Order of the Shattered Cross: Pt. 08

I'd like to thank Lastman416 for the read through and edits.

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'A great Void will swallow the world. The Duke commands the power of the Ravened Disciple, a great angel, with wings of ashen feathers. All of nothing, and one of everything will clash, knowing not, they serve the same master. The Duke will rise, a King of Earth, before Earth.'

The Duke's Plot. That is the name given to a prophecy long recorded in the Codex Magicae, the ancient book of Witches. The Priestess of the Keys, Ophelia, daughter of Johanna, did not believe in prophecy; Thus, she did not fear the words of prophets.

"Mother, you say you don't trust prophecy," Indigo began, following her mother loyally into the ritual site. "Yet, we're taking our guidance from prophecy?"

They had built the site deep in the swamp of the Everglades. The only witnesses to their endeavors would be the alligators. The coven sisters were busy with the preparations. A pentagram had been designed, using a paste made from bone chalk and blood. It was placed in the center of a dry and elevated portion of land with a moat dug around it in the shape of a triangle. The moat was filled with saltwater from the sea, and then further seasoned with strands of their own hair.

The Great Duke of Hell Flauros could not escape the barrier in which he was summoned, nor speak falsehoods in a triangle.

"It's not that I don't trust prophecy daughter. I don't believe in it," Ophelia said, a statement which only served to further confuse Indigo.

"I apologize if I'm misunderstanding," Indigo said.

"Do you know the story, Oedipus Tyrannus?" Ophelia asked.

"I read some of it when I went to a conventional school, though it was titled Oedipus Rex. Dreadfully boring, but perhaps it was my adolescent mind that merely couldn't comprehend it."

"Conventional schooling indeed. That story was written by the Greek Sophocles, a man who understood the nature of prophecy. That being, its self-fulfilling nature. Laius was the King of Thebes, who was told of a prophecy he would be murdered by his own newborn son. He bound the infant's feet and told his wife Jocasta to kill the child. Unable to complete the task, she gives the task to a servant, who pities the boy and gives him to a shepherd, who unbinds his feet and names him Oedipus. The shepherd then gives him to the King of Corinth, Polybus. Oedipus grows up, believing he is the trueborn son of Polybus, and his Queen, Merope.

"In his adulthood, Oedipus hears a rumor, he is not the son of Polypus. He confers with an Oracle, who tells him a prophecy he will slay his sire and mate with his mother. Still believing himself to be the son of Polybus, he departs Corinth as to not fulfill the prophecy. He takes his carriage onto a narrow road and comes across another carriage blocking his path. Oedipus and the older man in the other carriage have a dispute over who should be allowed to pass first, and Oedipus kills the man in the quarrel. The man he killed was the King of Thebes, his own father.

"Thebes was under the curse of a Sphinx, who devoured any who answered her riddle incorrectly. Oedipus answered correctly, so the Sphinx yielded by throwing herself from the cliff. Oedipus's reward for lifting the curse was kingship of the city, and the widowed Queen Jocasta, his own mother. Oedipus had slayed his sire and mated with his mother. Prophecy had been fulfilled."

"If the King of Thebes didn't trust the prophecy, it wouldn't have happened?" Indigo asked, and her mother asked her to elaborate on her thoughts. She loved how her mother seldom forced her way of thinking. Indigo was always encouraged to draw her own conclusions. "What if Oedipus grew up arrogant, and murdered his father to ascend the throne?"

"That is a logical way to read the illogical," Ophelia said with a smile. "What if Oedipus grew to be a kind man, who cherished his father, and never once thought of slaying him."

"That's an overly optimistic outcome," Indigo said.

"Yet both of our answers begin with the ever prevalent, intrusive thought, what if?" Ophelia said, and directed her daughter to the edge of the triangle. Their bare feet sunk into the mud as they walked. The Sisters of the Keys were well at home in their swamp. The cold moist earth between their toes felt like warm wool socks.

"The best outcome is if Laius had never heard the prophecy to begin with. Prophecy breeds distrust, paranoia, and suspicion. Distrust, paranoia, and suspicion is why mankind has had a knife to its own throat since the moment it could craft a blade. When you assume everyone is your enemy, that's when everyone truly becomes your enemy. I understand mankind doesn't need much excuse to kill each other, but prophecy is all too often the justification, not because it was found, but because it was sought after."

"I'm afraid I still don't understand," Indigo said.

"What have I said?" Ophelia asked. Indigo closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled it slowly.

"Don't speak of fear, unless you're afraid," Indigo said, and opened her eyes. "And there is nothing wrong with fear. Allow yourself to feel it, but never call it to you."

"Excellent," Ophelia said, and kissed her daughter's forehead. "To answer your confusion, we don't care about prophecy. Our concern is those who do care about prophecy. We both saw that creature, Indigo. A soulless golem of eternal death, consuming the energy of the creator. The Void. It must be destroyed. It has no soul, so it cannot be exorcised. Even my strongest magic was a mere nuisance to it. We need to summon Flauros and demand answers."

"Do you believe he's the Raven Disciple, or the Black Winged Angel?" Indigo asked.

"I don't. Those who believe in this prophecy, do," Ophelia said. "Or at the very least, they believe he wields its power."

"Priestess," a coven sister said, her feet sloshing in the shallow water as she approached. Like all her sisters, she wore a black dress with the hem torn up to their midthighs. "We're ready."

"Thank you for your efforts," Ophelia said. The sister replied with a small nod.

Ophelia took her place at the tip of the triangle that faced north. Eleven sisters took their places around the triangle, all looking at their Priestess for guidance.

"Sisters," Ophelia said, taking her time to make direct eye contact with each one. "I will not lie about what we are about to do. We are about to intentionally summon a disciple of the Morningstar. We are about to violate one of the longest held laws of the Confederation of Covens. If discovered, we will be tried, we will convicted, and we will be sentenced to death, or worse, marked as traitress. This is not an order I can give you as a Priestess. Any sister who wishes to leave, may do so without judgement."

Ophelia scanned the eyes of her sisters, looking for any ounce of doubt or fear in their gaze. Each sister nodded in turn as her eyes came their own. One sister evaded her eyes, like a flinch, as if Ophelia had raised the back of her hand to her.

"Garnet?" Ophelia asked. "Speak your fears."

"Forgive my hesitation, I'm ready," Garnet said, and Ophelia held her gaze. Ophelia could read the fear on another's face easier than reading a single letter on a page. "I fear for my child. I fear I won't see him again."

"You recently became a mother," Ophelia said, and Garnet nodded with her face drowned in tears. Garnet had given birth to a son three months ago. Her pregnancy was an accident, but witches valued all life, planned or not. To Garnet's surprise, the man she conceived with rose to the task when told.

"It has been my life's greatest privilege to watch my daughter become a woman. I command you, to watch your son become a man," Ophelia said, and Garnet's cries became harsher as they echoed. "Without shame, go. Go be with your son."

"I'm sorry sisters," Garnet said, but all her sisters reassured her as she stepped away from the triangle and disappeared into the darkness of the swamp.

"Any other?" Ophelia asked, and they remained silent. "Very well. Let us begin."

"Mother Lilith, hear our voices. With blood sacrifice, we knock on the door to hell," Ophelia chanted, and her sisters echoed. The pentagram in the center glowed red, and a powerful thud, like the bottom of a closed first pounding on a hollow door. "Answer Morningstar. We call on your disciple." The earth quaked from the second knock. "Answer the door. The body of a leopard. The one who knows all things. He who commands thirty-six legions. The Great Duke of Hell, Flauros."

The pounding stopped but echoed for seconds as it slowly faded away. The moment it was absolutely silent, The earth beneath the pentagram collapsed. The quiet was replaced with the screams and moans of tormented souls. A great fire burst out from the chasm, and several of the coven covered their faces from the intense heat, but all held their ground. Charred hands reached up, one managing to touch the earth for the first time in millennia. It crawled out of hell and began to cry as it rejoiced.

In an instant, the earth snapped shut. The pressure pushed seven of the coven flying backwards into the water. Indigo lost her balance but was saved when her mother caught her wrist. One by one, the seven returned to their feet. Standing in the pentagram was a pitiful soul who managed to claw their way out of their damnation.

"Is this Flauros?" a sister asked, her tone unable to mask her surprise.

"No," Ophelia said and crossed the point of the triangle. She knelt next to the poor soul. "Who are you?"

The soul opened its mouth to speak, but only spoke in gargles and growls. Its body looked like it was made of burning coals that glowed orange beneath cracks in its skin. When it breathed, the air whistled with wheezing and pain.

"It's too tormented to answer," Indigo said, and her mother agreed. "But where is the demon?"

"I was afraid of this," Ophelia said, "and I do mean afraid. The demon couldn't answer the door, because he isn't in hell."

"He's already on earth," Indigo said.

"You disappoint me Ophelia," a voice said from the darkness. The coven turned, and watched as a lone figure approached the ritual. They saw her sapphire eyes well before the rest of her. She stepped into the view, revealing her blue lips and bangs, which appeared almost silver in the moonlight.

"High Priestess," Ophelia said.

"That isn't supposed to be here," Nora said, pointing at the burned soul. "What is this I hear of you summoning a demon?"

"I warned you of the Void," Ophelia said.

"And then you mentioned, bigfoot, if I recall."

"Open your eyes Nora," Ophelia said. "It's real. I don't even believe in prophecy, but I believe in what I see."

"So, you summon a demon?"

"He has the answers we need. He can tell us who its master is. Who created it. And how to destroy it. You know he cannot speak lies in a triangle."

"I'm well aware of the words contained in the Lesser Key. I'm also well aware of the laws of the confederation," Nora said.

"The blame is on me, and me alone. If punishment must occur, let me assume the responsibility," Ophelia said, and Nora slowly grinned.

"Each sister is here upon her own will. They stand equally guilty," Nora said.

The coven watched, turning in small circles as more witches of the confederation stepped into the moonlight. They were surrounded, outnumbered at least four to one. There were likely more witches hiding in the shadows.

"We stand accused. We demand our trial," Ophelia said, and Nora laughed softly.

"You were found guilty the moment you knocked on hells door," Nora said. "Kill them."

The Sisters of the Keys did not go quietly. Bursts of magic flashed in multi-colored light. Spells crackled like bullets and bombs. Hexes bound limbs, blinded eyes, and broke bone. The earth around them resembled a mundane battlefield with craters steaming from explosions.

The last two witches immediately defended their Priestess as she prepared to open a doorway in the water. It wasn't for her salvation, but for her coven. Indigo joined them and formed a barrier to shield her mother from a blast, but it shattered on contact and threw her face first into knee high water. Indigo struggled to her feet, adding her power to the barrier.

"Just a little longer," Ophelia said as she finished the doorway. "Go."

"You first priestess," a sister said.

"Mother," Indigo cried, soaking wet and being shouldered by her sister. "You must leave. Only you have strength enough to destroy the Void."

"The door will slam shut when I go through it," Ophelia said. The barrier broke, and the sister crashed to the ground, writhing in agony. Ophelia deflected the next spell into the chest of their enemy. "Go."

"Not without you!" Indigo shouted. The last sister fell, and Ophelia alone held the shield against the assault of five witches.

"I've prepared you for this," Ophelia said, and slowly smiled at her daughter, one last time. "Be not afraid." Ophelia lifted her daughter with her magic, and forced her screaming into the doorway. The barrier shattered, and the door slammed shut.

Indigo was spat out of the water and crashed onto the shore of a faraway beach. She scrambled to her feet and flung herself back into the sea, praying the door was still open.

"Send me back!" Indigo screamed as she thrashed against the water. "Send me back!" A wave broke against her, and she flung back to the beach. She punched the soft sand and screamed. She crawled up the beach before the next wave hit and cried until sunrise.

Two sisters had survived the onslaught. Ophelia and one other were magically bound and dropped to their knees before the high priestess Nora. Ophelia looked up at Nora who grinned as she crouched to her level.

"You may yet live," Nora offered. "Tell me your secrets."

"I keep no secrets from The Confederation," Ophelia replied.

"We'll see about that," Nora said. She walked to the other sister. Her eyes glowed blue as she gripped the witch by the sides of her head. The witched screamed as Nora attempted to rip the memory out of her.

"She knows nothing!" Ophelia screamed. "Any secrets you believe we have, are within me. My mind. Let her go!"

Nora continued. She tore through the witch's mind. From her birth to the moment Nora placed her hands on the sides of her face. The witch had a rough childhood. Her mother wasn't a witch and didn't know how to handle, or explain, the strange happenings of her daughter. Her father was abusive. She was homeless for a time, and surely would have been sexually violated if not for her powers. Then Ophelia found her.

Ophelia taught her what her powers were, and how to control them. The orphan was brought into the coven, and for the first time had a family of her own. A family that understood and loved her. A family she would die for. Upon completing her initiation, she was shown the Sisters of the Keys greatest secret.

Nora saw a door. She pushed into the memory, attempting to open it. The door wouldn't budge. Nora attacked it, but the door fought her. A pentagram formed on the door, and Nora paused her assault to examine it. It was an enchantment. This memory was enchanted. The door could not be broken without consequence. Nora tried again, and her connection to the witch was severed, as the witch dropped dead.

"Nothing to hide?" Nora asked Ophelia as she stepped over the corpse. "I'll assume every sister has this enchantment. I shouldn't even bother with Garnet, should I?" Nora asked, and leaned down into her face. "One of your sisters betrayed you."

"You threatened her child. I will never blame her."

"Children are fantastic little liabilities," Nora said.

"You will die alone. My child will see to that," Ophelia said.

Nora answered by trying to tear the memory from her mind. Ophelia's life flashed before her eyes.

Ophelia was born shortly before the war. Her father survived and returned a broken man. He relived the war every time a door slammed, or a car backfired, and beat his wife and children out of a fear induced delusion they were the enemy. Sometimes he slept in the bathtub. It reminded him of a foxhole, and it helped him sleep better. When he would, Ophelia slept on the rug next to the tub, just to be closer to her father.

He didn't like hurting his family, and never did so when in full control of his faculties. He didn't trust his instincts anymore. He was still wired for war. When Ophelia was ten, if he felt the war returning, he'd vanish for days at a time into the woods near their home to shelter them from himself.

Ophelia followed him into the woods when she was thirteen. Her father would come to a small pond and sit on a large stone overlooking it. He saw her, and she expected him to be angry at her intrusion, but he tapped the stone, offering a place next to him. He told her of the war. The horrors he had witnessed. The things he had done. The cruelty of man he had experienced.

Her father had fought with the 71 ^st Infantry Division as a combat medic. The lives he saved far outweighed the men he couldn't save. For that, he was proud, and his comrades would be eternally grateful. That all changed in May, 1945, when his division liberated Gunskirchen in Austria, a camp created with the sole purpose of exterminating the Jews. The men were woefully unprepared for what they found. He lost so many patients because the malnutrition caused them to eat themselves to death. Some were beyond saving, but it never stopped him from trying. Soon, those he lost outnumbered those he saved.

He told his daughter when he closed his eyes, all he saw were the mounds of corpses. The stench of death, worse than any battlefield. Wounds of the soul, cutting deeper and crippling more than any bullet or bomb could inflict. They were dead long before they were found, clinging to life as impulse rather than desire.

Ophelia watched her father cry, something he could never do. Something men of his time were not permitted to do. Ophelia held him, and he cried. They left the woods, and her father never struck his family again. When the war raged in his mind, his daughter knew, and held his hand, bringing him back home.

Ophelia restrained her own powers, as she lacked a mentor, or knowledge of what she was. She became a nurse and spent her twenties saving many lives. It was in Florida where a coven sister noticed her. The priestess of the Sisters of the Keys invited her, trained her, and offered her a position in their coven, which she accepted. Soon after, she grew pregnant by a man she only knew once.

Wedlock or not, her father loved his granddaughter. The neighbors judged her, but he didn't care about their opinion. Her father died with few regrets when Indigo was six.

Indigo became her life. Her daughter showed exemplary power at a young age. Her powers manifested noticeably much earlier than most witches. Indigo's life was filled with love and lessons. Ophelia would learn magic just to teach it to her daughter, even though she was still an initiate when Indigo was born. When Indigo was sixteen, her mother became the priestess of the Coven.