Gloria screamed as they channeled life from her. Hot streams of energy tore from her like limbs being amputated. She couldn’t see the frenzy on the grounds of the Beltraine Sisterhood due to the tears and smoke distorting her view. But the chaotic atmosphere was driving her insane. The entire Sisterhood watched as the ceremony progressed, and Gloria felt as though she was the enemy amid the witches as she wailed. No less than thirteen witches encircled her with their hands clasped, each taking from her something highly personal and invaluable: her life. They called it the Chain of Glory: the formation used for ritual killing.
“SALVIA LUMINA! SALVIA LUMINA! SALVIA LUMINA!”
Purple fire gashed in the space before the witches, pitching like an angry spirit at the vampire, engulfing him.
As the only passive Channeler in the Beltraine Sisterhood, Gloria’s position was not a part of the chain itself, but inside it— the most dangerous place to be.
She hated her role within the Sisterhood. Gloria would have preferred if she were a normal witch, but she sucked at magic. A light breeze blew the smoke to the east, giving her a clear view of the real enemy of the night. Bound from head to toe on a long cedar log at the center of the Chain of Glory, was an unfortunate creature. A mere six feet from her, the vampire was the subject of the night’s execution. He thrashed as purple fire lashed his skin, his screams adding to the heady chorus dominating the space. His once pale skin was now burnt black. Gloria knew it wasn’t long before the magical fire destroyed him. Another incantation ripped through the cold air, cast by one of the witches to her right, and stoking the fire afresh. Gloria fell to her knees as the spell taxed her body and mind, sweat washing her face. Suddenly, her stomach lurched, vomiting before she could get it away from her body. Let it be over, she thought, gazing at the dying vampire.
Die already!
As her eyes crossed from the pain, the creature made a slow gesture — a stark contrast to its previous thrashing. The vampire stretched its fiery hand toward her as if begging for mercy. The movement was so strange that Gloria froze, her wailing quickly halting. The next second saw the outstretched hand flaking into ashes, before scattering into Nyxhaven’s blackness. The remainder of his body followed, disintegrating into nothingness. A moment of silence passed: the only sounds were the trees rustling in the surrounding Shadowgrove forest. The purple flame extinguished with a crack of finality. With the vampire now banished, the young women of Beltraine erupted into deafening roars and cheers, while Gloria collapsed on her knees, wheezing.
Faint and spent, she willed herself to remain conscious, her mind flickering like a candle in the wind. The cheers from the girls seemed distant and insignificant as her brain strained under the pressure of pain and exhaustion. Gloria lowered her throbbing body to the damp earth. No sooner had she done this than she caught sight of something peculiar. Perched atop the cedar log on which the vampire had just been vaporized, was a large raven plucking at its plumage. Gloria squinted to ensure she wasn’t hallucinating: Ravens and crows were supposed to have been extinct in Nyxhaven for more than a century. It resembled a shadow, almost camouflaged in the obsidian night. And Gloria might not have seen the thing had it not been sporting forbidding red eyes directed squarely at her. She didn’t believe in omens, but the timing of it unnerved her. And just as she was about to observe the crowd to determine if they saw what she saw, the creature took flight, flapping silently out of sight beyond the Shadowgrove forest. A dark thought intruded upon her weary mind: what if the vampire had transformed into a raven? What if he wasn’t actually dead? Gloria shoved the thought from her mind, refusing to further depress herself with dark conspiracies.
From the ground, she caught sight of two girls weeping among the cheering onlookers. Gloria would have smiled and told them she was okay if she had the energy. Their names were Faelina and Osara— her only friends at Beltraine. They were the only two reasons why her time at the Sisterhood thus far wasn’t total hell. She thought of crawling toward them — away from the witches who had comprised the now broken Chain of Glory, but she now noticed one of the three Headmistresses of Beltraine approaching them from behind the cedar log. Dressed in a white tunic, the old woman’s movement was so graceful that she seemed to float. Gloria forgot her pain in awe of this rare sighting of one of the three nun-like Mothers. The cheering ceased dramatically as the Mother approached, the sisters similarly stunned.
Mother Meirothea, the wizened Mother of Mercy, stepped into their midst. Even from her grounded position, Gloria could see the lines and creases on Mother Meirothea’s face. The old witch regarded the sisters with her shrewd black eyes. Her fulsome silver hair defied her age of almost three centuries, taking on an almost magical sheen in the moonlight.
“Ladies of Beltraine,” she began, her voice soft but grave. “Allow me to express how proud I am to see you execute the mission of Beltraine. The hard work we do here nightly is to get the beasts off the streets of Nyxhaven…one by one, until true peace is restored to this blessed land.”
Gloria managed to prop herself up a bit to get a better view of Mother Meirothea. The words proceeding from the Mother of Mercy seemed to soothe her, the searing pain in her back and head fading. Her new vantage point revealed something she hadn’t seen as the old witch spoke. Floating beside Mother Meirothea was a pearlescent, ghost-like figure, which Gloria knew to be a vestal.
Vestals were wraith-like beings who protected Beltraine in some capacity. There were three in total, each vestal the creation of one of the three Mothers. The vestal beside Mother Meirothea was Paracelsus, who was usually stationed at the Beltraine gate to admit allies and annihilate foes. Each vestal possessed a unique ability bequeathed upon them by the Mother who created it. Paracelsus had the power of cauterizing light, an offshoot of a greater power held by Mother Meirothea, that burned anyone subjected to it with deadly, purifying light. Meirothea continued.
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“To also express their satisfaction with what you women managed to do tonight, Mothers Lysandra and Crimsonia invite you all to the chapel in thirty minutes, where we will discuss some very important matters concerning Beltraine.” The Mother paused, her face taking on a graver aspect.
“I’m afraid that though the banishing of that vampire was a victory for the witches, there are other things at play which threaten us.” Suddenly, Mother Meirothea’s eyes lowered to where Gloria lay. Gloria’s breath caught in her throat as Meirothea nodded at her.
“I must commend our resident Channeler. She was the hero tonight— or should I say— heroine. Without her, we could not have hoped to banish that bloodsucker. Remind me of your name, dear?”
Gloria’s mind went blank for a second as all eyes found her. It was only now that the embarrassment of being on the ground in front of so many persons dawned on her. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak, but when she did, no words came out. Another attempt had her releasing a rasping gasp. By now, the silence was awkward. Gloria had no more energy to even attempt her name again.
“Are you dumb?” A voice mumbled beside her. The voice belonged to Cassandra, a fellow first-year whom Gloria disliked.
“Mother asked you your name, idiot.”
Finally, a voice rang out. It was Meirothea’s.
“Gloria, is it? How could I forget? Of all the admissions I’ve conducted for young women entering Beltraine, yours was one of the most interesting. I see you’re too exhausted to even say your name. Poor soul. I shall not forget your name again, especially after the service you’ve just provided for the Sisterhood.”
With that, the crone turned and went back in the direction she came. Her vestal, Paracelsus wafted to the main gate. Gloria watched in her weakened state as the sisters scattered to their respective dorms to prepare for the meeting with the Mothers in the chapel. Cassandra glowered at her.
“At least you finally made yourself useful to the Sisterhood, huh? Still pathetic though, never forget it.”
Gloria had no energy to argue. She watched as Cassandra ran toward her friends, Timea and Philippa. Together, they modeled off toward Dorm L. A minute later, Gloria’s friends, Faelina and Osara helped her up.
“You okay?” Faelina asked as she flung Gloria’s limp arm over her shoulder.
Gloria nodded despite feeling terrible. The pain had been gradually returning since Mother Meirothea left.
“Of course, she’s not okay,” Osara chimed. “Try having your life-force stolen from you. Where do you get so much energy to give anyway, Glo’?”
Gloria and Faelina exchanged quick stares, but none of them answered.
“Anyway, we need to get ready for chapel quickly,” Osara continued. “We don’t have much time. Do you think you’ll be well enough in time for chapel, Gloria? I mean, Philippa’s a healer, so if we can get her to—”
“No chance,” Faelina interjected. “Our hatred toward Cassandra extends to her people. Besides, that arrogant bitch wouldn’t let us have her anyway, control freak that she is.”
Gloria smiled at Faelina’s definitive response. It was what she would have said if she could speak. Although the first-years of Beltraine weren’t taught magic in a structured way, some— through their relations with second-years— had learned to cast simple spells. Cassandra was a standout among the first-years, able to wield complex magic with little practice. Besides Gloria, Cassandra was the only first-year qualified enough to be involved in the Chain of Glory. Gloria only made it because she was the only Channeler at Beltraine.
They walked by an eight- foot- high bronze statue of the three-faced Crown Goddess, the deity the Headmistresses worshiped. Gloria glanced at it as her aides wheeled her by. The towering graven image of the goddess gave her the creeps. Just then, a shadow moved across Gloria’s darkening eyes, jolting her. She levered her head upward, new pain rocketing through her.
“That ugly thing!” Osara exclaimed. “Scares the crap out of me every single time!”
Gloria felt Faelina shivering beside her. Floating above them toward the Shadowgrove forest was the vestal of Crimsonia, Mother of Justice. Out of the three vestals, Gloria considered this one, known as Obsidia, to be the most hideous of all the Mothers’ spectral creations. Exuding a putrid scent that oftentimes preceded her wherever she went, Obsidia was more or less a black ghost with deep gashes on its body resembling torn cloth. To Gloria, she seemed less like a vestal and more like an undead being summoned from somewhere dark and evil. An aspect of Mother Crimsonia, Obsidia was tasked with protecting Beltraine from the inside and enforcing the rules. Of all the vestals, Obsidia’s power was most feared among the sisters since it could entice souls from bodies, a part of an elaborate ability of its creator, Mother Crimsonia.
The three entered Dorm L. Gloria felt the immediate warmth of the enclosure caressing her frame. A pair of mean-looking gargoyle statues leered at them from either side. Inside their mouths were softly burning candles, the only source of light illuminating the expansive hall. Gloria heard a frenzy upstairs in the rooms where the sisters were preparing for the meeting with the Mothers. With Osara by their side, Faelina helped Gloria past dusty gothic tapestries of old witches and wizards— a combination of past students and notable sorcerers from the past. The journey up the winding staircase seemed to last an eternity as Gloria wondered about the implications of possibly missing the meeting in the chapel due to her injured state.
“What do you think the meeting will be about?” Osara inquired behind them. “It’s been ages since we met with a Mother, not to mention all three of them at the same time!”
Faelina shrugged. “ Maybe something to do with the beasts killing people in the city.”
“Vampires?” Osara said.
Gloria’s body twitched. She remembered the vampire they’d just killed, and the raven perched on the log. She was about to ask them both if they saw it, but she remained quiet as the final vestal floated past them on its way down the stairs. The creation of Mother Lysandra, the Mother of Light, Gloria thought the vestal known as Aurelius was the tamest of the three vestals. Though ghostly, its aspect was more immaterial— like vapor with a consciousness. Its wispy essence seemed slow and harmless. Gloria regularly wondered why the vestal belonging to the strictest of the Mothers (Mother Lysandra), was the least frightening. Aurelius was responsible for order in all the Dorms, moving through each structure like a benevolent spirit.
Once they reached the landing of the second floor, the path opened into two narrow aisles astride a second flight of stairs leading to the third floor. The third floor housed the second-year sisters.
“I’ll see you two later,” Osara said. “I hope you feel well enough to make it to the meeting, Gloria.”
“I probably won’t make it,” Gloria said, pleased that her voice had returned. “If not, we’ll meet in our room when you get back?”
Osara nodded before strolling off down the leftmost aisle— the beta aisle. Faelina ushered Gloria to the penultimate room on the alpha aisle. Once inside, Gloria made a beeline for the bed, lusting after sleep. Faelina watched her as she flung herself upon the plush vermilion comforter. It was a bad idea, for her body flared with eye-watering agony. When her pain had somewhat subsided, she noticed Faelina had come over to her bed.
“You have to do it now, or I’ll be late for that meeting,” Faelina whispered.
They stared at each other in silence for a while before Gloria spoke.
“You don’t have to…” she began.
“Whatever, Gloria. You need the energy. We both know you won’t recover if you don’t.”
With that, she lowered herself toward Gloria, who felt her mouth salivating. She knew she couldn’t resist even if she tried. Not a second spared, Gloria bit Faelina’s neck. Faelina moaned as her blood spilled into Gloria's mouth, writhing as Gloria held her head in place as she fed.