It was just another ordinary night in the year 1709.

A navy blue backdrop set the elegant stage as the wispy, translucent curtains slowly parted themselves, revealing the silvery white main character of the night. She loomed over the horizon, glowing ethereally at her audience from her celestial realm. Faint sounds of people chanting served as light background music, setting the mood of her nocturne performance.

Three cloaked figures surrounded a glowing triangle carved into the floor. One of them looked up at the sky and removed her hood, revealing a freckled ginger woman who looked no older than thirty. A barely noticeable bell rang in the distance.

"Midnight. It is time, mine sisters." Her Icelandic accent was light, yet distinct. She held out her hand. "Tis the last step of our ritual."

Another removed her hood. Her lightning blue eyes contrasted perfectly with her dark skin, looking at a tiny orange light in the distance.

"Yet another one of ours burneth at the stake," she said in a thin voice, holding out her hand as well. "They will never accepteth us and our practices."

The last woman met their outstretched fingers with her own, her black hair glistening beautifully in the moonlight.

"That is why we do this, is it not?" she said in a voice distinctly higher than her companions. "So that we can, at each moment, beest together. Even if the world never accepts that our bond surpasseth the boundaries of our ancestors."

"Indeed. Alloweth us to cital our vows," the ginger woman stated. "I shalt go first."

With a deft flick of her wrist, her fingertips began to glow a dull red. A small wisp of smoke escaped from between them as she pressed her fingers together. A faint trace of satisfaction curved her lips as she spoke. "With mine own blessing, I vow that he who uses mine own power shalt never perish by another."

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A white glow emanated from the next woman as the moon above her seemed to glow brighter than usual. "With mine own blessing, I vow that he who uses mine own power shalt has't his one true desire did grant."

A cool breeze whipped through the black hair of the last woman as she opened her eyes slowly. Light blue sparks danced down from her face to her fingers, and the surrounding air crackled with energy. "With mine own blessing, I vow that only mine own blood descendants shalt wield mine power as their own."

The three women looked at each other as the carved triangle began to change colours rapidly. The glow from their fingertips spread to the rest of their bodies while the wind intensified around them. Their voices echoed in unison from the depths of the glaring light engulfing their entire being.

"Until the world doest us right.

In spades of three, we taketh flight.

Separateth, we art curs'd to beest

in gems of night to spendeth eternity."

A fourth voice joined in, adding a guttural and menacing layer to their rising chorus.

"To lightning, fire, silver moon

With thine power, thou shalt attune

Death will cease thy hold on thou

Until thou breaks thine vow."

A green light exploded from the triangle, blasting into the sky. It dispersed quickly as darkness flooded back, revealing three different coloured gems hovering in the women's place. They fell to the ground abruptly, as if suddenly remembering to obey the law of gravity. Their colours faded away into an obsidian black as the gems sank into the ground.

"No, Gabriella!"

A man scurried over from behind a large bush. He fell to his knees, clawing the ground where the black haired lady was standing.

"Why?" He gave up after a while and sobbed into his hands. "Return to me, mine love..."

The lunar presence retreated behind her smoky curtains, leaving the heartbroken man to grieve on the gravel floor.