3212 A.G. (After Gods), Abbey of the Order of Blood Witches, Acumensiis Comet.
The Acumensiis Comet was less. Less of place since the death of Sister Abigail. Less of a home to the young women abandoned by civilization. Ruma Zzein, Grand Mistress of the Order of Blood Witches, remained self-confined to her personal chambers high atop the tallest spire of the abbey. Her mourning for Abigail was not yet finished. It was a recognized flaw but one that had no remedy. Every life was precious, a Blood Witch’s more than most. Abigail’s death left an irreplaceable void in the fabric of the universe.
Ruma Zzein did not weep. Her capacity for tears had dried up long ago. Horrors and nightmares had hounded her for centuries, forcing her to abandon the last vestiges of human emotion chaining her to mortality. She was immortal, or the closest living thing to it. Ruma was older than half of the suns. Empires came and passed into faded memory, yet she endured.
For the briefest time, she found her thoughts drifting back to a day long ago, a day that had changed her life and given her newfound purpose. Ruma had fled her birth planet, confident there was a better way. She had been wrong. Humanity didn’t accept her specific gifts. She had been branded a witch, excommunicated from the Conclave. The turning point had come when she had stopped a group of men from raping and beating a young woman to death while local authorities stood by and watched.
Ruma had screamed in a voice that shattered eardrums, blowing brain matter through nose and mouth. The woman had clung to her in singular hope of survival. Others had not seen it so clearly. Ruma had fled with the girl. They’d hidden in caves, gathering others and waiting for passage off world. Nowhere they went was safe. Outcasts, they had been forced to take refuge on the Acumensiis Comet, condemned by the fledgling Conclave. Ruma had made a pact with the first Cardinal Seniorus. Any woman showing unique abilities was to be handed over to Ruma and her order to be trained in how to properly utilize her gifts for the betterment of humanity.
So long ago. Ruma Zzein looked up from the row of shattered globes and saw space for the first time in a year. The stars amazed her with their innocent brightness, unparalleled vitality. She’d spent most of her time in this inner sanctum, the tallest spire of the abbey. Protective shields fluctuated over the open windows that circled the chamber. Ruma Zzein was able to watch the entire splendor of space as the comet marched by on its course. The room was large and carved from dark granite, giving a gloomy feel. Golden runes marred the black floor, flaring to life whenever she touched one. Candles burned constantly from the four corners of her table. There was no chair or any other furniture. The Grand Mistress folded her legs beneath her and floated at the edge of the table. Her long diaphanous robes lightly kissed the floor, billowing slightly in the unnatural breeze.
The time for grand introspection was ended. Action was now required. Ruma had thought long and hard on the prospect of Forever Night. Mankind was still young, impossibly fragile to withstand the eventuality of what was to come. Their worship of gods hampered their ability to reason. They were blind to the demise fast approaching. They needed to help of the Blood Witches if they were to have even a slim chance of survival.
Ruma spun slowly, legs still folded, hands in her lap. Her mind was settled. The rapid pace of her nerves calmed. It was time to take her beloved order, the creation of her heart, and give it to the Conclave in the desperate hope of salvaging humanity. She made it almost to the door when a deep boom exploded in her soul. Lights and colors spread through the sanctum, throwing her back in a violent wave of raw power.
Ruma shielded her eyes from the searing light. Slivers of pain shot through her aged eyes, burning into her mind. She felt terror, true terror, for the first time in nearly four thousand years.
“Show yourself to me,” she gasped.
Mocking laughter circled her sanctum. “Is that any way to talk to an old friend?”
Ruma’s heart clenched. “I have no old friends. Show me your face.”
“Has it been so long you no longer recognize the voice of the one who cast you out of your precious temple? Who left you to the vagaries of time? The one who made you what you are.”
“Amongeratix,” she hissed through clenched teeth.
An image appeared, blurred at first and slow to focus.
“What sorcery is this?” Ruma asked, knowing she wasn’t about to be answered.
The image solidified, shimmering and ethereal. Amongeratix sneered down on her as if enacting old hatreds in his mind’s eye. “Do not speak of those things beyond your grasp. You were ever a hack, Ruma. I don’t know what my father saw in you.”
“Did you come to taunt me, Amongeratix, or is there a purpose for this unwanted pleasantry? My time is precious.”
“Your time is ending. It is one of the universe’s cruel jokes that you continue to exist. I am come to deliver you to the abyss,” he condemned.
Ruma refused to rise. “Your words are empty, monster. Go back to your prison and rot.”
He bristled suddenly. Anger had become his closest ally. “Mind your tongue, witch. I could have killed you long ago. Consider it a mistake I let you live. Your light is waning. Do not interfere in what comes next. Disappear, and I might even forget you before the end.”
“The Order of Blood Witches will not be cowed by a puppet! You think you are above the laws of life? Look closely into your own black heart, Amongeratix, and you shall find only decay and emptiness. Your time has passed. Your kind was found wanting and faded into oblivion.”
“We were the rulers of the universe!” he roared. “All bowed beneath us and trembled in the anticipation of our voices. You are an aberration, Ruma Zzein. I will come to kill you if you get involved with the humans.”
Ruma offered a tight-lipped smile. “I am human. I will not allow them to fall into the dread ruin that consumed your race at Occanum. You and all like you are anathema. The abyss is coming, but not for me.”
Warding spells flared from key spots around the sanctum. Amongeratix’s image started to fade.
“Do not cross me again or your daughter’s life is forfeit,” he said, the voice a mere whisper before his image disappeared entirely.
Ruma finally slumped down. Any pain she felt for the loss of Sister Abigail was drowned out by the sudden emergence of Amongeratix. He’d been incarcerated under the watchfulness of the Inquisition for so long she’d nearly made the mistake of rendering his threat minimal. His disappearance after the battle of Crimeat was disturbing, though not unusual. For him to invade her private quarters with such ease spoke terrible things. Ruma was no longer sure humanity stood a chance at all. The Three were at last returned to finish their war.
Ruma had no time to waste. She shook off the last dizzying effects of the power surge and raced to gather her sisters.
The Atrium was built as a welcoming hall where sisters new and old could come to share experiences and wisdom with one another. Seldom was it used during time of war or consequence. The Order of Blood Witches had drifted across the elliptical of the universe for countless years in the pursuit of knowledge and the quiet defense of a race that didn’t want them. No thanks or sentiments of gratitude ever made it within the abbey walls unless expressed by a sister.
Ageless cedar beams arced the ceiling, the aroma still fresh. Thick beams of dark red oak ran the twenty meters to the buttresses. Garlands of flowers wrapped around the massive trunks in celebration of the spirit. Ten foot tall stained glass windows with scenes depicting some of the Order’s most prolific achievements were spaced every five feet. Tables made to seat twenty filled the wooden floor. Light orbs hovered at intervals throughout the Atrium.
The Grand Mistress and her most trusted inner circle of advisors took seats at the head table. Only five chairs lined the far side facing the main hall. An alcove held one hundred thousand candles that never extinguished. Novices were required to replace any candle near the end of its life daily. Normally, the Atrium was reserved for merriment and fellowship. Normally, but not now.
An iron-capped stave rang against the wooden floor three quick times, bringing the assembly to silence. All heads turned and bowed as Grand Mistress Zzein drifted in. Her diaphanous robes reflected colors in rainbow patterns befitting one of such station. Silence dominated the hall, an unmatched reverence for the only woman to ever hold the position.
Ruma spared little time for reflection. She seldom did. History was not going to be kind to those like her. Already she had been forgotten, a relic from an age many believed to have never existed. Ruma Zzein was a myth. Mankind had evolved beyond her, leaving the Order ensconced on the shelves of antiquity.
Her soft eyes carried over the assembly. The sisters were her pride, the object of the depths of her heart. Nothing in the vast depth of the universe meant more than the precious few hundred gathered, waiting eagerly for what she had to announce. Only Ruma found she lacked the desire to say what needed saying. Amongeratix’s intrusion into her private sanctum had been unexpected and changed all her summations of the future. Pursing her lips, she began.
“Sisters, we have come to a crossroads many of us have long feared,” she told them, her deep voice booming from the walls. “Humanity has lost its course. They have squandered the gifts left them and have begun the path to Forever Night.”
Gasps circled the hall, as loud as her own had been.
“I believe the time has come for us to return to the universe. To give back what has long been absent. Our time of seclusion must come to an end if any of us have a hope of surviving. The choice is not an easy one to make, nor should it be decided lightly. This sisterhood has thrived because we are isolated, away from the trials humanity imposes on itself. They have become as corrupt as the very beings they once replaced.”
She scanned the audience. “I invite any who so choose to voice their opinion, for this is not solely my decision. We are all humanity’s forgotten children.”
“Grand Mistress, what has changed? Surely Sister Abigail’s death has played some part in this design, but is it enough to jeopardize us all?”
Ruma frowned at Abigail’s mention. The two had been as close as perhaps a mother and daughter. Sending her to Crimeat to support Inquisitor Breed had been no easy task. Nonetheless, Breed was an important piece in coming years. Working with him proved less a gamble than a calculated risk. Abigail’s loss was regrettable and ultimately disheartening. Reverberations continued to swirl through the Order.
“Sister Abigail performed her duties as well as any of us can hope to,” Ruma answered the young Sister, one of the newer arrivals. “Much of the universe is controlled by powers that have little concept of what is happening. This abbey has protected the true source of our enlightenment for millennia. Much that we do has been shrouded in secrecy. Sister Abigail showed the Conclave what we are truly capably of. We should all take heart at her sacrifice.”
Another Sister rose. “She should not have been risked so casually, Grand Mistress.”
Another frown. Ruma expected opposition, but not from the Mistress of Novices, Algiss Her.
“There was nothing casual in any of Abigail’s actions. She sacrificed herself so that the rest might find the opportunity to defeat Amongeratix and survive. Her sacrifice should not be trivialized by personal feelings. No one here grieves Abigail more than I. She was,” her voice caught, “a dear friend. I miss her dearly but will not sully her name by continuing to hide here on our little comet a million miles away from where the fate of our species is being decided.”
Algiss didn’t back down. “Her exposure was needless. The Conclave and Inquisition have made their choices. We should not be subject to their fallacies.”
“Algiss, this is not the time for internal conflict. The Order must stand strong and undivided. Dark times approach. We are no longer safe here as we once were. Sisters, I have not told you everything. Earlier this evening, I was visited by the Shackled Man. Amongeratix appeared in my sanctum and dared threaten us all to remain neutral if we wanted to live. His audacity has overstepped any assumed authority.”
Another round of gasps. The undertone changed, if slightly. Ruma detected the sudden absence of derisiveness and a push towards unity. Each Sister was vital to the Order, and she was the only one who knew their vision.
“This is unheard of,” Algiss snarled to the audience. “The Order of Blood Witches has existed for three thousand years. Never has our holy temple been invaded!”
Ruma concealed a smile.
“Grand Mistress, the Three are well known to the Sisters, perhaps more so than to any in humanity. Amongeratix is indeed powerful but never has he had the strength to breach our pro-tective wards. I speak for the novices. We stand united behind your leadership.”
“Thank you, Algiss. I fear our newest recruits may have to mature more rapidly than intended.”
Others rose in support of the Grand Mistress. Ruma’s heart swelled. Finally, every Sister stood, hovering slightly above the freshly swept floor. The combined threat of Amongeratix and the extinction of humanity united the Order precisely when Ruma needed them whole.
“Thank you, all of you. I cannot promise victory in the coming struggle. The prophecy of Forever Night is not a kind one to know, but I pledge to devote my very last breath to each of you.”
Deius Mlth, Mistress of Arms, slowly raised her hand. The murmur stopped at once. Deius had survived a battle with Amongeratix long ago and bore the scars. She knew better than most what the Three were capable of. Ruma had wasted no time in convincing the injured Mlth to become the Mistress of Arms, responsible for training cadres of Sisters to combat their most hated foe.
“Grand Mistress, I have a simple question,” she said in a surprisingly melodious tone.
Ruma tilted her head. “Of course, my old friend.”
“The Three are dangerous. Of that there can be no debate. Many of our kind have suffered dire wounds at their hands. I myself carry scars that will not heal, even after three centuries. Amongeratix and I have unfinished business, though that can wait. What role do we serve in preventing Forever Night?”
Ruma Zzein held her breath. Deius had asked the one question she was not prepared to answer in front of the entire Sisterhood. Choosing her words carefully, she began, “You ask for an answer that began thirty-five centuries ago, Sister. The Three started the Great War. Humanity believes otherwise, of course. How could the sons of the king of the gods be so callous as to endanger all life? Such shortsightedness is partially responsible for our troubles now. The universe burned as battles raged for centuries. I remained hidden, knowing that, should Amongeratix find me alive, he would use my gift of premonition to tilt the balance.”
She offered them a grim smile. “He knew that I had already been gifted with a vision of the end. I had correctly seen the battle of Occanum, where the last vestiges of his people went to do their final battle. The dark powers had the upper hand until Tannus and Sorrow arrived. Whatever foul sorcery they used has proven more powerful than any imagined. The battle ended with their people being scattered and sent into hibernation. I don’t offer explanation for this.
“Only the Three were unaffected. Sorrow disappeared for more than a thousand years. His mind was shattered by what he had seen and done. Amongeratix’s hatred deepened, but he lacked much of his strength. He hid until such a time as he could marshal enough power to attack his brother.
“Tannus undertook the gruesome job of finishing what he and Sorrow had started. He alone took his people to every planet and encased them in capsules where they still sleep, never more than one to a planet. It took him a great many years before he found solace among his own thoughts. He is haunted by his deeds and ever seeks redemption from a father who cannot hear him.” She paused to drink from her glass. The cool water soothed her vocal cords.
Ruma continued. “Humanity writes that the gods were destroyed. Now you all know the truth in this. Amongeratix knows the cold reality of this fact as well. He has longed to awaken several of his kind in efforts to reclaim the universe and take revenge against his brothers and father. Should he awaken just one of his race, he will be able to plunge us all into irrevocable darkness.
“We have been at war for a very long time, and I fear it is all coming to an end quickly. I ask each of you to return to your quarters to meditate. The future is not written. We still have time to change the course of events and stunt the Three from achieving victory. We shall reconvene at dawn.”
The Sisterhood rose as Ruma dismissed them. Only now did she sit back in the soft cushions of her chair. Unforeseen events were thrust against them, and she was suddenly blind. She waited patiently until there were just three, including herself. Deius and Algiss floated nearby, awaiting her instructions. Neither betrayed any emotion.
Ruma nodded at each. “Let us retire to my sanctum. There is much yet to discuss.”
Deius spoke once all three were comfortably seated around Ruma’s ancient stone table. “Ruma, I will speak plainly. We cannot hope to compete against what Amongeratix seeks to unleash. Our numbers were never many. Confronting him now will spell our doom.”
Turning to Algiss, Ruma asked, “And you?”
“I’m not sure what to make of all this. The Three are not all powerful as the Conclave would have the universe believe. They can be beaten and have been by each of us in this chamber. We should not let fear govern our emotions.”
“Fear?” Deius asked sharply. “It is not fear that stays my desire for vengeance. No Sister, it is prudence. This order was founded on the belief that a special few might enlighten the masses. We were never meant to be warriors.”
“I founded the Order because I was exiled from my race and trying to escape the dementia Amongeratix had in mind for me,” Ruma quietly reminded them. “Deius is correct, though. I never intended us to become warriors. Necessity drove us there. Loss is our binding element. We have all lost much to transcend humanity and become…more.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that we are not a major military threat,” Deius argued. “Our efforts will be in vain if we assault any of the Three head on.”
“Only if Amongeratix manages to awaken others,” Algiss cautioned. “He can be beaten when acting alone. Sister Abigail showed us this truth.”
Ruma held up a hand. Her transparent flesh took on the pale green color of the light orb hovering above the tabletop. “Ladies, please. Arguments among our ranks are pointless and only serve to strengthen the enemy. Personal opinions on the Three need be set aside until the threat is reduced.”
“Perhaps it is time to inform the Cardinal Seniorus of the box,” Algiss suggested hesitantly.
Ruma cocked her head. “Humanity is not ready for that. The effects will be potentially as devastating as the coming war. We mention the box only if all else fails.”
“All else is failing, Ruma. For Amongeratix to casually invade this most holy of chambers suggests exactly that. Our power is failing,” Deius persisted.
“I will not argue the point. My ability to see into the future has lessened of late. The one certainty I can provide is that we will not survive should we choose to stand alone. We must join forces with the Conclave.”
Deius frowned. “What of their witch hunters? I have no love for the Inquisition, no matter what praise you heap upon this Tolde Breed.”
“I’m not suggesting we give them our trust, merely our cooperation. Each order has its merits. Together, we can accomplish what has been left unattended for so long.”
Algiss lifted in the air. “I have heard enough. Ruma, I stand with you regardless of your decisions. I go now to prepare the novices. There is much to be done if they have a hope of surviving the flames.”
Deius rose and followed her to the door, pausing at the entrance. “I stand with you as well, Ruma. I always have, but know I maintain severe reservations on our course. The way is unclear. Move cautiously.”
Ruma Zzein watched her closest companions leave, but her thoughts were thousands of years in the past on a vastly different world. The Grand Mistress of the Order of Blood Witches struggled to keep the tears from running free as the image of her golden-haired daughter came unbidden to her. She often wondered what had become of the single most precious life in the universe, though deep in her heart she knew Amongeratix’s promise of revenge went deeper than just herself.