The Night Before

Leafstone 

The Capital of Imperium 

He angrily smashed the black cat with his bare hands.

"That could be a spirit, you know." A young golden-haired women, wearing a long tempting, transparent white robe and a necklace made of pink pearls around her neck, said behind him.

"You're no witch," he snarled, wiping the blood from his bear hands with a linen rag. 

"Neither are you, My Lord."

   The man eyed her with astonishment, which was more than vexation. He reached to her boldly and grabbed her from back, grasping her slim waist.

"Do I need to remind you who you are, Alvina?" He brush his stubbly chin roughly against her smooth white neck, poking the pearls. 

"No, My Lord."

"But you will accept your punishment tonight. You already assumed that, didn't you?"

"Forgive me, My Lord," she gasped quietly.

    The place they were standing, was a beautiful garden and it was dimly shining by the new moonlight. Various fragrant smelling flowers - Aster, Hellebore, Dianthus were blossoming with their own beauty. Behind the garden, an edifice was standing on the ground, it was made of black stone and kind of looked scary. The blunt, light, busy chattering of the people in the palace could be heard from here.

      The long, broad-shouldered man was a famous knight in the kingdom of Imperium and his name was Ser Moriah Callan. He was powerful, young, cruel, although handsome, but he didn't have any mercy in his hollow mind for the normal people. He hunted people down who were in a rage with him, anyone in his way.

"Wait for me in bed," Moriah whispered, breathing out against her chest.

"My pleasure," said Alvina seductively, brushing his cheeks with her long fingers, then smiled at him and left the garden, walking like a princess.

Although she wasn't.

   She was his whore, the closest one. Her parents had abandoned her when she was born, selling her to slave trader in exchange of some gold coin. She was abused, beaten up, humiliated by her evil master, until one day she saw Moriah. 

    He had visited the city, Storm Drone, where she was living then, as one of the princes of the kingdom of Imperium. Moriah bought her from that evil master. She at first didn't believe her freedom was given, although for a second, just for a second, she wanted to believe that. But the Lord of Fate tricked her again, she had became Moriah's new mistress, his twisted and pleasing new toy.

But all of this could be end tomorrow. Because his father, King Ramos was going to die.

And it was tonight.

• • • • •

"Mother, I am hungry!" The little girl named Celandine squealed, pulling her mother's robe impatiently, standing beside the pyre.

Tiara wiped the sweats from her forehead by the back of her hand, then glanced at her daughter, "Wait for a little while, Cellie. Now, go see why your sister is crying."

"She's always crying," whined Celandine before leaving the dirty, broken kitchen.

   Tiara added the last piece of meat and some half-rotted vegetables in the pot, sniffling because of the smoke. She was tired, also feeling tired, the temperature was rising rapidly that week. She covered the boiling meal with an earthen lid, then looked outside of the little window near the chimney.

   Their family was living at a poor neighborhood, it was kind of a slum. Homeless, disowned, wounded, fugitive men, women and children lived there, not everyone was nice to each other, but nobody bothered much Tiara and his cripple husband, Syvian.

"Hey, Hadassah!" She pulled the veil more to her face, calling out the woman ahead of her. The woman, Hadassah, who was gazing intensely at the fire, slowly turned to her.

"You do speak?" She asked coldly.

"Um," Tiara hesitated, there was always a thing she felt about Hadassah, which scared her, but also she was the one who helped her with carrying her miserable life. "Do you feel like the Summer God is angry? I feel like I'm burning, it does make me sick."

Hadassah laughed at her, showing her all white teeth, then suddenly stopped. She pointed her index finger at the sky, whispering like blowing winds.

"Open your eyes at the moon, silly girl."

Tiara breathed heavily at her voice, then lifted her head at the dark sky.

"It's a new moon night," she said.

"Open them more," she hissed like a snake, the flames of fire exploded beside her.

     All she was hearing the flickering sound of the fire, all she was watching the black, vast sky. She couldn't tell how long she was staring, then suddenly, very suddenly, a signum emerged in the middle of the sky. The mark was like two white, sharp, long wings, except they had drops of red blood on them.

Tiara gasped.

"Did you see it?" Hadassah moved closer.

She swallowed hard, panting. "It was, it was a mark. The mark of the Lord of Life!"

"You have eyes, woman," she spoke quietly, turning back to the fire. "I don't have my power since our family was cursed, but I can feel it. I can feel it in my every veil, in my every bone, in my every breath," she grimaced, her eyes turned red because of staring at the fire. 

"What do you feel? What did the the mark mean?" Tiara gripped the tiny window.

"The Devil will rise again," she whispered. "Didn't you hear the legend about Him, when you were tiny as a pot? It is going to be true!"

"But He is the Lord of Life, who gave us life, to live, to breathe!" she said confusedly. "Then why would He need our blood?"

Hadassah stared at her for a moment, then burst into laughter, the horrible sound of her laugh made Tiara shiver.

"Because The Devil doesn't want our blood, you silly, silly girl!" she snarled. "He wants our souls to devour, which nobody can give without blood, without a war."

"Now what do we do? Tell me!" Tiara begged.

Hadassah stood up, staring at the fire with lust, then she slowly stepped a foot in the fire.

"W-what are you doing?" gasped Tiara.

Hadassah looked into her eyes, her eyes turned into red, she couldn't tell whether it was because of the heat or tears or the pain.

"Give Him what He desires," she muttered.

"I can not do that. I have a family!"

Hadassah held her palms up at the fire, smiling and chanted, "Pohltit toto tělo, spálit toto tělo."

The flames consumed her.

• • • • •

Celandine brushed her shoulder gently, staring at her little sister. Her name was Pluvia, which meant rain, as she was born in a stormy rainy day.

"Why do you always cry so much?" Cellie mumbled, pulling the quilt quietly over her. "Father should have named you Crying Princess," she laughed, then stopped when she thought of his father. 

    Her father Syvian was crippled, cursed by a mighty witch who had been in disguise, a few years ago. The witch prophesied that he would never walk in his living life again and it had come true. Her mother worked so hard to not keep themselves starving, but it was for so tiring and hard for her. 

Celandine let out a long breath.

Suddenly, wind started to blow in the room, putting out the candles instantly, a mysterious voice started whispering.

She flinched, glancing at the flickering flames of the candles around the room, didn't understand from where the wind was coming from.

"Mother!" she called out with fear, moving closer to her little sister Pluvia, shivering uncontrollably.

All the candles went out completely at that moment.

"Don't scream, little Cellie," a white, cold fog started to circle around her. "Your mother is not coming here. And have faith in me, it is not going to hurt, ha ha!" that rattling laugh buzzed in her ears.

Celandine covered her ears with her hands and closes her eyes. "Whatever you are, a demon or a lonely soul, don't hurt my sister. Don't come near us," she whispered.

"Oh, uh," the voice made a terrible sound. "Little Cellie, you love your little sister that much? Then, I should not harm her, should I?"

She hugged her sister tightly, then slowly opened her eyes. The fog was still circling around the room, roaming like a ghost. Her heart was bursting, but she gathered courage to ask the voice a question.

"Are you a good soul?" her voice barely made a sound, she tried to control her breathing and muttered silently the prayers which her mother had taught her once. "If you're not, then what do you want from me?"

The voice shrieked horribly, the fog started to circle around the bed more, density increasing, which caused her see almost nothing.

"I want your body to possess it by my soul," the voice whispered greedily. "A beautiful, young body like you, would successfully get my work done."

Celandine stiffened, her heart racing like a mad horse. "What will happen when you possess my body? Why do you want to do this to me? Please, have mercy!" 

"You silly girl!" the voice chuckled. "You are saying like you have a choice to not give me your body," it paused for a second, moving closer to the girl. "I, Hadassah, will resurrect my true body and power by in return of your flesh. And it will be tomorrow." 

"No, no, please don't do this to me!" Celandine begged the voice, crying hard. 

The mysterious voice, Hadassah's soul laughed cruelly and started her possession spell. Two scary hands like roots came out from the mist and grabbed the little girl's head and continued to chant, "Cestuj mou duši do nitra této hlavy, zmocni se jí, zmocni se jí."

Celandine squeezed her eyes tightly.