Page 2 of The Last Fire

It was Samael who chose the name, his father being of Romanian origins. Rhea, the only girl in their gang, once shared the legend of the Crasnic around a campfire at night. In fact, it was the only campfire I had ever been to, the one before the Last Fire I was about to take part in before being accepted among them.

The Last Fire is happening tonight, on the very day I turn sixteen.

I was completely captivated by the terrifying legend, even though I was raised with different moral values, and their gang was the complete opposite of everything I had been told my whole life.

Submission - Freedom

Order - Chaos

The Legend of the Crasnic tells the story of a priestess from a town in southeastern Romania, precisely Gala?i. After 25 years of a barren marriage, she makes a vow with the Devil, offering her soul and body in exchange for a child. Thirteen months later, following an unusually long gestation period, on a night with a blood-red moon, the woman gives birth to a child, half human, half pig, who starts running and howling through the house, like a wild creature. That night, the Crasnic feasts on everyone in the house, eating them alive. By the break of dawn, the Crasnic vanishes from where it was conceived.

Thus, the sin was paid in flesh and blood.

The legend fueled my curiosity even more, so I wanted to see them with my own eyes, wearing the masks whispered about in secret in high school. I truly yearned to be part of the dark side of the small town of Matlock, but unfortunately, I hadn’t had the chance the previous night. The Crasnics hadn’t dared to show themselves, but tonight, I have a feeling tonight’s going to be different.

Samael’s imagination has always mesmerized me. He’s unique, unlike any other boy. Among his siblings, he’s the most enigmatic, mature, and charming.

I put my trust in him.

That’s how I felt because I haven’t always acted upon my feelings.

Today, I had made up my mind to break the rules.

I grit my teeth with each step I take, the coldness of the stones piercing through my feet like knife blades.

I was in my pajamas, wrapped in blankets up to my neck when I heard the pebble tapping against my bedroom window. My heart skipped a beat, and a smile instantly brightened my face as I wondered who it could be.

I knew it was him.

It has to be.

After all, it’s my birthday today, I’m turning sixteen, and I had been waiting all day for him to come or text me, even though we weren’t on the best terms.

And finally, Samael came for me.

Being a part of the Crasnics is the most beautiful gift he could have given me on my birthday. I’m not sure what made him change his mind, but I can only be happy about it.

As we get closer, I hear the chords of the song “Run” by Disturbed. I’m aware that the chosen song holds a message, intended to intimidate and deter me, orchestrated by his friends and Samael’s brothers, but I refuse to be frightened. I had come too far to turn back now.

Just a little longer, and I would be with Samael every day, after school, in the places where they gathered, during the Crasnics’s hunting nights, in the Druid’s Cave where we used to play when we were young, or behind St. Giles’ Church, right where we’re heading now, where the cemetery is surrounded by a frightening forest.

We no longer have reasons to hide.

Sometimes, on full moon nights, there were parties that not every ordinary kid could attend. I had only been there once, accompanied by my sole friend, Saza, after discovering that she hooked up with Manasseh, Samael’s older brother. At first, I had the impression that she didn’t like him, so it came as a surprise to learn about them. I didn’t like it, I don’t know why, but I didn’t dislike it either, because it allowed me to focus all my attention on Sami.

The chords of the song grow increasingly louder, and I clench my teeth as the sounds start to emerge on my right.

No, wait!

On my left.

Are the sounds of starving animals coming from all directions? I am surrounded by weird noises, like the grunting of pigs.

It’s them!

The Crasnics of Matlock have taken over the cemetery of St. Giles’ Church, haunting the tombstones, much like the chilling gusts of early autumn wind.

“Are you afraid?” Samael’s low voice, resonant enough to drown out the grunts that fill the graveyard, snaps me out of the grim movie that my mind inevitably plays.

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