A Midnight Gathering

We grasped our hands together, shaking as the condensation plumed from our lips. The fire danced in front of us as the music played and we bowed our heads. "Moonlight Sonata," 1st movement, Marioverehrer. I remember this night in such detail; the way his hand shook in mine. I remember the smoke blowing, mixing with the falling snow and drifting through the trees. Oh, it was a breathtaking night. As in I quite literally could not breathe. I can't recall if it was the cold air or just the flood of anxiety pushing my blood through by veins; I really did feel as if they were going to burst. He squeezed my hand; affirmation. I let out a shaky, half breathed sigh in response.
That was it; that was the day I was giving myself to him forever. My dress just barely kissing the ground, consumed my legs. I wore thin black tights, for family tradition didn't care if it's cold; therefore I was grateful for the protection. The dress was thick black wool with a layer of lace atop it, wide in the skirt but cinching so tightly in the waist one felt as if she were going to snap in half. Perhaps that's why I could't breathe.The sleeves ran full length, clasped with black pearl buttons from wrist to mid arm. I must admit, for an heirloom it fit me as if it were made on my body.
But I was nothing compared to the sight of Him. He who had somehow managed to make a leather jacket look sophisticated on his wedding day. He blended in here just as well as he would have in biker bar, and yet looked paramount among the rest. As we were cued, we made our first steps towards the raging fire. I watched him, his gaze unwavering as he met the eyes of the High Priest. The light from the touches reflected off of the brass and silver pins on his jacket as we passed. He was decorated amongst us, though just months ago he had known nothing of this life; and if not for me, he still wouldn't. The Isle was a bed of moss, and all of the seats were made of the trees. The forest had provided for me, the way it had for my mother; and for hers. I tried not to look to closely into the masses, I didn't want to meet anyone's gaze. I was having a difficult enough time breathing as it were. When we took our final step, the High Priest's voice boomed above all; an unnaturally loud and deep sound that  rattled even the trees. He read from the The Gray Book; a relic of our ancestors, our Holy Bible... He read dark words in Latin about death, about the joining of souls, and the consequences of broken loyalty; of breaking a blood oath. An oath intended to be until death. The High Priest lifted a blade off the alter, grabbed my hand and quickly slashed a deep gash into my palm. Blood instantly began to pour onto the earth and soak the sleeve of my dress. I showed no sign of the pain, that was absolutely forbidden. My memories begin to wane here, I think i was feeling faint. I remember his bleeding palm outstretched; I grasped it in mine. A surge hit my body, like tamed lightning. I could feel his strong pulse in my palm as our blood combined. Our hands were wrapped in a shroud of silk, tied together as the High Priest spoke over us once again; I heard none of it. All my mind could focus on was the feeling in my palm. It couldn't have been any stronger if I had ripped his heart from his chest and clutched it, still pulsing, as it dripped on the snowy ground.
Bound as one, we bowed. First to the Gods, then to the High Priest who placed a diadem of ivy on my head, and one of holy upon my husbands. Finally, we bowed to the crowd, who stood and clapped respectfully as we made our way back down the isle. I turned to inspect the scene, one last glance revealing a trail of blood in the fresh snow from our still bleeding hands; and then then all at once the flames went out, and everything was ash.