. Despite facing betrayal and danger, will Kristy and Romulus emerge victorious, ready to embrace a future together free from the shadows of their past?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ricky Balona
• Release date: Jun 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227720009

Ricky Balona

Ricky Balona is the author of hard hitting and graphic military fiction novels. Steele is a military fiction series centered on the character Sergeant Steele. It charts Steele's experience as a Templar during the Crusades where he is cursed to an eternity of military servitude. We follow Sergeant Steele's battles in the French Foreign Legion, all based on some of the Legion's most epic and bloody battles. French Foreign Legion Adventures is collection of short stories beginning with the Legion's involvement in the Crimean war through the North African desert era, W.W.1 and W.W.2 through Indochina and Kolwezi and Sarajevo. Written from a simple soldiers point of view caught up in merciless combat using the names of fellow Legionnaires I had the honour of serving with as the characters in the stories. Ricky Balona was born in South Africa, now living in Queenstown, New Zealand. Served in 1 Para S.A.D.F and 5 years in 2 Parachute Regiment of the French Foreign Legion. Author of By Blood Spilt series Steele's Dien Bien Phu, Steele's Verdun and Steele's Death March. Show More Show Less

Book preview

Chapter 1

The room’s atmosphere shifted as the as the temperature steadily rose, casting an eerie glow as flames danced higher from the five yellow candles meticulously placed at the cardinal points of the pentagram drawn onto the floorboards. The crackling of the fire intertwined with the faint scent of burning wax, creating an almost hypnotic ambiance within the space. Shadows danced on the walls, their movements becoming more pronounced as the flames grew in intensity.

The pentagram, its lines drawn with precision, seemed to emanate an energy of its own, pulsing with an otherworldly power of its own. As the warmth enveloped the room, a sense of anticipation hung in the air, as if the convergence of the candles and the pentagram held a secret yet to be revealed.

A sulphur cloud bubbled from the surface of the black marble slab used by the witch as a makeshift altar in the centre of the pentagram. Unpleasant fumes filled the air, masking the sweet scent of sandalwoods incense burning on a holder to the right of the altar.

Hot lava gushed upward. It transformed into a thousand flickering, flaming missiles as it collided with the ceiling fan, spraying the room with a multitude of embers. They clung to the curtains and the rug on the floor. Blue flames spread across the ceiling and descended swiftly, encompassing the room in an inferno like prison.

Through the dark clouds of smoke that hung densely in the acrid air, came the sounds of scurrying feet and beating wings. A hundred pairs of barely perceivable eyes pierced the veil of darkness.

Emerging from the confines of the lead-lined bottle, I erupted with billowing smoke, molten lava and blazing flames, casting an air of chaos and destruction that swirled through the room. After an agonising one hundred and thirty-five years of captivity, my thirst for revenge and mayhem was insatiable.

With calculated precision, I positioned myself in the room, my back deliberately turned toward the unwitting witch who had dared to release me from my prison. The anticipation of the impending shock and terror in their eyes fuelled my malevolent delight. As the room crackled with my fiery presence, the atmosphere was ripe for the most dramatic of entrances.

The world outside was now my playground. The threads of destiny and chaos were now mine to weave together in a tapestry of destruction.

The horde of garden variety Imps, under my command, flapped their wings with frantic energy, creating a deafening cacophony that reverberated throughout the cramped dwelling. The intensity of their combined efforts reached a deafening crescendo, sending shivers of delight down my spine as their malevolent energy swirled around me.

With a calculated move, I shifted my form into a manifestation visible to the human eye. This transformation was a theatrical transformation which often left the unsuspecting witch witless, shitless, or both. The shock of my sudden visibility was usually enough to instil sheer terror.

The novice witch or sorcerer, once so eager to tap into forbidden forces, would find themselves overwhelmed by a primal urge to flee. Sometimes, as I made my grand entrance, the summoner’s courage collapsed under the weight of my intense, hotter-than-hell atmospheric pressure. The very air became charged with an infernal energy, my release causing a surge of power that was intoxicating as it was terrifying. It was in those moments that even the most idiotic of mortals recognised the enormity of their mistake.

Taking on the form of an imposing eight-foot demon with piercing yellow eyes, I whirled round with an air of malevolent anticipation. My arms stretched wide, ready to strike at my hapless victim, I relished the prospect of unleashing a terror that would haunt their nightmares.

As the tension mounted, I let loose a bone-chilling, blood-curdling scream that echoed through the air. The very atmosphere seemed to quiver in response to my sinister presence.

With calculated deliberation, I took a single menacing step forward, my footfall a promise of impending dread. The swirling pall of smoke enveloped me, enhancing the dramatic effect as I prepared to seize the moment and plunge my victim into a living nightmare.

But then, inexplicitly, nothing. An eerie stillness settled over the scene, the anticipation hanging suspended in the air like a weighted shroud.

Confusion and frustration gripped me as I grappled with this unexpected turn of events. Had my malevolent charm failed to take hold? Had the victim’s resolve proven stronger than I had anticipated? As I stood there frozen in my monstrous form, the very essence of anticipation and chaos, I could not help but feel a flicker of unease.

I spun around, duplicating my dramatic entrance once more, the flicker of flames casting dancing figures across the room’s worn walls. Yet, despite the mesmerizing illusions I had conjured, the room remained eerily vacant. My instincts, honed over countless supernatural encounters, flared like a warning signal. I was not alone.

Beating my wings with a rush of air, I cleared away the lingering smoke that clung to the air like a shroud. I caught a tantalizing glimpse of a figure. A young girl, her sandy blonde hair glittering like gold under the low light, sat with an air of serenity on the balcony outside. In one delicate hand she held a glass of deep red wine, the liquid shimmering like rubies in the moon’s faint glow.

My grand entrance into the world of humans is an immense anti-climax. One hundred and thirty-five years I had impatiently waited for this moment! Locked away in a perfumed jar, my existence had been nothing but a swirling haze of anticipation and longing. My dreams intertwined with the scent of roses and the whispers of human life. Each moment stretching like an eternity. And now, I became free to enter the world of humans as the spell broke. If the clueless novice witch, the unwitting key to my release, decided to turn around, our fates would become forever entwined.

A seething anger boiled within me, fuelled by her complete lack of situational awareness. She would pay dearly for her insolence, for tampering with forces beyond her understanding. And to top it all, my eyes were burning from the smoke that had filled the room during my dramatic entrance.

My wings beat with an almost frenzied energy, the rush of air clearing the room of the thick smoke that had filled it moments ago. As the air cleared, my wings continued their swift movements, and in my haste, I inadvertently set off a whirlwind that sent a stack of magazines, bottles of condiments and an array of garments spiralling across the room. The room seemed to come alive with motion as the magazines fluttered like leaves in the wind, the condiment bottles teetered on the brink of chaos and the garments danced a wild tango.

With a mixture of surprise and amusement, I watched as the bottles of ketchup, mayonnaise, and honey found themselves caught up in my tempestuous current. In a burst of emotion, I redirected my wind, causing the bottles to crash against the far wall with a satisfying smash. The impact shattered the glass containers, and their contents erupted in a colourful explosion, showering the heaps of clothes on the floor in a sticky, gooey mess.

Launching myself toward her back, my entire being propelled by a surge of determination, I stretched out my arms, fingers elongated into sharp claws poised to strike. My teeth bared in a feral snarl, ready to pierce flesh and savour the taste of victory. The thrill of vengeance surged through me, overwhelming any remnants of hesitation or doubt.

But then, as I launched myself forward, an unexpected event abruptly interrupted the moment of triumph. Whack! I slammed into an unseen barrier with a force that sent shockwaves through my entire being. The impact was jarring, a collision with an invisible wall that halted my advance and sent me reeling backwards, disorientated, and bewildered.

Trapped within the confines of the pentagram, its protective power a formidable barrier, I realised there was no way of escaping. Ensnared like a bird trapped in a cage by the barrier with its protective sphere. The young girl’s actions, drawing the five-pointed star on the floor, locked me in a place with a magic beyond my reckoning. The realization of my predicament stung like a venomous bite. I now know what a bug feels like hitting the windshield of a fast-moving car.

I straightened my nose, gave my best impression of a supernatural huff, and readjusted my horns with an air of annoyance. Trapped inside the pentagram, I impatiently wait, my senses attuned to the girl’s every movement. The commotion I had caused in her living room was hard to ignore. The shattered bottles, the sticky mess and the chaos that had followed my initial outburst were all too obvious to behold.

To my intense irritation, she poured another glass of wine. I seethed with frustration as she leaned against the balcony’s railing and lifted her gaze towards the waxing moon. The audacity of her calm demeanour in the face of the devastation I had caused fuelled my rage.

With each sip of wine, her lips parting to savour the crimson liquid, my impatience grew. I longed for her attention, for her to turn around and acknowledge the mess, acknowledge me. But she seemed lost in her own world, a world that did not include the supernatural havoc within the confines of the pentagram.

3An icy breeze swept through the air, a chilling presage that stirred the wind chimes hanging on the balcony. In the stillness of the night, the delicate echoes of their melodies filled the air. A haunting symphony carried on the whispering wind. Moonlight bathed the scene in an ethereal glow, reflecting off the glass of red wine that sat beside a deck of tattered Tarot cards on the old-stained oak table.

The ambiance was surreal, a tableau that seemed to exist outside of time. The balcony, the wine, the Tarot cards, they held an air of mystery and intrigue, a world between the boundaries between the supernatural world and reality seemed to be blurred.  

Cocooned in her own little corner of paradise, Kristy found solace. The fragrant embrace of rosemary, basil, and jasmine carried her away from the frantic world beyond. With a glass of cheap red wine in her hand, she sipped thoughtfully, the taste of acidity tingling on her tongue. The wine may not have been the finest vintage, but it was a companion.

With a determined breath, she downed another glass, the liquid warming her from the inside. The anticipation of the wine’s effects mingled with the presence of her calming plants, allowing her to let go of the tension she felt earlier. The air seemed lighter, and her heart followed suit.

As the warmth flowed through her veins, Kristy’s thoughts turned toward the Tarot cards before her. With the practised ease of someone who had performed the ritual countless times, she shuffled the cards in a rhythmic motion. Each shuffle was a whisper of intention, a connection to the unseen forces that guided her actions.

With a sense of purpose, she drew three cards from the deck and placed them face down on the dark-stained oak table. They rested there, silent sentinels of the future, promising insights, and revelations that only the Tarot could provide. She hesitated for a moment. Her fingers lingering over the cards, before turning them over one by one.

The waiting game was a familiar companion to Kristy, a dance she had performed many times before. Past, present, and future lay like pages in a book to be read. As she turned her attention to the cards before her, the Tarot spread became a mirror for her journey.

The hanged man appeared as the card representing her past. The image depicted a figure suspended upside down, a temporary pause in life’s journey. Kristy recognised this energy very well. The notion of going with the flow, surrendering to circumstances, and cultivating patience. It was a reflexion of the past, a time in when circumstances in her life seemed to be a series of events beyond her control. A wistful smile tugged at her lips. The symbolism held no surprise for her. She had indeed navigated life with the understanding that sometimes the best course of action was to wait, to observe, and to trust in the unseen currents guiding her.

As she moved to the present, her gaze shifted to the next image. The High Priestess emerged, a figure of mystery and intuition. The card depicted a woman seated between two pillars, a book of knowledge resting in her lap. It was a reminder that wisdom lay within her, that intuition was a powerful guide, even in the face of uncertainty.

And then there was the future card, the last piece of the puzzle. The Wheel of Fortune revealed itself, an image of a spinning wheel representing the cycles of life. The card spoke of change, of inevitable change, and of the ebb and flow of destiny. It was a card that reminded her that nothing remained stagnant, that even in moments of uncertainty, there was a larger pattern at play.

With a sense of both anticipation and trepidation, Kristy contemplated the Wheel of Fortune. The image spoke of the unknown, of the twists and turns that lay ahead. It served as a reminder that her journey was not predetermined, and that even when events seemed beyond her control, she possessed the power to shape her path.

Kristy felt stirrings of resentment toward Kyle. He had promised to remain at her side through thick and thin. Now, two years down the line, he decides to taste forbidden fruits by running off with one of her best friends. They had been through some stormy patches over the last two years, but she did still love him deeply. She was sure he felt the same way. Well, almost sure.

Captivated by the cards, she had not noticed the sky cloud over. Draining the last few blood-red drops from her glass, she turned to open the balcony door.

As her intuition intertwined with the cards, the sky gradually surrendered its silvery canvas to the encroaching darkness of thick clouds. The first distant rumble of thunder was like a reverberating echo of the card’s cryptic messages.

Chapter 3

Isat immersed in the glossy magazine, my claws flipping through pages that depicted a world unrecognizable from the ones I had last known. As my eyes danced across the vivid images and absorbing articles of technological marvels, a sense of amazement and detachment filled me. Humanity had evolved in ways I had never imagined. The superstitious fears that once held sway over people were now replaced by a resolute belief in their own ingenuity and prowess, bolstered by the dazzling array of inventions that now surrounded them.

AMID THIS CONTEMPLATION, a presence entered the room like a whisper of the wind. I lifted my gaze from the pages, my sharp eyes meeting those of a startled young woman just beyond the threshold.

In an instant, Kristy’s shock gave way to terror. A scream erupted from her lips as she dropped the glass she held. The shards of glass glistened like fallen stars at her feet. Kristy’s breaths came in rapid bursts, her eyes fixed on the demon as she struggled with her fears.

My God, it worked! she screamed, her voice quivering with a blend of disbelief and terror. The lines between magic and reality blurred, leaving her feeling both exhilarated and terrified.

Memories of her grandmother’s stories filled her mind, the tales of summoning spirits to fulfil desires of and exact vengeance. As a young girl, she had listened to those stories with rapt attention, her imagination ignited by the possibility of a world beyond the ordinary. But as the years passed and her grandmother’s tales became mere memories, Kristy had grown sceptical, relegating the stories to the realm of fiction.

Yet, her grandmother’s old, tattered book, discovered among her possessions after her passing, held secrets she had never suspected. It was the key that had unlocked the supernatural, the very realm that her grandmother had spoken of. The urge to explore that world had grown irresistible, especially after Kyle’s betrayal. The wounds of betrayal run deep, and a thirst for revenge had ignited in Kristy’s heart. Kyle’s treachery had shattered the trust once bound them, leaving behind a void she could not ignore. But there was a second desire that burned within her, an ache for true love, a connection untainted by deceit.

The sudden appearance of this hideous demon in her once peaceful lounge had shattered Kristy’s initial excitement and replaced it with sheer terror. The reality of her actions hit her like a tidal wave as acrid smoke stung her eyes and chaos reigned around her. She clutched her grandmother’s book in her trembling hands, her thoughts racing as she desperately sought a way to undo what she had unleashed.

Her eyes locked onto the grotesque creature before her, its gnarled horns and menacing tail serving only to amplify its nightmarish form, casting a chilling shadow over her trembling figure. The demon’s eyes gleamed with an eerie intensity, and a guttural growl rumbled deep within its throat.

The room bore the scars of its arrival like a battlefield after a fierce clash. Furniture lay overturned, ornaments shattered, and the very air hung heavy with an ominous, otherworldly presence, suffocating in its intensity.

In her panic, Kristy’s fingers danced frantically across the pages of the book, as if in a frenzied waltz. Her grandmother’s handwriting seemed to leap off the pages, the words and symbols practically pulsating with urgency. With every beat of her heart echoing like thunder in her ears, she raced against time, feverishly seeking the spell that could banish the demon back to the dark realm from which it had emerged.

But her task was not unnoticed by the demon. The creature’s eyes narrowed, a sinister grin curling its twisted lips. It recognised the book in her hands as the source of its potential undoing. Panic turned to desperation as Kristy’s voice trembled but found strength, the ancient incantation escaping her lips like a lifeline.

The demon’s reaction was swift and desperate. As Kristy chanted the words of dismissal, the demon’s form seemed to flicker, the acrid smoke thickening as if in defiance. The room seemed to pulse with malevolent energy as the demon’s voice boomed, a cacophony that rattled the very foundation of the room.

In a final desperate gambit, the demon’s form transformed. With a sickening shudder, it shifted from its grotesque form into that of a young man. A handsome, disarming fellow whose face adorned lifelike portraits throughout Kristy’s dwelling.

The transformation was uncanny, and Kristy’s heart wavered for a moment. This doppelgänger stood before her, his image resonating with an unsettling familiarity. But within her, a deeper instinct whispered that this was just another manipulation, an attempt to stall her, to distract her from her goal.

As the transformed demon spoke, his voice carried the seductive charm of a bewitching melody, weaving its way into her very thoughts like tendrils of dark magic. The temptation to hesitate, to second-guess her actions, surged within her like a relentless tide. Yet, with the urgency of the situation looming before her like a specter of doom, she summoned every ounce of her willpower, steeling herself against the insidious