The New Pantheon - Ch. 4

It's been a crazy time for me. I wish I had a better reason for the delay, but I unfortunately don't.

Anyway, here's hoping I finish the next chapter faster.

--

It took a year of studying and debating the Codex Magicae to determine if a High Priestess could even be charged from the accusation that caused her removal. While the legality of removing a High Priestess from her position by a unanimous vote of her regional congregation was written in clear language, what occurred afterwards did not have the same clarity.

There was precedent for the removal. Four High Priestesses had been removed from their positions by the same mechanism since the founding of the Confederation of Covens in 1394. None of the prior four saw those High Priestesses accused and convicted after they were removed from power. The method for their removal was intentionally designed to be a difficult and fraught process. A unanimous vote prevented a rival from assembling a simple majority of the congregation. The vote assured that the reason for removal was egregious and urgent. In six hundred years, it had only been invoked four times. Nora Abernathy was the fifth.

Defending the removed High Priestess from further charges was Blair, Daughter of Maisie. Though to say she was strictly defending Nora and not the Codex itself wouldn't be wholly accurate. Collette, Daughter of Camille, The Arch Priestess of the Confederation had appointed her to consult on this case. Blair was a former High Priestess for the Coven's of the United Kingdom and Ireland. Before that, and after, she was the Priestess of the Daughters of Bruce, one of the few European covens that retained their paternal lineage post Confederation founding. Prior to her time as a Priestess, she trained for ten years in Lyon with the Librarians, studying the Codex to become a Keeper for her ancestral coven. Few had her reputation, training, skill of word and command of oratory.

Trials of this magnitude were held with the Grand Congregation as jury. This trial was to be held in the Grand Chamber where the congregation convened. A brightly lit domed chamber constructed from white marble, the braziers illuminating the chamber with nary a shadow. The dome threw the words of the speaker like an amphitheater. The witch addressing the congregation from the center of the room could be heard by all with only a whisper.

The Grand Congregation was comprised of the High Priestesses of the Confederation. Three from the United States. One from Canada. One from Mexico. Five comprised the remainder of Central and South America. One from the Caribbean. One representing the UK and Ireland. Lastly, the seven from various countries and regions across continental Europe, with only France, Germany, and Italy having a High Priestess of their own. The nineteen most politically powerful witches in Europe and the Americas.

The term for a High Priestess was ten years, with no second term permitted. Every ten years the regions of the Confederation held their elections simultaneously. The election process began at the start of the ninth term year. First, the Priestesses of the voting covens in the region announced their nominee. Only a Priestess could be a nominee. They were known well in advance, as most candidates would have been campaigning for a year prior. From here, the regions had a year to debate, deliberate, and carry out their vote. The first round of voting was to decide if they moved onto the voting itself. Deliberations rarely lasted longer than a week, however, the longest period of deliberation was nearly the full year.

A simple majority won the election. If no one took the vote, the two with the most votes would continue into a runoff and start the process again. Deliberation would occur, and then the vote. Simple majority won the election. The current High Priestess would complete her term, and transition at the start of the decade with the High Priestess In Waiting.

Emergency elections had similar, but slightly different rules and procedures. They could be triggered by the death, resignation, or removal of a High Priestess, and were designed to be swift as to not leave the region leaderless. The most common reason was death. Only one High Priestess had ever resigned. No Priestess could nominate herself for an emergency election, and there were no restrictions of being a Priestess at all, or even a member of a voting coven. A capable unknown could rapidly rise, though this had never happened. The elected Emergency High Priestess assumed the role immediately and finished the term of her predecessor. Upon completion of the term, she was still eligible for a full term and could be a nominee for the next election assuming she met the prerequisites.

At the start of the decade, the newly elected High Priestesses would convene in Lyon, France and have another election to decide the Arch Priestess amongst themselves. The Arch Priestess would then make her appointments to key positions within the confederation with the approval of the Grand Congregation. The most important of those positions being the Keeper of the Codex Magicae.

At the center of the mouth of the continuous high table, Blair, Daughter of Maisie, stood, ready to deliver her opening statements, objecting that a High Priestess was subject to charge from the same accusation after her removal. Blair was a fierce old witch. She was in her seventies, but still as sharp witted and spry as a woman half her age. She had thick red and white hair, like an aged brick, but aged with grace rather than fight the inevitable.

Arranged around Blair and seated seven feet above her were the High Priestesses. They all sat in a semicircle of a continuous high table made of oak, charred black by magically projected fire, with their high-backed seats evenly spaced apart.

"Before we begin with opening statements, may I make one of my own?" A voice echoed. The room turned to one of the High Priestess, and the Arch Priestess permitted her to continue. "Thank you Arch Priestess. I Annette, Daughter of Anita, the Emergency High Priestess for the Eastern United States, wish to declare my intent to recuse myself as a juror for this potential trial."

"You will be heard on this matter," Collette replied. "Continue."

Collette was the most senior in the room, and in nearly every category. She was well into her eighties but looked more youthful than some of the witches in their fifties. Compared to the white, grey, and silver haired witches around her, her hair kept its ink black color, fullness, and sheen. She wore a blue cloak with yellow stitch and trims. On her finger she wore a ring with the sigil for the extinct French noble House Vermandois. Extinct on the male line anyway.

Collette had been the Keeper of the Codex twice through two different Grand Congregations. She had served out the terms of witches who died during their terms three times, then didn't run for an election for herself until this last one. In total she had been a High Priestess for eighteen non-consecutive years, the longest time ever served. She was the Keeper for twelve total years, twice leaving the role to serve as Emergency High Priestess of the French Covens, but those twelve years were still the longest. She had developed a well-earned reputation as a stern, yet kind and even-tempered leader.

Annette was a respected and well-liked elder. She was slightly older than middle-aged, but not what most would consider to be elderly. Her face was wrinkled, but as a charming and loving grandmother rather than a fairytale hag. Her hair had long been white, but streaks of her youthful red remained still. Her eyes never aged; a dark amber, like a smoldering sun at dusk. Her thin body was concealed beneath a blue cloak she wore with the hood down. Resting on her chest above her concealed cleavage was a Gold Spanish doubloon that had been modified into a necklace. The necklace had been worn by the Priestesses of the Sisters of the Province of Carolina since it was first worn by Marianne, Daughter of Mary.

"Thank you. Nora, Daughter of Alma, is being accused of using her position of authority to murder Ophelia, Daughter of Johanna. Ophelia was a dear friend of mine, and the mother of Indigo, my predecessor in this position who resigned after the crisis her emergency election was meant to remedy had been resolved. Due to that, I cannot say with certainty my ability to remain impartial during this potential trial. Also, there is a high likelihood I may be called to give testimony against her. I wish to give that testimony..."

"... Objection Arch Priestess," Blair interrupted with her thick Glasgow accent. "Even her statement that she intends to be a witness and is recusing herself because of it is prejudicial against the accused."

"I agree, but if she didn't recuse herself now, you'd be objecting later that she didn't recuse herself earlier. The recusal is valid and was submitted at the least prejudicial time."

"I must state, if she were to recuse herself at this stage of the proceeding, if we arrive with a near spilt decision, the current congregation would be even in number. This could needlessly prolong the process," Blair argued.

"Then it will be prolonged," Collette replied. "The truth doesn't have a watch. It arrives when it does."

"Then I wish to petition that her testimony be barred from the proceedings should a trial occur," Blair requested.

"I have testimony to give. There is nothing that precludes a High Priestess from testifying," Annette shot back.

"You yourself stated you cannot be certain of your ability to be impartial..."

"... as a jury member, not as a witness," Annette replied, harshly. Too harshly.

"Annette, are there others who may be called to give testimony to the same event and information you would be testifying for?" Collette asked.

Annette sighed, looked at the table, then back up after collecting herself.

"I was not the only witness to this event," Annette confirmed.

"Very well. Due to your conflict of interest, and others being able to testify to the events you would, I will pass both motions. Do any in this congregation oppose?" The chamber was silent. "Annette, Daughter of Anita is recused, and her testimony is barred. High Priestess, you may remain here, but you have no vote, or ability to question. Blair, Daughter of Maisie, please begin your statement."

"Arch Priestess, High Priestesses, thank you for the honor of speaking in this chamber again. Before I begin, may I humbly request, not with intent of minimizing your positions, but for the sake of brevity, if this hearing can continue without honorifics and all present simply be referred to as Sister, regardless of authority?"

"I have no objections to that request," Collette replied, and neither did the rest of the table.

"Thank you, sisters. I am Blair, Daughter of Maisie," Blair began, turning in a half circle as she spoke to address all of them. Her faded thick red hair swung in tandem with her movements. "Before I begin proper, allow me a brief indulgence to go over my history. I am Priestess of the Daughters of Bruce, as my mother Maisie was before me. One of the few Confederation Covens to keep to our older traditions of paternal lineage. We Scots, we honor our mother and our fathers in equal measure, witch or not. I served as a High Priestess. I studied the Codex and trained as a Keeper for ten years..."

"... we're well aware of your credentials..." the current UK and Ireland High Priestess, Harmony, Daughter of Melody began in an Irish accent, but was cut short.

"... Sister, it is customary and proper for the speaker to introduce themselves and verify their relevance to the issue being examined. So, unless the speaker has said something truly egregious, it is improper to interrupt any statements," Collette chastised, already speaking as to honor Blair's request regarding rank. Harmony was a relatively young High Priestess, early forties, and her lack of knowledge regarding the proper decorum was obvious. Harmony swallowed, took a deep breath, and nodded to acknowledge her mistake. Blair saw for what it was; the Irish couldn't handle a Scot speaking. "Continue Blair."

"Thank you, sister," Blair continued. "Since you're all aware of my history, I'll just get right to it. A High Priestess can be removed from her position. This is a well-known law of the Confederation. That's not what's in dispute. The precedent for this is four preceding examples of a High Priestess being removed. 1517, the removal of High Priestess of Europe Charlotte, Daughter of Elloise. Removed for forcing her own daughter to consume an abortifacient without her knowledge. 1694, the High Priestess of the British Americas Matilda, Daughter of Joslyn, for directly profiting from the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade. 1702, the High Priestess of the Caribbean Islands, same offense as the previous. And lastly 1778, High Priestess of the British Americas, again, this time Rebecca, who discarded her maternal title and called herself the Daughter of Liberty, was removed for transparently choosing a side in the American Revolution, thus endorsing a war the Confederation declared neutrality toward.

"Rebecca's case I must admit likely had less to do with the offense itself, than the fact her entire congregation were British loyalist. Even then some were British before they were witches, and unanimous is unanimous. But the other three? Two were slavers. The other murdered a child in the most sacred of places; the womb of the mother," Blair said, and rested her hands on her lower stomach. "As of mother of seven children, it churns my stomach thinking about it. The Codex doesn't clearly ban abortion, though the unambiguous wording of the sanctity of life and the cherished role of motherhood would make such a declaration redundant. Even if such a narrow interpretation could be found, it certainly doesn't endorse it and certainly doesn't permit you kill the babe in the womb of another woman.

"These were egregious crimes. Murder. Slavery. Supporting American Independence," Blair said, and the room echoed in laughter.

"Please stay on point," Collette ordered, but rather jovially.

"Of course. I apologize to the yanks, though as a Scot I fully understand the desire," Blair said, and waited for the room to subside. "As I was saying, egregious crimes according to the written word of the Codex. Yet none were charged for those crimes after their removal. Why? Does any sister present deny these are horrible sins worthy of charge? No, because they clearly are. Yet, they saw no such charges. I ask again; Why?"

Blair let her echo in the chamber fade to silence, then let the room remain still as she paced to the right, her footsteps replacing her voice. Once in a new position, she continued.

"The question being asked today regards precedent. Some would say, there is no precedent, because no High Priestess removed from her position has ever faced the charge in the first place, so the precedent is being decided now. I'd argue that's not lack of precedent; It is the precedent. Let's look at the process for removing a High Priestess and compare it to any other trial."

Blair paced back to the middle.

"A witch accuses a High Priestess of a serious crime. Her congregation convenes and hears the evidence. The High Priestess is afforded a chance to speak in her own defense or have others do it for her. The congregation votes, and if that vote is unanimous, she is then found guilty and removed. This sounds remarkably similar to a trial, does it not?" Blair paced to the other side. "They sound similar, because they're both trials."

"I'm not sure on this chamber's familiarity with mundane legal theory, but my husband is a barrister. That's a lawyer for my Americans. Our legal framework is similar and comes from the same commonwealth origin adopted from the Confederation Reforms of 1831. Can a witch who was tried for a crime, be tried again for the same accusation? No Sisters. That's double jeopardy. May a witch not be demanded to defend herself from the faint echo of a past accusation already faded. The motion to remove a High Priestess is a trial, and as such the accusation that removed her from power by the unanimous vote of her congregation is a jury decision, and the sentence is the dissolution of her authority. This is the precedent.

"As such, Nora, daughter of Alma, cannot be charged and face a trial, because she already has faced a trial. The decision was made, and she was sentenced to lose her position. I ask you to uphold this precedent, sisters. Thank you for your time."

A simple majority would carry the case into a trial, or a dismissal. If it came to a trial, it would need to be unanimous to convict her, but one sister more than half would be needed to even get the case that far. After the arguments in favor of a trial were heard, the Grand Congregation found themselves gridlocked at nine opposed against nine in favor. Annette's recusal had left the congregation evenly divided just as Blair had warned.

After a day of deliberation, it was decided to return tomorrow. More was heard, and they were locked again. This repeated for a week. Then a month. Nearly a year later, they were still undecided. One day a High Priestess would defect, only to discover one went to her side during deliberation.

"Assuming we have no testimony today, we shall just resume our deliberation," Collette said, clearly exhausted of this trial to have a trial.

"We do have new testimony today," was heard from the witch arguing for the trial.

"I wasn't informed of this," Blair objected.

"Nor do you have to be, this isn't a trial," Collette replied. "We'll decide her suitability to speak on the matter," Collette said and positioned herself appropriately. "Bring her in."

Footsteps were heard and the congregation watched a woman enter the chamber. A young woman, early twenties, with straight blonde hair hanging freely to her midback. She walked with her fingers interlocked and cradled beneath her perfectly pregnant belly. She wore a clean white summer dress more in fashion in the mundane world, but she still looked absolutely radiant.

"Arch Priestess, thank you..." the woman began with a weak smile.

"... one of the first decisions we made was those honorifics be discarded during this proceeding. Just sister, dear," Collette replied.

"Of course, sister," the woman replied, her smile wider, her indigo eyes blinking.

"I must ask," Francheska, daughter of Freyda, High Priestess of The Gran Colombia Covens started, and the young woman turned to her. "How far along are you sister?"

"If I spilled water on the floor while standing here, I wouldn't be surprised," she replied, and the room laughed with her. "My first child before you ask. I'm very excited."

"Can we retrieve you a chair?" another High Priestess asked. Stefanie, daughter of Odette, High Priestess of the Caribbean Covens.

"Thank you, sister, but I'll be alright, my statement won't take long."

"We'll trust you, but if at any time you feel like you need to sit, please let us know," Francheska said, and the young woman thanked her again. "I apologize for the delay. New motherhood is just so precious and I couldn't help myself."

"No harm was done," Collette replied, and looked to the young woman again. "You are young, so I must ask your level of familiarity with the decorum of this kind of proceeding?"

"Less familiar than I should be," she admitted. "I am four and twenty, sisters."

"Fear not, we shall walk you through the process. Sisters, please be gracious," Collette said, and the table nodded. "You will begin with your given name, and your mother's given name, then a brief introduction to validate your authority to speak on the matter, and finally your statement which is relevant to the matter at hand. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sister," the young woman replied.

"Wonderful," Collette replied. "You may begin."

"Sisters, I thank you for your time. I am Indigo, daughter of Ophelia," Indigo began, and the room began to murmur.

"Objection..." Blair announced from her side of the chamber.

"... on what grounds? Her name being Indigo?" Harmony asked, and Blair paused.

"I agree, I don't see the offense worthy of objection," Collette said.

"On the grounds that she's the daughter of the woman Nora is accused of murdering. It's prejudicial by its very nature. In a trial I'd have no objection, but this is a motion to even decide if a trial can move forward. This is a question on the legal precedent, not the evidence or lack thereof of the accusation. No offense deary, but you're a babe yourself. She's never read the Codex, or interpreted it, or..."

"... sorry to interrupt," Francheska apologized. "But yes, she has. You would know that if you let her speak. If you recall, she was an Emergency High Priestess."

"Objection heard, and taken into consideration, but please allow her to complete her introduction," Collette ordered, and Blair loudly exhaled and left the center of the chamber. "I will find the objection valid, if you begin testifying as a witness to the accusation. Do you understand?"

"Yes sister."

"Resume."

"I am the current Priestess of the Sisters of the Keys, like my mother before me. For a brief time as our sister stated, I was elected as Emergency High Priestess of the Eastern United States, before I resigned my position once the crisis I was elected to oversee was resolved."

"You do know that makes you the only High Priestess in history to resign?" Collette asked curiously.

"I did not know that," Indigo admitted. "I was elected for one purpose, and that purpose was complete. However, because I was a High Priestess, and left in good standing, I was permitted to, and have over this last year, read the Codex." Indigo didn't turn to Blair, who tried not to respond at all to her own mistake. "I will attempt to limit my statement to the matter at hand."

"A brisk view of the Codex is not an in-depth examination of..." Blair said while approaching the center again.

"... your prior objection was that she's never read it," Collette snapped. "She has met your own initial qualifications. She's permitted to speak on this matter as long as she remains on this matter," Collette said, and Blair slowly stepped away again.

"The Codex has laws. It's how we govern ourselves. Organize. Create a small pocket of order in a universe of chaos. That's not all I took away from it, sisters. I saw, I finally saw what it means to be a witch. It's choice. Even with the examples that our Sister Blair used to express her view of this precedent we are currently examining, what made the crimes of those High Priestess so sinister was not the crime itself, but the choice the crime denied. To remove the choice of a woman to be a mother. The ultimate destruction of agency that is slavery. The crime of Rebecca wasn't taking a side in a war; The true crime was denying her right to choose what side she supported. We are the paragons of choice Sisters. The protectors of agency. The personification of self-directed purpose.

"Somewhere, along the way, I think we forgot that. The Confederation was founded so we could better hide from a world trying to destroy us. It was necessary and pragmatic, but that was six hundred years ago. No witch has died from a witch trial in a century, yet we still cower from the cold heat radiating from long extinguished pyres. We hold to static, immobile, unmoving, and dogmatic decisions made at a time no longer relevant to our current circumstances. Our existence is choice, and yet we outsource our decisions to a dusty tome locked in a room few are permitted to read?"

"Objection!" Blair shouted and stomped back into the middle.

"First warning sister," Collette said.

"I will not stand and listen to an unripe turnip denigrate our most sacred texts. You were the Keeper for over a decade, you must..."

"... I must?" Collette interrupted, her tone instantly hostile. "Do not forget yourself sister. Just because we removed our titles for ease of conversation doesn't mean we are equals in this proceeding. I am still the Arch Priestess, and I will not stand for someone telling me what I must think about something. One more outburst and you will be out of this chamber until I decide otherwise."

"Very well, Arch Priestess. Apologies," Blair said, and stepped away from the middle.

"That aside. Young lady, you will tread, very, carefully," Collette said, this warning directed at Indigo. "I hold to the reverence of the texts in equal measure to Sister Blair. You are entitled to your own interpretation that I'll hear, but I will not hear dusty tome to describe it. Not in my chamber. Understood?"

"Yes, Arch Priestess," Indigo said, and took in a deep breath.

"Continue."

"I'm not here to argue there is no precedent, for there is precedent. Sister Blair is astute, thorough in her words, and correct to the letter of the Codex," Indigo said, looking to Blair, nodding, then turning back. "But not the spirit. We are witches. All of us. The precedent feels wrong, because it is. We allowed our High Priestesses, our arbiters of wisdom and grace, to murder and enslave because The Codex told us nothing more could be done. That's not a slap on their wrists, but a spit in the eyes of their victims.

"Precedent has purpose, I won't deny this. I can't. It is often a guiding light to truth. A constant in a sea of variables. A life raft of salvation in a horrific ocean destined to sink our collective ship. But not always. Sometimes, it's just a shield for the guilty to hide behind. Your duty is not to always abide by it. You are elected because our sisters believe you hold wisdom enough to know when it's being perverted. To know when the spirit outweighs the written word. They trust that you know the difference.

"Thank you for your time, sisters," Indigo finished, and awaited a reply.

"Thank you as well, Indigo," Collette said and looked around the table. "If there are no questions of you, you are released." The table was quiet, so Indigo gave the best bow her belly would permit and saw herself out. "Sisters, we shall once more deliberate."

The next day the Grand Congregation convened for the last time on this matter.

"We have finally reached a majority," Collette said. "Blair, Daughter of Maisie, please see Nora, Daughter of Alma, into the chamber to hear our decision."

Nora Abernathy was led into the chamber, flanked by two witches acting as her security. She could barely hide the snide grin fighting to stay beneath an otherwise stoic expression. It took longer than she expected, but she was finally going to be released. She lost her authority, but thankfully nothing else.

"I did send an invitation to Indigo to be present. Did the notice reach her?" Collette asked Annette.

"Yes, it did, sister. However, she will not be able to attend. Soon after her statement yesterday, she entered labor. I received word an hour ago that she gave birth to a healthy baby girl," Annette explained, and Collette grinned. "Mother and daughter are healthy."

"Wonderful news," Francheska said.

"Seeing how we're waiting for no others, let's conclude this after long last," Collette said, and turned to Nora.

"Nora, Daughter of Alma, for the last year we have deliberated on one single question; Can a High Priestess removed from her position, be charged again for the same accusation that saw her removed? Blair, Daughter of Maisie, your arguments and knowledge of the Codex are exemplary. The precedent is clear."

Nora's grin forced its way through.

"However."

The grin sunk into her face, and her chin slowly sank to her chest, leaving her mouth agape. "No," Nora mumbled to herself. "No, no."

"Fourteen voted that precedent, while important, sometimes needs to be evaluated and scrutinized. The spirit outweighs the word in this case. Due to this majority vote, Nora, Daughter of Alma, you will face trial for the murder of Ophelia, Daughter of Johanna, the ordered execution of her coven, gross abuse of authority, and the dereliction of your trusted duty. Blair, again, you are an exemplary advocate for the Codex, and this decision is not a reflection of your ability."

"Gracious of you to say, sister," Blair said with a bow.

"The date of the trial is still to be determined. Until that time, you will remain in custody. The congregation is dismissed. Prepare yourselves for a trial."

--

"Take me to Sebastian Dela Vega," Indigo said to the Compendium of Doors. The room remained still, and she was about to repeat it, before the room slowly began to spin. "It's been weird recently."

"Weird?" Timothy asked.

"Slow. I'd try to examine it to find out why, but if you try to examine how the Compendium works, it'll throw you out of the nearest door," Indigo explained.

The room began to pick up steam, before it jolted by like a bullet train. It then suddenly came to an instantaneous stop, the suddenness knocking Sister Frost off her feet, but Theo caught her.

"You klutz," Theo said and began to straighten her habit. Sister Frost thanked her while trying to swat her hands away. "It was twisted."

"I can straighten it myself, thank you," Sister Frost said. Theo reached to touch her face, and the Sister reeled back. "What're you doing."

"Your hair is poking out. I was a nun too, that shit drove me crazy," Theo said and was allowed to push her hair back behind her coif.

"You two are adorable," Indigo said and Theo huffed. "What?"

"You think we're licking kitty?"

"Theo, what the fuck?" Timothy asked, and Theo made a sarcastic face at him.

"Nebraska," Indigo said and the room started spinning again. She looked at Timothy who sighed. "I warned you."

"I didn't object," Timothy replied.

"Nebraska?" Theo asked. The Compendium stopped and Indigo opened the door. Theo leaned over to see out the door and only saw a corn field. "What the hell's in Nebraska?"

"You," Indigo said. Her eyes glowed with the color of her name, and she lifted Theo with her magic and threw her out the door.

"You fucking bitch!" Theo shouted as she tumbled across the dusty ground and vanished behind the rows of corn.

"Theo!" Sister Frost shouted, but Timothy held up his arm to stop her from leaving as well.

"She did it to herself, we'll come back to get her later. I promise," Timothy said. Theo jumped out of the cornfield and was nearly at the door.

"Don't you dare close that fucking do..." was all Theo could say before Indigo shut the door and severed the connection. Theo opened the door to the portable toilet and saw, well a portable toilet. "Nebraska. Fucking Nebraska. Really? Nebraska?"

"Child, I would have thrown you out the door too," Greca said in her mind.

"Oh, shut up you self-righteous ghost," Theo said and slammed the toilet's door. Then caved in the plastic door with a hard heel strike. "Fuck!"

"Bring me a door to Sebastian Dela Vega," Indigo requested, and the room began spinning again.

"Was that a little much?" Sister Frost asked. "What does licking a cat mean that's so offensive?"

"You sweet, sweet innocent nun," Indigo said and playfully patted her head. "You really want me to explain?"

"On second thought, I think I might prefer ignorance on this one," Sister Frost relented.

"Atta girl," Indigo said and faced the still spinning doorways. "We haven't caught up in a while. How's working with Theo been?"

"I would like to visit more, but you know, the dead never sleep. Theo's exhausting, but I love her," Sister Frost said, and Indigo chuckled. "Not like that."

"Wouldn't care if you did," Indigo said. The doors suddenly snapped to a stop. Sister Frost was thrown again, but this time Timothy caught her. "Takes some time to get used to that."

"How are the kids?" Sister Frost asked. "I'm sorry I haven't visited since before Johan was born."

"The dead never sleep, like you said," Timothy replied. "And neither do babies."

"We're all still friends, right? Friends need to be there for the big stuff. Important stuff. Kids are pretty important, right?" Sister Frost asked.

"Michelle," Indigo said and turned to her. "It's okay. We know you want to be there, and that matters. Life has a tendency of not cooperating."

"I know Theo is a handful. Trust me, I know. But she's saved my life more times than I can count. She's an incredible Fractured, and I'm lucky to have her experience to lean on."

"Better than me?" Timothy teased.

"Way better," Sister Frost replied and smiled at him. "I could do with less profanity though."

The Compendium stopped Indigo turned to the door. It was a large arched doorway with two doors. Heavy wooden construction, steel supports and thick rivets. Like the door to a medieval castle.

"We have no idea what's behind this door. Are we ready?" Indigo asked, and the two of them nodded in reply. "Here we go."

The door was heavy, but Indigo still resisted the use of her magic to assist with pulling it open. Timothy grabbed the door above her hands and yanked it back, and Indigo stepped through the door first. Timothy followed, and Sister Frost entered last.

Timothy stopped inside and looked in both directions. Rough and uneven stone floors. Jagged stone walls lit by torch with smoke-stained scorch marks above them. The fire hissed and crackled, the subtle sound nearly loud due to the echo of no other noise to compete against it for an audience. A glossy, wet, and cold sweat slithered down the walls and dripped from the ceiling like indoor rain. A windless chill bit at their exposed skin.

"Weird," Indigo said, though it was in the tone of a question for herself spoken aloud.

"In what way?" Sister Frost asked.

"When I ask for a particular person, it takes me to the room the person is in. No one's here. The Compendium is... I don't know. It's never done this," Indigo explained, and looked back and forth between the ends of the hall. She closed the door and broke the connection to the Compendium.

"How do we even know we're in the right place?" Timothy asked.

"I trust we are, it's just... we are, okay?" Indigo asked in annoyance.

"I'll trust your trust," Timothy replied, and Sister Frost concurred.

"Split up?" Sister Frost asked, and they both looked at her. "I'm kidding."

"Oh, the Sister makes jokes now?" Timothy tease and started walking down the hall. Someone needed to pick a direction after all. Timothy heard two sets of feet behind him.

"If you recall, I was raised in Boston Timothy. I have all kinds of jokes," Sister Frost replied. "Here's one. Why did the nun cross the road?"

"Why oh why, did the nun cross the road?" Timothy asked. Timothy kept walking and waited for the punchline. He laughed to himself before it arrived. He didn't even notice that their footsteps stopped. "You can't leave me hanging like that. Why did the nun cross the road?" Timothy turned around, and Sister Frost and his wife had vanished into thin air. "Well fuck"

--

"Why oh why, did the nun cross the road?" Timothy asked. The Sister grinned to herself, turned back to Indigo who was looking behind them, and turned back to Timothy with a toothy smile.

"Mine ya fucking bisnus," Sister Frost replied with her repressed Bostonian accent. She laughed as she said it but stopped laughing when she realized Timothy was gone.

"Timothy?" She asked aloud. "Timothy! Indigo, did you?" Sister Frost asked while turning around. Indigo was gone as well, and she paused in place. She made the sign of cross and exhaled. "Oh dear."

--

Indigo followed behind Sister Frost. Timothy took lead and picked a direction to walk. Of all the things she loved about her husband, that was the one at the top of the list. Bold decisiveness. Taking charge. It was all the more courageous considering compared to when they first met, Timothy was far weaker than her. Indigo was a witch; he was just a man. The strength of spirit need not be overlooked. The moral anchor, but without harsh judgement, which isn't to say without judgement outright. Timothy could look into the abyss and smile back.

Left or right were the choices. Timothy picked one, and off they went.

Indigo heard a giggle. The unmistakable laughter of a small child. Indigo turned fully around and saw a child, a young boy, staring at her from around the corner. The moment he knew he'd been seen, he giggled again and darted away.

"Sebastian?" Indigo asked. "Timothy, Michelle. I just saw a..." Indigo said as she turned, but they had evaporated. "Shit." Indigo turned back and the boy was at the corner again, leaning further out, grinning, eyes locked, but not retreating. "Sebastian?"

"Indigo!" a whisper screamed from behind her. The tone had intensity, but when it reached her, the volume was a soft breath on her ear. Indigo turned to face the wind, saw nothing, and turned back. The boy was gone again.

Indigo closed her eyes and focused. She felt the energy of the room around her. She tried to find Michelle's energy. She attempted to touch Timothy's. She knew his energy intimately. They were there, feet away, but unable to be seen, heard, or touched. The room itself felt wrong. Constantly generating a fog of concealment to hide things within arm's reach.

Enchantments?

Indigo tried to feel for a condition. She wanted to discern if the room itself had laws. She exhaled through pursed lips, audibly, her breath slightly whistling. Once her lungs were empty she sunk deeper into herself, only able to hear the beat of her heart in her ears.

The room was abnormal. It had its own constitution. Someone or something powerful made this room. A room like this didn't just exist. It was created with purpose and meaning. Worse, it felt like the inside of a creature. Like being digested in the stomach of a leviathan.

"You are a weak imitation," a voice said. Indigo opened her eyes and saw her mother, Ophelia. Sandy blonde hair to her midback. Dark blue robes. The same Indigo eyes. Just as she remembered her.

Indigo felt her heart leap into her throat, and she started to run toward her. She was so overwhelmed with emotion she had to force herself to stop and literally skipped on one foot. "I should have gone through the doorway first. I could've stopped it before it even began. But they were stuck with you."

Ophelia spoke to Indigo's guilt. Her insecurity that she'd never live up to her mother. Ophelia was a once in a generation witch, and Indigo was Indigo. Her mother's power, raw talent, ability to learn and utilize new skills and magic near instantly. A witch other witches would die for, when given the chance not to.

Not a day went by without Indigo, Daughter of Ophelia, feeling like she would never earn her lineage.

Regardless, she knew one thing to be true; her mother was kind.

Ophelia would never place the burden on Indigo if she couldn't carry it. If she struggled, she'd adjust the method of her instruction, rather than demand Indigo bend herself to meet it. Success was greeted with reinforcement. Failure was just another lesson, and Ophelia delighted in teaching so much it made Indigo eager to learn.

Ophelia was kind. Whatever this creature was, it was not her mother.

"My mother would never be so cruel," Indigo replied.

Ophelia began to fall to pieces and drip into a puddle as she approached Indigo. Her hair splashed to the floor. Her robes decayed and crumbled. Her skin chilled to an icy, milky, pale, white. Her hair reformed, but black, and floating as if underwater. Her eyes darkened to a hollow, empty, black.

The enchantments were elaborate. Enchantments were already advanced magic; a discipline Indigo admittedly wasn't adept at. She had trained under the tutelage of her High Priestess Annette, Daughter of Anita, for several years, but she was still years away from being a fraction as well versed as her teacher. Annette had an uncanny sense for enchantments.

"Understand the witch, to understand the magic. Feel the witch, not the magic," Indigo chanted to herself aloud. "Feel the intent to learn the function. Feel the intent to learn the function."

"Enchantments require three things," Indigo recalled from her lessons. Annette had invited her for a weeklong training session. Indigo was a student along with a group of much younger initiates. Young teenaged witches, some of whom were only months removed from their blossoming into witchhood. The girls looked toward Indigo in awe. Indigo, daughter of Ophelia, vanquisher of the Void, a fellow student?

"Anchor. Intent. Condition," Annette said. "Repeat after me. Anchor... intent... Condition... good. Again. Anchor... Intent... Condition. Good. Very good."

"What's your intent?" Indigo asked aloud. The anchor was obviously the space itself. "Separate us? No, no, no, it could never know there would be more than one intruder. That's secondary. Why separate us? Protection. It's protecting something. Or someone? Are you protecting Sebastian?"

The room replied. Indigo felt it groan and sigh. That was a yes.

"Condition. Someone needs to enter the room, that's clear. Anyone who enters the room? No, they'd hit themselves with their own enchantment. How would you spare yourself. Secondary enchanted object to act like a key? Spoken word?"

"Remove this enchanted fog," Indigo spoke aloud, and the room buzzed. Like she said the wrong thing. Meaning, there was a right thing to say. Maybe not a password exactly, but some form of statement or declaration.

"On behalf of the witch Eterna, Daughter of Lilith, we seek council with Sebastian Dela Vega," Indigo declared, and waited. It appeared like the room held its breath with her.

"How do you know that name?" a childlike voice asked. Indigo turned to the corner of the hallway and saw the same boy from before reveal himself and walk toward her.

"Eterna sent us..."

"... nonsense, she's dead," the boy replied. "I will not allow him to rise for this foolishness."

"Pandora has returned," Indigo said, and the boy paused his reply. He closed his eyes and remained still for ten entire seconds. "At the very least she will be soon."

"I do not feel the presence of Pandora. How do you know these names. Ancient. Hidden. Sealed. Names purposefully cached away beneath layers of magic few witches exist that possess power of enough consequence to reveal any of them."

"She's my daughter," Timothy's voice broke through, and Indigo flinched a little as he joined her. "Sorry babe, should have felt the enchantment as we were walking in."

"With what? You're not a Fractured anymore... and how the hell did you break through it?" Indigo asked.

"I asked nicely," Timothy replied simply.

"Of course you did," Indigo sighed while rubbing her forehead, irritated at his odd ability to transverse magic while no longer tethered to it.

"Eterna has rejoined the living. She suggested we speak with Sebastian Dela Vega regarding vampires and Pandora," Timothy explained. "We're running out of time. A vampire was pulled out of the ocean and if it wasn't Pandora..."

"... then it's her disciple," the boy said. "He will seek her out. This could also be our chance to eliminate her once and for all. Very well," he boy said and looked to Indigo. "Magical blood will awaken him."

It felt like a cold snap. A shift in pressure so massive Timothy gasped to catch his breath. Indigo's hair tangled in the wind. Sister Frost was suddenly next to them, holding her nail pendant on a penal rosary, and screaming a bible verse to repel demons.

"... fell among thorns, and the thorns growing up with it, choked it!" Sister Frost prayed with all her might... and then slowly looked around the room. "What treachery is this?"

"Welcome back," Timothy teased. "What'd you see?"

"The demon Belial is here. Him and Theo have a history, and he was hoping to take advantage of our separation," Sister Frost said, still at the ready in a defensive posture. "It was not our first combat. He holds a grudge, much like Flauros."

"Theo exorcised him when she was my exorcist. He's a glutton for punishment. It's not revenge he wants. He really digs her," Timothy said with a small laugh.

"What?" Sister Frost asked. "That's why... wait... what happened," she asked and looked around herself. "Where did he go."

"Much like my grandmother, he was never here," Timothy said and looked around.

"I get a demon, and you get your grandmother?" Sister Frost asked.

"I'd prefer the demon," Timothy said, and meant it. "Enchantment's been lifted."

"So, it has," Indigo replied.

There was never a hallway. The room revealed itself as a relatively small space. Twenty by twenty feet, ten-foot ceiling. The cold stone walls remained, as did the door they emerged from, the opposite wall lined floor to ceiling, adjacent wall to adjacent wall with wooden casks. At the center of the room was a casket raised off the floor on a stone platform reached by two steps from all sides and illuminated by four braziers positioned at the corners of the steps. The casket itself was a dark bronze, knee high, constructed so cleanly one could hardly see the seam separating the lid from the bottom.

"Magical blood awakes him?" Indigo asked, and Timothy shrugged. "Is Sebastian a vampire? Did Eterna send us to wake up a vampire?"

"Do you trust her?" Timothy asked, and Indigo exhaled, contemplating her answer. "You can say no."

"Can you generate sunlight?" Sister Frost asked, and Indigo nodded. "Have that ready. It destroyed the ones who attacked Theo and me."

"I trust her, but be ready for the worst," Timothy cautioned.

Indigo's eyes illuminated and the lid of the casket slide off to the side and tumbled once down the stairs. The crash echoed in the small room for several second before the three of them carefully stepped to the casket and looked down.

Inside was a husk of a body. Dusty. Ashy. Skin stretched across bone. Clothing rotted to tatters that would crumble if touched. The mummified remains of a poor soul sealed away into darkness. Was he sealed on his own volition?

"Lilith," Indigo muttered to herself, coughed from the wretched smell, and placed the crook of her elbow to her nose to smother the stench. She hovered the opposite hand over the corpse. "I can't believe it."

"Believe what?" Sister Frost asked, stifled down some vomit, but managed to hold herself together. "Oh lord."

"This thing isn't dead," Indigo replied, her voice muffled by the fabric of her shirt.

"Magical blood," Timothy said. "Unfortunately, that narrows down who."

"I know," Indigo replied, and magically sharpened her fingernail to slice open her palm. She grunted in pain and held her dripping hand over the corpses mouth and protruding teeth they just noticed had exaggerated fangs. With her other hand she was ready to create a burst of light.

A snarl groaned from the casket. The arm twitched. A hand slightly flexed. The head tilted.

"Oh lord," Sister Front repeated and did a sign of the cross. The creature hissed at her and opened its eyes. "Oh lord."

It lunged.

Incomprehensible fast. Faster than Indigo could blast with light.

It grabbed Sister Frost and the two became tangled as they rolled clear across the room. Sister Frost grabbed it at the throat and pressed against the chest to keep it away from her as it snarled and snapped its teeth to bite her. It was struck from behind by a powerful flash of light that it ignored and continued its attack. Indigo struck it again, but it was unbothered.

Timothy gripped its clothing from behind and pulled but only ripped it straight off the torso. The force of his pull without the presumed resistance nearly took him off his own feet, but he stumbled to a recovery, pivoted, and kicked it full force in the ass. It roared in anger but resumed its attempt against the Sister.

"Get this thing..." Sister Frost grunted from effort, realized it was winning, and rolled her head away so it slammed its own face into the ground. "... off of me!"

"Hold on!" Indigo screamed and blasted it with it with a torrent of wind. The creature hardly budged. It stopped for a moment, looked at Indigo, and let Sister Frost go. "That's right. I'm the witch. You want magical blood. Come and get it."

"Use the light Indigo," Timothy said as he slowly tried to angle himself for attack.

"I did, it didn't work," Indigo said in exasperation.

Sister Front shrimped herself out from under it and crawled across the floor backward until her back hit one of the casks on the far wall. She noticed that the cask was warm to the touch. This room was cold, but these casks were warm?

"Timothy, the barrels are warm," Sister Frost said.

"And?" Timothy asked as he continued to angle himself.

"How are they warm?" Sister Frost asked. "This room has been sealed for who knows how long. Decades. Centuries? Even if the contents were warm when they were put in..."

"... they're enchanted to stay warm," Timothy said, having understood her observation. "Open one. Find out what's in it."

The creature leaped at Indigo who tried to use magic to blast it back, but the creature cut through it. It grabbed her at the shoulders and pinned her arms against her sides. It lurched its head back to drop its fangs down, but Timothy's wrapped his arm around its neck and squeezed. It sneered, dug its claws into Timothy's forearm, pulled it off its neck and bit into his forearm.

"Timothy!" Indigo screamed. Timothy pulled it away from Indigo and refused to make it let go of him. Not yet at least. "No Timothy!"

Indigo got to her feet as it threw itself and Timothy backwards into the casks. Timothy crumpled to the ground as the contents of the cask poured down onto his face. It was warm, thick, sticky, and dark red. Blood. The casks were full of blood and enchanted to stay warm and fresh. The creature paused, sniffed the air, and leaned over Timothy to guzzle down the blood dripping from the wooden cask. Timothy crawled away toward Sister Frost who took his arms and dragged him the final few feet.

Timothy spit blood, not his own, from what had poured onto his head. He wiped his brow and then hissed as he examined his arm.

"Motherfucker," he groaned as Sister Frost began to wrap her coif and veil around his arm to control the bleeding. Her black hair, chin length and curtain straight, framed her face with boxed bangs.

"Timothy, Timothy..." Indigo said and began to examine his wound. "You just got bit by a vampire. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck," Indigo muttered to herself. She closed her eyes and tried to feel for any abnormal aura or presence. "You feel normal... maybe not transferred by bites?"

"The vampires we ran into were all bit," Sister Frost said, and felt like it was the wrong thing to say immediately. "Sorry."

"Fuck... fuck..." Indigo repeated in tears.

The creature smashed into another cask and kept drinking.

Indigo knew she needed to pull herself together. Her husband's life depended on it. The father of her children depended on it. What would her mother do? She didn't know, but Ophelia certainly wouldn't sit there crying until something happened. Indigo took a deep breath, contemplated, and looked at Sister Frost.

"Michelle," Indigo said, and the Sister turned to her. "Take Timothy back into the compendium and ask it to take you to the Sanctum Magica. You will be apprehended by the Confederation the moment you arrive. Tell them I sent you, and that Timothy needs to be magically confined until I know how to treat him."

"I'm not going anywhere..." Timothy started to reply, before Indigo blew air into his eye, which bewitched him into a giggling, easily suggested state.

"Timothy is heavily resistant to magic, get him there before it wears off and he won't let you. Sanctum Magica."

"Sanctum Magica... Sanctum Magica... Sanctum Magica," Sister Frost chanted to remember it. She didn't question Indigo for a moment and helped shoulder him to the door. "Sanctum Magica."

Indigo's eyes glowed to open the compendium, and she watched as the door closed behind them. She slowly turned to the creature, both palms illuminated with white light, her eyes bright flares of purplish indigo.

It was more human now. More alive. Taller. More muscles had filled in the healthier looking skin like a glove one size too small for a surgeon's hand. Its hair previously as fragile as dry straw was now a waist length curtain of chocolate brown hair that could be braided into a sturdy rope. Barefoot in tarnished trousers, the remnants of his shirt hanging from one shoulder.

Indigo whistled loudly and tensed for a fight. The creature stopped licking the cask and faced her. It honestly appeared like it forgot anyone was ever in the room and was genuinely surprised by her presence. Indigo's fist clenched, the creature cleared its throat.

"What year is it?" it asked. Indigo tilted her head in confusion. "Apologies if I was unwelcoming upon my rousing. The less we drink, the more uncivilized we become."

"You were feral," Indigo said, her eyes remaining bright.

"If I may then, again, offer my most sincere apologies, and seek your forgiveness for my lack of manners," it said, placing its hand on its nearly bare chest. It felt its hand touch skin and looked down at itself. "I also apologize for my presentation. Heavens me, this is embarrassing. Especially in the presence of a maiden."

"I'm older than you," Indigo retorted as reflex. She instantly knew that wasn't true, but its appearance made the statement feel correct. He was at most sixteen when he stopped aging. "What is your name?"

"Where are my manners," it said. It placed its hand to its chest and bowed slightly to the front. "I am Sebastian Dela Vega."