(8) Sacrifice

It had been a month or so since Bastion’s revelation. Annaliese hated the man, surely…but it went beyond just a simple loathing, spilling over into a self-hatred. This night, she sat alone, in the Slaughtered Lamb of Stormwind, pieces of parchment sprawled over the table. She drew like a woman possessed, over and over was the face of the man she hated, in charcoal, in pastel, the emerald eyes like searing poisonous ooze, scalding her inside. Perhaps if she blackened his eyes enough, she could put out the malignant gaze, cause him pain through the gashes of the charcoal that lined the paper. It was a futile, an idiotic dream, but she hoped one day she would have the strength to kill him and steal his soul. Keruptis had offered to kill him, but no…this was a fight between she and her former teacher. Letting another kill him would only prove that she was a coward. Perhaps she wouldn’t kill him.

There are fates worse than death…she knew firsthand.

Perhaps there was such a fate reserved for Bastion….but she had five years to decide that fate. And then, perhaps sweet release for her…?

She jumped at the sound of the hum of the ring on her finger, a familiar voice filtering through her mind.

“Annaliese…” it spoke, a curl of smoke both malicious and alluring as it came over the shadowy web of communication.

‘Y..yes…?’ was the nervous reply.

“I need you to accompany one of the others today. We need a guest for our gathering tonight. You and Darlaven will bring our esteemed guest, a paladin, perhaps a priest.”

Annaliese paused for a long moment, wondering what Keruptis’ intent was. Only warlocks were allowed to attend the meetings of the Scions, and only those warlocks within the Order, or who were being considered for initiation.

“What…I do not understand…milord…” she could only say in a tangle of tongue and thought.

“The Great Dark requires a gift of devotion from those that serve it, Annaliese,” was his only explanation, the words subtle as she was accustomed to. “There is a young paladin outside of the Stormwind gates. Befriend her, gain her trust, and invite her to our little gathering tonight.”

She leaned her back against the chair she sat upon, gazing at the candlebra quizzically upon the evening’s display, as if she were begging the dancing flames for answers. Despite the floating questions in her mind, only one really spilled forth from her lips…

“And the name of our guest?” it came, her hand adding a few more strokes to the drawing of Bastion Delaurac carelessly.

There was a pause, a moment of strained anticipation, which he seemed delighted in evoking.

“Lucihelma,” he spoke, the name heard through a wide, sinister grin.

(Late into the evening)

The young girl stood there in confusion, no doubt expecting a dinner table filled with food and generous guests. Instead, she was met with a group of warlocks, having summoned her from the Cathedral at Anna and Darlaven’s behest. Annaliese watched as Luci stepped closer to her, her eyes wide in fear as they examined the various demons near their masters. Annaliese did as she was instructed, befriending the girl with Darlaven at her side, even having Damos there to further strengthen the trust. They spoke briefly, and Luci had immediately warmed to Anna especially. Now the girl clung to Anna, her bright eyes asking questions that the warlock was unable to answer.

“Where am I…?” Luci piped hesitantly, her hand clenched onto Anna’s robes until the knuckles were stark white. Anna turned her eyes to the young paladin, but the answer was given by Keruptis instead.

“Welcome, young one. Melicity, bind her hands and bring her before the pyre,” he instructed, the intensity of the moment heard in his smooth voice. Luci struggled, looking at each of them with fear as Melicity grasped onto her, two more Scions aiding in restraining the girl. They bound her wrists behind her tightly, and Luci shuddered, beginning to cry as she turned to Anna, eyeing the ritual blade that the Dark Lord pulled from the shadows of his robe.

“Anna! Please! Help me!” Lucihelma cried in between her choking tears, trembling as they pushed her to her knees. Anna rushed to her side, but Melicity shot her a look, dark eyes like metal daggers fresh from a blacksmith’s anvil. Anna…stayed where she was.

Keruptis began to speak the words of the ritual, but Anna scarcely held them, her ears and eyes focused on the broken paladin before them all. The stifling silence shared between the rest of the warlocks was graced with a lingering anticipation, even as Keruptis stepped forward, towering over the girl. Luci was at a loss of words by now, her cries lost in her sobs. One by one, each warlock offered their finger or thumb to be split open upon the ritual blade, signifying their own sacrifice. Anna hardly felt as the dagger cut across her palm. Luci let out a cry, her fear and hopelessness mixed into the sound. Despite another look from the raven-haired Melicity, Anna drifted toward Luci’s side, kneeling beside her, putting a comforting hand on the paladin’s shoulder.

“Pray with me, Luci…” Anna whispered, the other warlocks expecting her to be ripped away from the sacrifice and punished. Indeed, Melicity looked as if she would plunge the dagger into her own Sister’s heart, disturbing the ritual as she was. The Dark Lord only paused for a moment, setting his own hand on Melicity’s shoulder, calming her, bading her to continue with the ritual. His words continued, and Anna continued her soothing of the girl.

“I don’t want to die, Anna!” she whispered between gasps, and Anna put her finger to her own lips in a hushing motion, as if quieting a sick child.

“Shh…Luci, pray with me.”

The paladin’s breaths came faster, faster as she eyed the dagger, the flame roaring before her. Keruptis passed the dagger to Melicity, nodded to her, his eyes then turning to affix on Annaliese. Melicity, surprisingly gentle, reached for Anna’s hands, wrapping her fingers around the handle. Luci uttered a lamenting moan, which evaporated into shuddering sobs, watching Anna wield the dagger.

“Cut into her heart, Annaliese. Drive the blade deep,” Keruptis spoke gently, terribly. A hush fell over the gathered as Anna looked down to the dagger in her hands, all transfixed to her coming action. The warlock looked at the young girl she had befriended, whose trust she gained, the girl broken on her knees. The wide eyes looked upon her, pleading, begging…

…how much she seemed like little Amara in that moment…

“I…I…c…” Anna stammered, trembling with the dagger in her hands, her own tears spilling forth. She heard Melicity snarl, and then rip the blade from her hands.

“Weakling!” she spat, and drove the dagger into Luci’s chest herself. How the light went out of her eyes as her lifeblood spilled through the wound in her chest. Melicity craved more, dragging the dagger down to her hip. Anna nearly toppled over, but some of the other Scions came to support her, pulling her away from the dying paladin. The girl’s name was a strangled, guilty whisper on Anna’s lips as Keruptis stepped forward, reaching into the wound, tearing out Luci’s heart like a bleeding, plucked flower beating in his hands.

“As her blood spills, so do her energies, strengthening the power of this place and flowing through the Darkness around us.”

His eyes scanned over each and everyone of them from beneath the shadows of the hood, the words holding their own power, which the others writhed at.

“May the Great Dark find our actions and this sacrifice worthy of the Darkness.”

Each of their eyes found the flame they circled around, Anna’s sobs heard quietly in the seared air.

“The circle has ended. Remember, the circle is broken, but never undone. Always a circle, as with the spheres, may its power continue to flow within us. You may draw upon its energy whenever it is needed.”

The flame roared as the heart was fed to the it. Anna felt no searing dark power, no calling. No great voice whispered into her ear, telling her that her efforts would be rewarded. Instead, she only stared at the violated body of the young girl on the ground, lifeless, her blood spilling over the ground into the flame.

“Idiot!” Melicity seethed aloud, after a moment at Annaliese. Anna only met the penetrating gaze with uncomprehending, glazed orbs. “If you screwed this up, I would have-”

“Melicity.”

All of them turned at the sound of Keruptis’ voice. For the first time since she had been among the Scions, he spoke with an empathetic tone toward them all, regarding Annaliese with a softened gaze.

“The act of sacrificing is not an empty one, Scions. We are not monsters, and compassion is not a weakness. Indeed, some of us sacrifice a piece of ourselves when that heart is fed to the flames. Remember that.”

The other Scions began to wander, their conversations melding into an amorphous mass of chatter. Annaliese only stood where she was left, the body of the young girl, so alike her daughter, forever burned into her mind.