Elmyra sits in front of her mirror, staring into her eyes as she brushes her hair. She’s always loved her own eyes. The iris shifts between a swirl of emerald green and midnight purple. As she focuses on herself, she takes prolonged deep breaths. 

It is okay, we are just meeting the council. I do the ritual in a week, I am prepared anyways, but I still have time. The Grand Coven is not that scary Elmyra, they are just witches. 

Her mother’s excitement had manifested rather quickly; her mother only told Elmyra about the potential of this 3 days ago. Now here Elmyra is. Preparing for her presentation to become a witch. In hindsight, this makes sense. 

I mean mom is the head of our Coven, she runs the school, and she was a candidate for the Grand Council, I guess they would just rush me into this. She also really wants to start my training. 

The Grand Coven has almost selected her mother as a council member, several times actually, in the past. Her mother blames her exclusion on “witch politics and bureaucracy,” but Elmyra has yet to make sense of what that means. The Grand Council is an ever shifting group, and thus her mother is always angling to join them. 

No matter the motivation, this moment is monumental for Elmyra. Her heart races, and she struggles to control it. Even though this is just the presentation, it confirms that she will become a witch. Her life’s goal is going to be achieved. It’s overwhelming, but deep breaths help keep her regulated. As she breathes, she checks to make sure everything looks correct for the presentation. 

I can’t embarrass her today; this is what my life has been building to. This moment can be the start of who I am. This could be the beginning of my destiny. This is my chance to escape someday…

As she examines herself, she runs through her checklist. Setting down the brush, she checks that her brown hair parts on the left; like her mother asked. Good, she looks at her make up, and checks her markings. 

Familial crest under corner of my eye, check. Grand Coven crest in between my eyes, perfect. My tears from tear ducts, as to my ancestral line, 10 total, 5 each side. Cool. OH! Now I see what I am missing, my chin. 

She picks up the brush and marks her chin with the sign of the Rynaran Coven. A circle containing a filled in diamond. She sits back and looks it all over again and nods. One more deep breath, and she stands up. She flattens out the front of the ritual dress, and checks everything there. Her bone white gown has wavy sleeves that flow over her hands. Emblazed on both of her shoulders are midnight purple markings of the Scorro Coven’s crest. She turns to examine the dress’s length, and takes a couple steps, to make sure she will not trip. The dress flows about a foot behind her when she walks. Despite its impracticality, Elmyra is beaming with pride. Only her mother, and 2 other witches in the Scorro Coven, have ever even gotten to wear this type of dress. A Grand Witch initiate gown. For a split second while looking at herself, her chest fills with pride. One final look in the mirror, one final deep breath. Elmyra nods to herself, and picks up her bouquet of 9 roses. She holds them tight to her chest with both hands and opens her bedroom door. 

The hour is late, so the halls of Elmrya’s home are rather chilly. Elmyra’s room has a fireplace, but the halls barely even have torches. The dimly lit hallways are littered with a deluge of golden encased candles that a dozen butlers and housekeepers maintain throughout the night. Elmyra can see decently with her growing magical powers, but a grand witch like her mother, can see in these conditions as if it were midday. Her mother likes the aesthetic, and thus, the feckless heaters stay. 

As Elmyra leaves her room, Yolanda, her personal housekeeper approaches from the dark and greets her, “I was just about to get you but I trusted to leave you undisturbed, miss.” Elmyra looks back at her, “I told you to call me Elmyra. You do not have to call me ‘Miss,’ Yolanda.” 

As she speaks, Elmyra’s teeth clatter. Hurriedly, Yolanda throws an overcoat on Elmyra. “Ohhh, I know Miss but don’t take it personal. Your mother would have me head if I did not miss her. Best be careful with habit.” Yolanda rubs Elmyra’s back. 

Elmyra sighs and clatters back, “I know, I am sorry… I am just nervous. I don’t know what to expect.” 

Yolanda turns Elmyra towards her and holds her shoulders to confidently meet her gaze. “Miss, no matter what it is, I know you can do it. I know you can do whatever you put your mind to.” 

“Thank you Yolanda. I really appreciate you.” Elmyra takes another deep breath before looking back down the hallway. She nods, “Let’s go.”

Elmyra’s feet habitually carry her through the familial mansion. Witches often live in seclusion, to avoid dealing with detection. However, since the Scorro Coven is so prominent, their abode rests atop a hillside overseeing Holston. A massive structure that contains libraries, lodging, and many rooms that Elmyra has never set foot in. It was built after her family finished building the school. Its been added to for almost 6 millennia. At the center of this was her mother’s chambers, the oldest portions of the home. 

Her mother has been the mansion’s caretaker since her brother’s birth. Her mother had already been the head of the Scorro Coven at the time, so the role fell to her naturally. Her mother’s chambers lie below ground, at the end of a nearly 2 story spiral staircase. As they descend, Elmyra glances at the other doors along the staircase, and tries to remember which she’s seen. It could not be more than two of them. 

I wonder what all of these are for. I don’t get to come down here often… 

Yolanda stops Elmyra in her tracks. Rather than continue to the bottom, they have stopped at a new door. “I have to leave you here sweetie.” Yolanda swaddles Elmyra in a gentle hug, so as to not disturb her perfect presentation. Separating themselves, Yolanda looks warmly into her eyes, and says, “You are going to do great Elmyra. You are strong, you are gonna do great things, and this is one of them.” Elmyra nods, and says, “I love you Yolanda, thank you for being so kind to me.” They hold each other’s gaze in peace, just for a moment, while they hold each other’s hands. 

One more deep breath. I can’t stay here forever. This isn’t even a  big deal. I can do this, I am ready. 

Yolanda recognizes this thought on her face and nods. They breathe long and deep together, and exhale slowly. Yolanda squeezes Elmyra’s hands, turns, and knocks on the door 9 times. The door disappears in an instant. Yolanda turns and begins walking up the stairs. Elmyra looks back as Yolanda ascends and wishes she could go with her for a moment. As the moment passes, Elmyra glides her first foot forward. As the last bit of her dress slides through the doorway, the door warps into existence behind her.  

Continuing forward into the dimly lit room, she sees her mother who is beaming with pride. The room feels massive but only a small portion of it is lit by her mother holding a silver lantern. As Elmyra approaches, her mother extends a hand to her. A sense of weird ease washes over Elmyra in her mother’s gesture and presence. 

Why is she so calm? What is this feeling? Why is she looking at me like that? 

As Elmyra reaches her mother, she gives her a hug. She touches Elmyra softly on the shoulder and says, “Honey I am so proud of you. This is a huge moment for us. For you. For our family. You are going to be more than okay; you’re going to be the best witch the Scorro Coven has ever seen. This is your chance to be the greatest witch our family has ever seen.” 

What the Hell is this? Does she mean that? 

Her mother hugs her, and a strange warmth fills Elmyra’s chest. A final calmness that she was missing. Her mother lets go and gently holds her hand as she begins to guide Elmyra deeper into the room. The darkness smothers the room but, as they move the darkness seems to open in a cylinder around them. A more cloud like essence than a lack of light, it swirls and flicks at them but fades into nothing if it breaches the cylinder’s invisible barrier. As they walk the cylinder moves with them, something clicks for Elmyra. 

I did think it was odd that mom didn’t have a golden torch. I should have noticed that. It must be enchanted somehow. I have heard of this darkness before though. The enchantment must be a shield to the clouds of Hell. Who knows what Daemons could see us if we didn’t have this torch…

Her mother keeps moving her for a few more strides before coming to a halt. Pulling Elmyra to her side, she lets go of Elmyra’s hands, and begins whispering to herself. 

Slowly, the room flickers with a midnight purple amongst the darkness. Deep shades and hues dance and appear slowly in the wisps of the clouds as her mother whispers. Elmyra looks at her mother and can see her hands folded with her index fingers pointed to her chin as she talks. Never raising her voice above a whisper.

Her form is perfect, and her control is flawless. This room has to have so much magical energy, I think if I tried to do this my mind would actually melt. She’s probably going to enter her witch’s den soon. I don’t think I have ever se- Oh shit there it is! 

Her mother’s eyes roll into the back of her head and turn solid black. Elmyra looks ahead and sees the purples have become much brighter. The darkness and its clouds were slowly dissipating or receding into the walls. While the purple essence rushes together in the back of the room; forming what seemed to be 9 Orbs atop pillars. These pillars rest a few feet above the ground, and are dim at first. One flickers, and becomes a bright violet. Elmyra covers her eyes and looks down, she notices the floor for the first time. As the Darkness had faded, it revealed a large pool of maroon fluid sat nearly still as the purple is being pulled out of it. She recognizes this from her textbooks. She now knows exactly where she is. 

This is my family’s ancestral blood room?! The transformation ceremony is happening tonight?! Wait, Oh my God, I didn’t thin- I have t- Okay hang on. I thought this was just a presentation. I am actually on path to becoming a grand witch as of tonight?! Holy shit… Is this… am I going to do this? I- will I d- Am I re- oh shit calm down calm down you got this. Oh Rynara, this is such an honor. Tonight?! AH! Holy hell, am I actually doing this? Is th-

This paralyzing moment of panic is interrupted by a massive pulse from the pillars. All of the orbs have changed to match the same shade of bright violet. The pulse is shaking her insides but nothing in the room is being physically disturbed. Refocusing, Elmyra’s brain begins to rush through the steps of the Ritual in her head. 

Okay, witch’s den, I need to concentrate. I need to control my mind. I need to not fear. This is my choice. I need to trust Rynara will be there and, hopefully, pleased to see me. I’ve known about this ritual for 2 years, the Grand witch version is a little tougher but this is my path regardless. I am ready.  

The pulse settles, and the towers lie still. Her mother’s voice booms in a daemonic distortion of itself, deeply growling across the room. It booms and echoes. Shaking the blood with each word, 

“I call to see the Grand Council as the leader of the Scorro Coven. We are ready to begin and complete the ritual of my daughter, Elmyra Scorro, becoming a Witch.” 

Another thunderous voice replies from the shadows, “Your wish is granted.” 

A flashing clap of violet waves across the room, Elmyra looks down as it rushes past. When her eyes readjust, she sees her dress. The sleeves were slowly gathering a midnight purple. The flickers of purple were now being sewn into her dress as they approach her. The color joins the fabric and bleeds across her sleeves and up her arms fluidly, slowly, harmlessly. She looks back ahead to see the pool of blood shifting. Her mother holds her hands in the same pose silently. She will hold the connection to the Grand Council throughout the ritual, making sure they see Elmyra’s transformation. As the dress finishes filling, it remains in its dark midnight purple shade. Elmyra starts smiling,

Midnight shade is promising. Thank Rynara it is not pink; I surely would not win if I focus on the Potion and Blood track. Emerald would have been bad too; Agility and Stealth would have put me at a massive physical disadvantage. I am going to be a year behind, at least. The Woven Word and Magic track is my best shot. Thank Rynara and thank the Gods of Hell that worked out. 

She looks down and smiles at Hell. Maybe, there is someone looking out for her. Looking back up and ahead at the pool, she sees the blood rising into shapes. It raises up slowly, becoming molten as if wax was melting from a candle, to grow on top of itself. Slowly, 9 bodies were forming in front of her. The members of the Grand Coven. 

Even thought they are shrouded in darkness, and represented in a molten blood form, Elmyra still recognizes most of the Grand Council. Her mother had been showing her portraits, and training her to become more familiar with them in recent years. In this moment, she was thankful for such rigorous training. As they appear to finalize their forms, Elmyra addresses them,

“Good evening to you, members of the Grand Coven,” Elmyra steps forward to the edge of the pool of blood. “My name is Elmyra Scorro, and I wish to become a Grand Witch. Do you, the Grand Council, wish to allow me to attempt to prove my worth?”

The figures each nod, and kneel one by one. Except one. A large, domineering Elvish Witch stands firmly in the center. Elmyra recognizes him as Huron, the informal leader of the Grand Coven, and Leader of the Abeo Coven. Huron walks forward to the center of the pool. Once he arrives at the center, he locks eyes with Elmyra. She can no longer break his gaze, despite trying. She stares deeply into his molten blood eyes as they slowly bubble and flow into and out of themselves. He kneels and in Elmyra’s head she hears, 

Long have we waited for you. Your journey will shape the future of all witches.

Elmyra knows this is Huron, but his misshapen molten mouth does not move an inch. He nods to her, and says, “Your wish is granted Elmyra Scorro. When you are ready you will pass into your mind. Should you fail to escape by the sunrise, you will turn to ash. Begin when you please, may Rynara bless your journey.”

I might not even become a witch, I could die in this trial Huron…

A smile warps to shape on Huron’s bubbling mouth. 

That would be most pleasant…

Pleasant?! You said I am important?

My dear, you will only understand with time…

That’s not helpful. 

I do not wish to help my enemies my dear…

Elmyra feels him slip out of her mind. She sees Huron bow his head, breaking their shared gaze. Frustrated, but knowing she will get no more answers, she steps forward, and kneels in the blood. It comes up halfway on her calf as she kneels and covers the tops of her knees. It remains a normal liquid at the edge, flowing and bouncing off of her. Yet, it feels like nothing. It does not feel wet, and it does not feel like it touches her at all. 

Huron looks up at her as she kneels and nods. Elmyra now folds her hands, puts her index fingers to her chin and closes her eyes. She mutters, 

“Rynara, hear my plea and consume me, I give my life in service to you. I swear to serve you here on the Mortal Plane and thereafter in Hell. Grant me strength. Grant me power. Grant me cunning. For I will serve your will with all that you give me. Repair my mortal flesh with your power, and allow me to serve you forever.”

Elmyra opens her eyes and sees the room stop shifting and become completely still. No one moves or breaks their poses. They hear no voice, no answer, just silence. A disturbing silence. It hangs in the air as they all sit. A drop of blood slowly raises up in front of her, until it meets her eyes. It rests about 6 inches in front of her face. Slowly twirling and reflecting in a pearlescent violet around its edges. A soft feminine voice whispers in Elmyra’s head, 

You seek my guidance, and you shall have it Elmyra…

Elmyra now feels herself swiftly swept to the center of the room to be directly in front of Huron’s blood projection. As she settles, she maintains her pose kneeling in front of him. Huron firmly grabs both of her shoulders. He says to her, “Your plea has been heard. Your trial begins now.”

Huron lets go and Elmyra sees the blood shift out from underneath her. Her world spins in a speed she’s never felt or seen. She falls as the blood finishes clearing away. She falls straight down, into a vast nothingness. As she falls she looks up to see Huron watching, grinning and melting, as the blood envelopes her in this emptiness.