Echos of the Coven

ONE

After the vision released its grip on me, I found myself back in the present, kneeling within the ceremonial circle, surrounded by pulsating symbols. The other Coven members converged around me in a tight circle, blocking me from standing or running, which is what my mind screamed at me to do. Their hooded figures, obscured by shadows, betrayed no emotion, their silence adding an eerie quality to the already surreal scene. My attempts to rise or break free were met with an invisible force as if the very energy of the ritual bound me to the ground. Panic clawed at the edges of my consciousness, urging me to flee from the encroaching figures.

I saw Roger's black eyes full of greed. His long, slender figure reached out like a skeleton, pulling me to my feet.

"You have seen," His voice resonating with a haunting authority. It was neither accusatory nor welcoming but a statement of fact that hung like an unspoken verdict.

You are the vessel," Roger declared, the words carrying a weight that seemed to resonate with the very stones beneath us. "Bound by blood and destiny, the awakening approaches."

It was too much. 

The magic, the vision. The knowledge that I now held in my mind. My breath came in short gasps, and my vision blurred. The ground came rushing up to meet me again, and then blackness encased me in a cocoon of darkness.

I floated in this sea devoid of light. It was peaceful and calm. There was no fear, loneliness, or cold, hungry nights spent cowed in my cell. For the first time in my life, I was at peace.

"You must wake, Lyla.

You are in great danger." That voice was familiar, yet I couldn't place it. I tried to ignore the voice and lose myself in the darkness. But the voice persisted. I couldn't find an escape from its smooth melody.

"Lyla, WAKE NOW!"

I shot up violently. I was discombobulated, and my head pounded against my skull. When my eyes came into focus, I didn't recognize my surroundings. White walls greeted me the smell of bleach permitted in the air. Where was I, and how did I get here?

The bed under me was soft, not like the hard cot I was used to. There was even a blanket that smelled of roses and fresh pine, offering a warmth that clashed with the chill that coated the room. The thin silk nightgown clung to me, leaving me feeling vulnerable and exposed. I reached for the comforting embrace of the blanket, wrapping it tightly around myself. Shivers ran down my spine as I stood on shaky legs that trembled like a newborn deer.

Memories of what happened came rushing back, the ritual. The vision. The magic. I drop the blanket to look at my wrist, remembering the pain as the flesh is torn off. There on both wrists was a circle. Burned into my pale skin. It was red and angry-looking. The lines seem to have been drawn on by someone with unsteady hands. 

 The door creaked open, and a figure stepped into the room. It was Clark, a member of the Coven, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity.  I instinctively tightened the blanket around me.

Lyla," he murmured, his voice carrying a strange mixture of infatuation and possessiveness. He moved closer, his gaze lingering on every inch of my form as if trying to consume me with his eyes. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at me as if I were an object to be possessed. The fragrance of roses and pine, once comforting, now felt like a suffocating perfume in the close quarters.

 "Lyla, how are feeling?" he asked, a predatory smile playing on his lips. His question held a veiled threat as if he knew more than he let on. The red circles on my wrists seemed to draw his attention, and his eyes narrowed with a disturbing fascination.