He's Under My Spell

Priscilla's blood ran cold. "How… how could it happen?" she whispered, fear gripping her. "Who could possibly do this to me?"

She was inside an illusion, a twisted reflection of reality. Luminous, her ever-faithful companion, was the only link to the real world, communicating with her through their shared mental connection.

"Where… where is my body?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"I haven't found it yet," Luminous replied, his voice grave. "But I know something happened. Your amulet… it's glowing."

"My amulet?" Priscilla frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"It's radiating light, Priscilla. It's glowing so brightly, the light is actually emanating from your bag." Luminous paused. "That's how I knew something was wrong."

Priscilla's eyes widened. The amulet, a gift from her parents, was a powerful artifact. It was supposed to protect her, not signal distress. "Look for my body in the mansion," she instructed, her voice urgent. "I… I think something happened there."

Luminous hesitated. "Are you sure? It's dangerous, Priscilla."

"I have to know," she insisted. "Find my body, Luminous. And be careful."

With a final, urgent mental message, Luminous severed their connection.

Priscilla, alone in this illusion, this twisted echo of her past, felt a shiver crawl down her spine. The van, the road, Elvis – it was all gone. She was back in the familiar, yet terrifying, setting of her childhood home, the hut that had been destroyed by fire.

She walked slowly, her senses alert, fear of a distant hum in the background. She wouldn't let fear consume her. They might have trapped her in this illusion, but they wouldn't break her.

"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice echoing through the empty hut. "And what do you want from me?"

A chilling laugh echoed through the hut, a sound that seemed to emanate from every corner. "Patience, child," a rasping voice chuckled. "The show has just begun."

Priscilla's blood ran cold. This was no ordinary illusion. This was a trap, a carefully crafted torment designed to break her spirit.

Priscilla started to murmur an incantation, attempting to break free from the illusion. But before she could fully counteract the spell, the environment around her shifted dramatically. The familiar surroundings of the hut vanished, replaced by the bustling marketplace at the center of town.

She saw her parents in the distance, their faces pale and drawn, surrounded by an angry mob. The townspeople, their faces contorted with rage, were dragging her parents towards the center of the square.

"Everyone, look here!" a man shouted, his voice booming through the square. "These two witches are responsible for all the recent crimes! What should we do with them?"

The crowd roared in response, their voices a terrifying cacophony. "Cut their heads off!" "Put them on the flagpole! They deserve to die!"

Priscilla watched in horror as her parents pleaded for mercy, their voices lost in the sea of angry shouts. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to run towards them, but an invisible force held her back, an unseen barrier preventing her from reaching them.

"Watch," a chilling voice whispered in her ear. "Watch how they die. Let their suffering fuel your anger."

Priscilla felt helpless, utterly powerless to intervene. She could only watch in horror as the townspeople, their faces twisted with bloodlust, carried out their gruesome deed.

When her parents' heads were finally displayed on the flagpole, a wave of consuming rage washed over Priscilla. The bitterness and the anger within her doubled.

"That's it," the chilling voice whispered, adding fuel to her emotions. "Be like that. Let hatred consume you. You should feel nothing but vengeance. Don't be like your parents, always so kind, always trying to help others. Look how it ended for them betrayed and brutally murdered."

Priscilla, consumed by grief and rage, could only nod, her eyes filled with a chilling resolve.

As she cried out in anger, she was jolted by Luminous's urgent whisper, "Priscilla, you have to fight it! You have to break out of this illusion. If not, you will be trapped in the illusion forever. They are just playing you and your past."

Priscilla came to her senses, her anger fueling a surge of willpower. She took a deep breath, focusing her mind on breaking free from the illusion. Before attempting the incantation, she looked one last time at the horrifying scene unfolding before her, the image of her parents' lifeless bodies seared into her memory. "I will not let them win," she vowed silently.

With renewed determination, she began to chant, her voice barely a whisper, drawing on the last reserves of her strength.

Suddenly, the illusion shattered, the horrifying scene dissolving into a kaleidoscope of colors. She found herself surrounded by the other maids, their faces etched with concern.

"Laura? Laura? You're awake!" one of the maids exclaimed, relief flooding her voice. "Are you okay?"

Priscilla, disoriented, mumbled, "What… what happened? Where am I?"

"We should be the ones asking you that," Betty replied, her voice laced with worry. "After you left to feed your parrot, you didn't come back. We've been looking for you for hours. We found you almost when the sun was already set. You were at the entrance of the forest at the back of the mansion."

Priscilla was utterly confused. "What? I… I came back after feeding my parrot. I even heard the commotion earlier…" she trailed off, her mind reeling.

"What commotion?" Betty asked, perplexed.

Priscilla, however, couldn't explain. The events of the past few moments felt unreal, a fleeting nightmare. Had she actually left the mansion? Or had she been trapped within her own mind, battling unseen forces?

And what about Elvis? Had she truly been in the van with him? Or was that part of the illusion as well? Perhaps, she mused, her attempt to read Elvis's mind had somehow backfired, trapping her within his own mental landscape.