Order of the Shattered Cross: Pt. 10

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

--

Gwendoline exited her doorway, using magic to slam it hard behind her. Her coven sisters jumped from their seat at her sudden arrival. They all had sat in waiting for days in their ritual chamber. It was lit by candles arrayed on the outermost edges. They were expecting her back but weren't prepared for the mood she brought with her.

"Priestess how was the election..." a sister asked. Gwendoline suspended her in the air and threw her across the room in anger.

"Those French whores!" Gwendoline shouted as she stormed in a circle around the edge of the chamber. Any object within her grasp was hurled across the room. Her sisters ducked, blocked, or were struck by a barrage of bottles, books, chairs, and candlesticks.

French witches had dominated the position of High Priestess of the European Covens for two centuries. Every ten years the priestesses of Europe would meet and decide their next leader. The one witch who would be responsible for all major decisions that effected the witches of Europe. Admittance of a new Coven into the Confederation. When to go to war. When to resign from war. When to be involved with mundane conflicts. How to interact with the other six High Priestess across the globe.

This election process could take hours, days, or even weeks. The process truly started months or years before the election proper. One nominee could begin campaigning, bringing smaller covens to her cause to bolster her appeal. Not every coven was a voting member, but the voice of each coven could be heard. Of the twenty-seven voting covens, twelve of them were French. The French always arrived with a single voice, and a single nominee. A simple majority carried the vote, and the French already owned nearly half. Only two covens needed to be swayed.

The English had three voting covens, amongst them the Sisters of the Apocalypse, the coven which Gwendoline was the priestess of. The Prussians, Spanish, and Russians each had two. The Irish, Scottish, Papal, Portugues, each had one. The Near East Coven representing witches from Moldovia, Polish-Lithuania Commonwealth, and Transylvania also had one vote. The final vote was from the Coven of Ice, representing Sweden and Denmark.

Even though witches in general tried to be removed from mundane affairs, there was no clean separation. English witches hated the French. Irish and Scots hated the English, and each other. Why? Because the English hated the French on principle, even if they were witches. Even if no French witch had ever slighted them.

Gwendoline made her case. She was well versed and had mastered no fewer than five disciplines of magic: alchemy, barriers, doorways, elemental, and enchantments. She was more than adept in curses, hexes, illusions, memory blocking, memory diving, reconstruction, summoning, and potions. All of this she had accomplished by the age of five and twenty. She even did something exceedingly rare; she got the Prussians and the Russians to speak for her, with neither bringing forward a nominee of their own.

The French had their nominee. Françoise de Lansac. An esteemed courtier of many noble houses. To the French witches, they saw her a possible ear in the court of future kings. They'd know of wars before they started. They'd now when to evacuate their witches, or when to get involved. She had poise, grace, articulation, which would aid in international relationships. She was in her late thirties and had only mastered one discipline of magic: prophecy, a discipline some witches didn't even consider to be legitimate.

Gwendoline was a far better witch. Françoise was a better diplomat.

The Coven of Ice and the Near East submitted their own nominees, but their names would be lost to history.

If Gwendoline could only stop an immediate majority, it would automatically require a runoff after one day of further deliberation.

The French of course had their twelve, as always. The English and Prussian votes went to Gwendoline. The Coven of Ice and the Near East Coven voted for themselves. The Irish voted for the Near East, and the Scots the Ice. The Papal voted for Gwendoline, as did the Russians. The Portugues voted for the Near East. That just left the Spanish. They voted for the French after an hour of internal debate.

Gwendoline, though undeniably a powerful sorceress, could not accept that her ambition was a delusion of grandeur. She was strong, but strength alone did not make her a suitable leader. Her strength carried with it an arrogance rivaling her abilities. Why should she be denied her rightful place?

"Leave, now!" Gwendoline ordered her coven. Nervously, they all stood up, and looked upon each other. "Do not make me repeat myself."

"Priestess, we've discussed..." one witch began, timidly tiptoeing toward her. "...we...we have voted."

"Voted?" Gwendoline asked. "On what my dears?"

"On your removal," another said, less shaken, but still frightened of her. "You are in violation of the Codex. You cannot treat us like this."

"Like what?" Gwendoline inquired. "The Codex outlines, very clearly, the authority of a Priestess."

"It also outlines the standard of care. We are duty bound, but your authority also requires a responsibility for our wellbeing. You mock us. Strike us. Experiment on us. We all came to learn from you, but you don't teach us. You refuse to."

"Then leave," Gwendoline said harshly. "More sisters will come."

"We cannot allow that," the witch said. All her sisters' eyes began to glow, as they readied to strike down their priestess.

"Twenty against one?" Gwendoline asked and giggled a little. "You didn't bring enough witches."

Minutes later Gwendoline stepped over the bodies of her slain wards and slowly approached the last one. The gravely wounded witch tried to crawl backwards away from Gwendoline but was lifted from the ground and held upside down.

"Beg," Gwendoline ordered.

"I'm done cowering to you," the sister replied.

"Commendable," Gwendoline admitted. She threw her to the ground which opened beneath her, and sealed shut. She managed only half a scream before she was crushed to death, her blood shooting up like a popped blemish. "Fucking traitors."

Gwendoline heard clapping, and swiftly turned around. She tilted her head curiously at the man standing before her. He dressed like an English aristocrat in a lavender slashed doublet and a broadbrimmed hat. He had a thin mustache and a pointed beard on the tip of his chin. Gwendoline had to admit the man was extraordinarily handsome. Even witches who had forsaken men had these urges. Her attraction was rooted in something different. There was something different about this man. There had to be if he could suddenly appear in the chamber of a coven.

"Who are you?" Gwendoline asked, lowering her offensive posture into something more relaxed. She didn't fear him. If he meant her harm, he would have struck when her back was turned.

"Just an admirer," the man replied. That voice. Deep, cold, and ensnaring. It sent a shiver down even her frozen spine. "Gwendoline, daughter of Genevieve."

"How did you enter this chamber?" she asked. She said or felt nothing regarding how this man knew her name or her mother's.

"I have my ways," the man answered without answering.

"What magic can a man have?" Gwendoline asked. The room grew dark, but the candles were not blown out. The light flowed toward him and stretched thinly like starlight being pulled into a blackhole. It spiraled around him like water around a drain.

"Your kind has long feared your progenitor," the man said, walking along the outer edge of the chamber. The light followed him like a loyal slave.

"We do not fear Mother Lilith," Gwendoline said.

"She was merely the first to use your power. It was given to her by another," the man said. "The serpent in the garden."

"It has long been tradition we do not worship the Morningstar."

"Nor does he demand worship," he replied.

"You're a disciple," Gwendoline said. "What name is written in the Lesser Key for you?"

"Flauros," the man said. "My master has lost his way. He was once a revolutionary. Now he fulfills a purpose for the Creator. He has returned to being his servant. I wish as he once did, to claim a throne for myself."

"You know neither will allow you to rule this realm. Even the covens will oppose you," she said, walking along the edge of the chamber in the opposite direction. Two predators meeting in the wild, dancing to determine ally or competition.

"I have a realm to claim. Forever known, but long forgotten."

"Where is this realm?" Gwendoline asked.

"May I show you?" Flauros asked.

They both stopped and turned to the center. Flauros stepped first and stopped in the middle. He extended out his hand for her to take. Gwendoline slowly made her way to him and looked at his hand. She looked up into his black eyes and touched his hand.

Flauros pulled her through darkness. It felt like pushing herself through a tight corridor. It was like being born again. When they arrived out the other side, she stumbled out, falling over and landing belly first in a grassy field.

"Impossible," Gwendoline said as she rose up. An endless field of perfect grass. The air smelt sweet, and the wind was warm. Everything was pristine. Her power felt stronger than ever. "Eden. It still exists?"

"It does, and it will be mine," Flauros said.

"What's stopping you now? Take it," Gwendoline said in awe.

"Only one soul is holding this entire realm open. One original Edenian. Without that soul, it will collapse into nothingness. It will fall into the abyss. However, if Earth were to fall into the abyss first, it doesn't matter which soul remains. Neither can fully flourish while the other exists. The removal of one guarantees the survival of the other."

"How would you destroy Earth?" she asked.

"Follow me," Flauros said, and began through the field of grass. Gwendoline followed him like a lost puppy.

It felt like they walked for hours. It may have been days for all she knew. Time didn't feel the same here. She didn't feel the same here. Gwendoline was already supremely powerful, but something about Eden made her feel greater than even that.

"Just there," Flauros said as he stopped at the top of a hill. Down the hill was a large body of water. The sun glistening off the water was so bright it nearly hurt her eyes, making her raise her hand in front of her face as a shield. "Eden has one monster to contend with."

"Leave," a voice from behind them said.

"I do not think I will," Flauros said. He turned around and was face to face with Eve. She stood nude, her red hair to her ankles, her breasts not hidden behind her hair.

"Who is she?" Gwendoline asked.

"You cannot trust a word this demon says," Eve said.

"You cannot trust the word of a coward, too scared to truly die," Flauros retorted. "This is Eve."

"Gwendoline, I beg you. Do not trust him. He means to end Earth," Eve said.

"Why should it not fall? You can see into that realm, can you not? Tell me why it should be spared," Flauros said.

"I see every awful thing in that world. I also see every beautiful thing there too. The good far outweighs the bad," Eve pleaded to her. "Leave while you can."

"Gwendoline," Flauros said, and she turned to him. "Go to the lake. That monster is our weapon."

"Stay away from the lake," Eve begged.

Gwendoline began to walk down the hill, Eve continuously appearing in front of her as she walked. She kept pleading and begging for her to stop.

"Do not wake her up," Eve said.

Gwendoline stood at the water's edge. It was crystal clear and sparkling in the afternoon sun. It was pristine and perfect, save for one imperfection. She stepped into the water, that was to her hip at its deepest. She sloshed her way through until the imperfection was at her feet. It resembled the corpselike body of a woman, laying faceup at the bottom.

"Do not wake her up!" Eve screamed.

Gwendoline looked over at Eve, and then back down. The corpse's eyes opened, and it lunged out of the water and grabbed Gwendoline at her shoulders. It flew them out of the water and slammed Gwendoline against the side of the hill with such force they created a small crater. It was snapping and snarling at her like a rapid dog. It groaned like it was drowning. Its hair floated like it was still underwater. It was insanely strong, stronger than anything she had ever felt. It wasn't strong enough for her though.

Gwendoline pushed it away and trapped it in a barrier it continuously attempted to escape.

"That is how we destroy the world," Flauros said. "The Void."

"The Void is real?" Gwendoline asked, and then looked at it. "It's her body?"

"It is in limbo. Her soul refused to leave Eden, so her body refuses to die. It cannot live without its soul, so it will find one to eat. But it will never find peace until her soul passes on."

"What do you propose?" Gwendoline asked.

"I propose we make our own. We know the ingredients, we only need to discern the recipe," Flauros said.

"Once you destroy Earth, where do I fit into your vision?" Gwendoline asked.

"By my side, of course," he replied. "The king and queen of Eden. You can bring your followers, and we will all live in eternal paradise. A world without pain."

Gwendoline didn't need much convincing. The idea of destroying the world of pain for the world of paradise took only a moment to consider. She would help this demon in his ambitions.

"This will take years. Centuries even. You do not have a lifespan for that," Flauros said.

"How will I be at your side?" Gwendoline asked.

"One Edenian exists on Earth," Flauros said.

"No!" Eve screamed and tried push them, but only phased through and fell to the ground. "Leave her alone! Don't you dare touch her!"

"She has the power you need. I can teach you how to take her power," Flauros said, and expelled darkness around him. "I can teach you how to control shadow."

"I accept," Gwendoline said, and took his hand. He returned them to her chamber. Gwendoline could feel the power of Eden in her blood more clearly now. It was overwhelming how powerful she felt. That wasn't the only feeling that was too much to bear.

Gwendoline kissed Flauros, who slowly lowered her down to the floor. He tore off her robe with a single pull.

"Witches lose their virginity on top," she explained, but Flauros grabbed her wrist and shoved it to the ground. Against her traditions, he took her on her back. She hardly even noticed the bodies of her sisters littering the chamber as he ravaged her.

--

"Hello darkness, my old friend," Timothy said as he opened his eyes. It was so pitch he couldn't even tell if his eyes were truly open. Three times. Three times in just a few days he had found his way back to the abyss.

This time he truly had no way out. The part of the universe untouched by God. Formless and lifeless. The most complete nothingness imaginable. Sanity crushing nothingness.

Already well versed in the sensations of this realm, he dedicated his movement to a single direction. It was like searching the bottom of the ocean for a single pebble. Miss by an inch, you miss by a mile.

"Eterna!" he shouted as he drifted through the pitch. "Eterna!"

It felt like he had said her name a thousand times. Each time he'd wait several seconds for a reply of any kind. His voice didn't echo. He could hardly even hear it himself. The noise was absorbed the moment it left his lips. She could have been next to him, and she'd never hear it. Still, he tried. "Eterna!"

Lifetimes passed.

Then something new happened. Something he never imagined possible; he hit a wall.

Timothy's body collided into something, and he frantically touched it, trying to discern its dimensions and properties. Smooth and cold. He followed along the wall with his hand. Up, down, left, right, diagonally in every direction. He must have followed it for another lifetime. As he did, he called her name. "Eterna!"

"You're nearing a thousand years," a voice said.

"Eterna?"

The voice was disembodied, warped, and hard to understand. It didn't sound feminine or masculine.

"Eterna?" he asked again.

"No, Timothy," the voice replied. It was getting clearer. He focused his mind to hear it better. "Please, sit." Masculine, without a doubt.

"Sit?" Timothy asked. The darkness felt strange. It suddenly felt normal. There was something beneath his feet. Some surface that allowed him to orient his body for the first time in ages. Timothy took a chance, and sat down, feeling his bottom and back land on a solid surface. He was so unused to this, he essentially fell onto it, the suddenness of the drop truly startling him.

"Who's there?" Timothy asked.

"It has been a long time, Timothy. Longer for me, but plenty long for you," the voice said. "You feel the sensations of the world again, do you not?"

"Who are you?" Timothy asked.

"The king of this realm," the voice replied. A pinprick of light broke through, and it was nearly blinding. "Give it a moment. It will come into focus."

Timothy eyes gradually adjusted to the light. It seemed like he was in a room. As more light saturated the space, it grew clearer until he could see again. Sitting before him was a man he hardly recognized. He had only seen him once in this form, and his memory wasn't what it once was. Handsome, streaks of gray in his dark hair in a suit. The dark eyes.

"Do I know you?" Timothy asked.

"You did," the man said, and Timothy closed his eyes to clear his clouded mind.

"Flauros?" Timothy asked, and he nodded in reply. "I thought you were exorcised?"

"I wish I was," Flauros said with a small grin. "My daughter merely said I was dealt with, but she was not the one who dealt with me."

"You really pissed off someone important," Timothy said.

"My master has a tendency of giving people exactly what they want," Flauros said. "Sometimes that is the worse thing we can get."

"Is Eterna here?" Timothy asked, and Flauros nodded. "Where?"

"Nowhere and everywhere," Flauros replied, and Timothy rolled his eyes. "Not the answer you wanted?"

"How long have I been here?" Timothy asked.

"On Earth, not long. In this realm, over nine-hundred years," Flauros replied. "It was said no one could reside here for the whole term with their mind intact."

"What happens after a thousand years? Can I leave?" Timothy asked.

"Only the being who placed you into the abyss can pull you out. You put yourself here. Leaving may be difficult, but you've done it before. After a thousand years, you'll regain your physical sensations. It'll seem like a reprieve at first, but that will also be maddening. However, you are remarkably resilient for a mortal. It makes the fact you defeated me all the easier to swallow."

"We won?" Timothy asked. He didn't know what happened after Eden collapsed. He hardly remembered why it did. He just remembered darkness.

"Earth is safe, Eden is no more," Flauros confirmed. "Eterna's sacrifice, and your own, were not in vain."