Whispers of Fate: Part 1

In the darkest shade a light doth shine. Evil knows no bounds greater than which we allow it. Ignite the flame and shadows shalt flee for truly it is said that, wherever purity persists, not a single finger of evil will be laid upon it. 

-Ashallalah’s decree, Book of Kala 5: 12-14

1829

Fate is not chosen. It is given, earned, or deserved.

Part 1

Footfalls echoed from glossy rain soaked cobble as leather covered feet ran down the main street of London. Shadows emanating from wrought iron lamp posts enshrouding the figure of a small girl, no older than fourteen, whose heavy breaths were the only sound in the silent city. Halting at one of these posts to recover breath, she examined the contents of her white knuckled hand: a small thin bracelet with six ocean blue sapphires the shape of diamonds embedded at equal spacing along the side. Why is this thing worth all of this trouble to steal? Becoming a house fly to get into the castle sucked. All this chase for stupid bracelet? Why was Kestrel guarding this so heavily? Could this be-? No, that would be ridiculous.

Before she could spare any more time to think, the red eyes began to appear out of the alleyways and underneath carriages once more. They caught up… s**t.

Clamping the bracelet under her thin fingers once more, she took a deep breath, aware that all hell would break loose the very second the tension was broken. Much in the manner of a white knight stuck in front of a black queen, the knight must move first in order to live. Although she had never been one for chess, she knew this for certain: this must not be a checkmate. Shifting her weight to her left leg, she knew that she had to make the first move. 

Within the beat of a heart and the turn of a heel, hundreds of various creatures from snakes to wolves, all with the same glowing crimson eyes, burst from the darkness. Turning left from the main street, she could see the Royal London Cemetery in the distance. The small relief that she felt in that moment, was rapidly snuffed out by the encroaching pounding of claws and hooves from behind. Her heart began to beat like that of the river Thames rushing under the London Bridge. She was close enough to touch the mausoleum, yet far enough that it might as well have been all the way in France. 

Every step she took was posted at the border of dreams and reality as if in a trance. The claws of the beasts behind her ripped at the hem of her cloak pulling her back to reality. Had she had the air, she would have screamed but instead she only pushed out short, ragged breaths as she stumbled closer and closer to the gates of the cemetery. As if they were commanded to do so, the iron gates swung upon before her as did the mausoleum doors in the center of thousands of graves. Desperate to live, she began weaving between headstones and obelisks in random fashion, causing the creatures to slam into the stones sending dust into the air. This bought her just a half an instant and that was all that she needed to cross the threshold of the mausoleum. The second that the creatures began to try to enter, a bubble of golden air formed wherever they tried to cross the doorway. This golden air, once made contact with the pitch black flesh of any of the beasts, burned a searing white and turned their skin a light shade of gray. Some cursed at the young girl, some remained silent in their hatred, others continued to hopelessly burn themselves for a while, but all of the beasts eventually turned away before disappearing into the night. They knew that they could not reach her, this was Ashallalah’s domain. 

When only the smell of burnt meat and the ever present wind of the night remained, the heavy stone doors swung shut before her as she collapsed to the floor, breathless. I…did it. I did it. Thank… Ashallalah, I did it. Mother Isa will be happy…to hear I got it.

She opened her palm once more and the bracelet clattered against the cold floor. Even in the darkness it seemed to hold its own light, that of the moon which had shown upon her only moments prior. Entranced by its beauty, she stood once more and brushed the dust of the chase from her maroon cloak. Cradling the bracelet in her open palms as she walked to the center of the room. She stomped on the ground and it began to glow with various shapes etched within the stone. Before her, descended a set of stairs which slowly dipped into the earth before halting at a similar stone floor ten feet below the surface. Without taking her eyes from the sapphires in the silver, she descended.

As the girl disappeared, the stairs replaced themselves as part of the ground. If anyone else had walked in, they would be none the wiser of the events that had just occurred. 

It appears that the Bangle of The Moon has been retrieved.

Sister Halasi, the second of The Circle Of Stars, spoke through the minds of the other members of The Circle all of which stood upon stone pedestals around a glowing mahogany table. This unnatural light illuminated seven masks of various shades of wood  shaped in the likeness of owls. Yes, it would appear to be as it was decreed years ago by Ashallalah herself. We may now begin selection of that who shall wield it.

Sister Omora, the fifth of The Circle, uttered these words as the massive stone doors at the head of the chamber were pushed open by four Acolytes before a fifth girl, whose robes deemed her a fifth degree fledgling, timidly stepped into the room. Once the doors had shut, Mother Isa, who sat at the head of the mystical table, stood up and spoke in a voice that effortlessly filled the chamber. “Fledgling Clarissa, of the fifth order under the command of Acolyte Lara, step forward and present the Bangle which you were sent to retrieve.”

Doing as she was asked, Clarissa moved to the center of the room and held her cupped hands into the air. Suddenly, as if all the glory of the night sky had become a single point of light, the faces of all that looked upon her were etched in a shimmering white glow as the bangle began to rise from her palms before resting a foot above her hands. In less than a moment, the light dissipated and the bangle fell back into her palms. In a voice that was much less confident than before, Mother spoke once more, instructing the Fledgling to lay it upon the table and return to her duties. “You have done very well today, Clarissa. We promise you that your efforts shall not be overlooked.”

When the young girl had left and the doors were shut once more, The Circle sat in awe at what they had seen. So it was spoken, our goddess hath returned to us once more. Who then is the greatest among us?

Sister Cora, the sixth of The Circle, who posed this question, turned to Mother Isa whose eyes were shut in deep meditation. Once her eyes opened again, she began to focus on the Bangle at the end of the table. “A rite of pairing shall be committed when the moon is highest in the sky. It is not our jurisdiction to choose who shall wear the bangle, that is Ashallalah’s choice and hers alone. Let it be so, sisters. There will not be a soul excluded from this ritual. It is crucial that all know that she still watches over us and that our promised saviour, that which will deliver us from the cruelty of Kestrel and his hoard, has finally arrived. All is good. All is very good.”

“The witch escaped. Would you care to explain to me just how a little girl outran you and your entire army, Quail?”

Red irises rimmed with pale skin cast a cold gaze down from atop a steel throne. Had Quail looked up, he would have seen a man dressed in ceremonial robes with dark hair that flowed across his wide shoulders and chest, fiddling with a jeweled sword of the purest silver in all of Europe. Instead, all Quail saw was the stone floor upon which he knelt as if being lower to the ground would make him invisible to the ruthless eyes of his king. “I- I don’t know, sire. She was just there and- and the walls were gone. We are repairing that right now, by the way. She just kind of blew right through it and leapt out. We were fast but, well, you know how fast their kind can be and cunning and their goddess and-”

His words were put to a halt by the shock of cold metal pressing against the small of his neck. Contempt nearly dripping off of his tongue in a thick golden ichor, Kestrel whispered into his ear. “Your excuses sicken me, wretch. You have disobeyed what I believed to be a simple order, that being to not allow anyone in or out of the treasury. I ought to remind you of your post, general. When you took this post, do you remember the price for insolence? Would you kindly remind me of it?”

Kestrel began to saunter around the throne room, the thin knife twirling like a small rose in between his fingers. Quail swallowed and closed his eyes. “Death…sire. I believe the price was death.” 

The king of the vampiric hoard took his place back at his general’s side, maroon tongue licking razor sharp mandibles which were starved for the wine of the body. Kestrel knew how important it was for his subjects to fear him. Yet a dash of benevolence went all the distance of a whole reign of terror. Quail may be a fool but, if Kestrel’s fool of a father had trusted him more than his own son, maybe then there was still a chance he may prove useful in taking the bangle back.

A searing pain shot through Quail’s body sent the general collapsing to the floor accompanied by a heavy impact beside him. In horror and relief, his head turned to see his right arm now laying like stone upon the floor, not a single bit of blood pouring from where it was once attached. He knew vampires didn’t bleed but still it was shocking.

Kestrel gripped Quail by his thin strands of dark hair which had stretched down to the ground, and turned his head up to look him in the eyes. “You are a fortunate one, you may still be of use to me. You know even better than I that the bangle is the only way to crush those treacherous wretches back into the dust from whence they came. So, being the benevolent king that you know I am, I shall give you a second chance. Take your army into the city, find those witches, get back the bangle before they have a chance to use it, and maybe I will allow you to continue living. Otherwise your arm won't be the only thing rotting on the floor.”

Letting his head drop once more, Quail did not waste a moment in standing up. He knew that if he hung around for even a second longer, Kestrel may change his mind and kill him anyway. So he bowed his head in a quick salute and changed his body into that of a raven that was missing a leg. With the frantic flapping of feathers and faint squawks of desperation, Quail flew through the throne room window and into the early morning air.

A solemn parade, led by a single torch, marched into the woods. The moon had just cleared the horizon and the night had become cold. As the trees grew tall and thick, a chant arose from the hooded figures. A chorus, from a time that none remembered and the meanings of the words were lost. This did not change the fact that it was a sacred song and so they sang it in hushed tones between the leaves. When at last they had entered a clearing, the torch was extinguished leaving only the moonlight to keep them company. Each witch took a place in a circle around the center. At the origin of the clearing was Mother Isa knelt in fervorous prayer. Her mouth moved yet not a word escaped her lips. As the chant grew louder, she began to arise with her eyes reflecting the heavens filled with infinite stars. When at last all became still, the chant halted. The Circle, who had been at the front of the parade, stepped forward into the clearing. The second sister moved to the center and laid the contents of her hands into that of Isa before moving back into place. Without gazing anywhere but the sky, her hands bloomed into a platform upon which she raised the bangle above her head. In a voice only she could hear, she whispered to the moon. “Ashallalah, who shall lead us into a new dawn?”

Isa’s eyes became clouded with cataracts as her mind turned in upon itself. The moon was reduced to a faint glow then nothing. As suddenly as lightning strikes a tree that raised its arms too high, she was on a battlefield. Over a hundred vampires lay motionless at her feet. Before her stood a young witch in a gray cloak, the sign of a faeling who is not even experienced enough to be using incantations yet, with her back turned to Isa. In her hands was a body. Not of King Kestrel or any vampire but of a little girl. A small voice, barely perceived by Isa, raised itself to the faeling’s ear from the small girl. It sounded as if she was dying. “I did what I could… Natalie, am I going to die?”

Then, as if the faeling had heard her breathing, she turned and locked eyes with Isa as reality came rushing back like thunder after lightning. A voice that was unlike any that a human could make erupted from her mouth. “Birthed by darkness, called by light, served til death.” 

Once again she was in the forest, arms still raised to the sky. Isa could feel tears wetting her up turned eyes. Voice shaking, she called to the gathered coven. “Bring forward the faeling named Natalie.”

“LET ME GO NOW!” 

Drysi pulled and tugged at the guard’s chains but found it to be in vain. In terms of eight year olds, she was smaller than most and the fifteen guards currently dragging her across the concrete floor of the Leith city prison were bent on her containment. They turned corners and slammed her into walls for almost ten minutes but she could do nothing about it. She had a particularly long day and was too tired to resist properly. Eventually they were in front of a room made of blackened steel no larger than that of a grown man, too small to move inside of. The perfect containment. Picking her up, they wrapped their chains around her before locking them at her neck. She continued to scream at the guards and curse them until she ran out of breath. As they began to stuff her squirming body into the box, she managed to get a hold of a stray hand and clamped her jaw on his pinky. He recoiled immediately leaving a strip of skin in her mouth. “The b***h bit me!”

She laughed, “You have a girly scream. You kiss your boyfriend with that mouth?”

He growled and his fist was sent into her left cheek causing her vision to begin to dim. The last vision that she was able to properly see was that of the dense black door being shut. The sound of the heavy lock being shut was accompanied by the faint voice of a guard who had previously struck her, his words echoing to the beat of her pounding head. “The beastly brat will never see the light of day again. Thank the gods.”

Natalie was nearly brought to her knees when Mother called out her name. Happy could not begin to describe the feelings that overcame her in that moment. The acolytes in the back row however, were not so thrilled. Every witch had heard the prophecy about the savior that would end the vampiric hoard. For nearly a century, witches prepared their entire lives for this very moment. The fourth and highest order of acolytes have done the same as their predecessors and yet Ashallalah chose a faeling. The lowest of all the coven. They didn’t even do magic at that point. Faelings were the ones you sent to gather groceries or clean alchemical messes. Not to take down an army. As she was led forward by the third sister of The Circle, murmurs began to arise from the crowd. Murmurs of discontent. Perhaps their goddess was wrong. Still, she was moved forward to the center all the same. 

When at last she knelt before Mother, she was promptly ordered to arise. Isa looked down at her, a panicked fear suddenly entered her eyes. This girl was too young to even know the prophecy. How then would she know how to handle this responsibility of which she knew not the magnitude? For a moment she considered sending her back. That perhaps the vision was not complete. No. Ashallalah never does anything by mistake. There has to be a reason she chose Natalie. Taking the young girl’s right hand, Isa slipped the bangle onto her wrist. As she did, the stones embedded in the silver appeared to glitter an unnatural light. Bright green eyes looked up at Mother full of confidence and expectation. Mother cleared her throat and addressed the faeling loud enough for the coven to hear. “Natalie. Chosen and called by the light of Ashallalah. Wearer of the Bangle of The Moon. You shall undergo a journey as was spoken by prophets old. forty days and forty nights you shall live in pure solitude in the wilderness. You shall break yourself so that our goddess may mend you once again and mold you into the Mara, the savior of our coven. It shall be so, as it was spoken.”

Isa became hushed once more as she addressed Natalie alone. “I am sorry about this, young one. This responsibility should never have fallen upon you. However, it will be as our goddess commands. You will pack your things and say your goodbyes tonight. The second sister will lead you to the edge of town before the sun rises tomorrow. You shall not return until forty days have passed. When they have, you will come back to this clearing at this same time where we will await you to complete the ritual. Do you understand?” 

Natalie nodded and raised her head to the sky in prayer. Stars began to dance and the very stones started to sing as the entire coven’s voices rose in unison into one sound. The voice asked for faith. For protection and guidance. For a light that they may follow. For deliverance from the night.

The night that followed was a restless one. Natalie had said her goodbyes to the few friends that she had made in the half a year which she had lived in the coven. Her fellow faelings returned with good wishes and pride. She could sense that their pride was but a thin facade for jealousy. Why wouldn’t they be jealous? Afterall, what right did she have to be claimed as better than they were? She searched for a reason why she was chosen and yet she found none. Why was Ashallalah silent to her of all people? That night she tried to search for reason in her dreams but found herself unable to sleep. The more she thought, the heavier her heart felt. It sunk so deep into her stomach that she felt sick. The ceiling offered no refuge either. Cold and distant, it stared down upon her. Its surface seemed to tell her that she was the one chosen by the moon. She should accept the responsibility. Natalie turned to the wall and prayed for morning.

Drysi slumped with her head resting on the wall of the box, wrists purple and bruised from the struggle that had subsided hours ago. The resisting spirit had given up its ghost. Not even the beast could awaken compulsively or by will. Just as she was about to fall asleep, her head lurched forward into the door awakening her once more. A voice, a whisper, hardly even a hushed breeze, crept through the feeding slot before her. “Little girl.” 

It hissed, “Do you wish to be free?”

She nodded, a faint groan escaping her lips. It continued, moving around the box. “I know who you are, Maddox. If I let you go, do you promise not to kill me? My master wishes to meet you. He offers you a pact out of good will. Are you listening?”

Drysi forced her head upright and tried to focus on the words which the voice had said. “Yes. What…pact?”

The voice returned to the feeding hole and began to move through it as it spoke. “My dear wolf, we are a people much like you. We too bear a curse.”

She felt a thin lithe creature wrap its scales around her wrists and neck as it surrounded the chains. The voice was now so close to her ear that she could hear its nearly imperceptible breaths. “Our leader knows what it is like to be hated. To be feared by all around because of forces that he could not control. That we cannot control.”

She felt the chains loosen as the links fell to the floor, cracked by force. “We offer you a chance at change. We offer revenge at those who have done this to you. Come with me, Maddox.”

The door of the box became loose and her weakened arm slowly pushed it away. The creature that was an ebony snake now stood before her as a man with equally dark hair. He bowed to her. Whether it was out of respect or fear, he bowed just the same. “Wolf, I know a way which we may leave. There is a passage below the prison that has long been forgotten in the sands of time.”

The thin man took deliberate steps across the room. As if he listened to each tap of his naked feet. Near the door, only a couple steps to the right of the steel portal, he stopped and bent to the ground. With yellowing nails, he slid his thin fingers underneath a stone that she had assumed was bound to the ground. Lifting it from its place, a passageway made itself known to the flickering candles on the wall. He made a motion to step into the darkness before turning to Drysi. “This way, Maddox.”

After almost a full hour in the darkness spent with one hand on the wall and the other on the shoulder of her strange savior, they came to a stop. The figure in front of her began to ascend. Soon he reached the top and suddenly the light of the moon shone into the passage revealing an iron ladder embedded into the wall before her. Within moments, she too was under the moonlight. The cool air resurrected her spirit as they began to walk. A short while later, they crested a hill which had previously hid a group of five or more people who bore a resemblance to the man that Drysi had learned was called Gannet. They exchanged a few brief words, of which she only caught a couple. “- his key to the coven, he will be pleased she is alive.” 

Once their conversation had halted, he motioned her over. Between their feet was an odd leather bag. It was long and had several handles on each side. They informed her that this bag was transportation for her to Cambridge. She asked why but they did not answer. They only said to get in the bag and she did as she was told. She was not one to rebel when she knew she couldn’t win anyway. When she was nestled into the shockingly warm bag, the people who had stood around her were suddenly eagles. Each one clutched a handle as the bag slowly rose into the sky, higher with each flap of their massive wings. As they began to move, she could feel herself drifting off to a blissful and much needed slumber. 

A fist hit wood. Once then twice. A third and Natalie’s eyes shot open. Sitting up, she spoke to the door. “Come in.”

The hooded figure of Sister Halasi seemed to bypass the door and enter the room in spite of it. Natalie starred as she regained consciousness. The cold wooden owl mask stared back. Eventually, she stood from the bed and began to dawn her robe and undergarments. The last piece to be adorned was the thin silver bangle. When she believed that she had all that she would need, she nodded to Halasi who nodded back and motioned for Natalie to follow. 

The town slept as they stepped across the unlit dawn. Not a word between them was spoken until they reached the farthest building. As the road turned to dirt, Sister Halasi stopped. In Natalie’s mind, she heard the sister’s voice. This is as far as I shall go. 

Natalie moved to face the sister and bowed. Halasi did the same. Be careful, child. May the moon guide you and watch your breaths that they may never stop.

With those last words still in her mind, Natalie turned to the mountains and began to set off. Forty days. 

She thought. It's only forty days.