A TREMOR RESONATED THROUGH SKIN, PENETRATING IVORY BONES. The cold unforgiving knife slashed deep. Gola unleashed a hoarse shriek, followed by a silenced whimper. When all is said and done not only does her sliced hand drip with blood but her bitten bottom lip too.
Yvonne keeps eyeing her. And Gola knows that she's aware something has changed. Gola is awaking. And she'll not be a pawn in anyone else's game.
Other worldly symbols are lining the ground, the candles flicker, the crystal glass is filled with the blood of the women surrounding it. The moon is high and the night is eternal. There is ancient magic humming the air.
"Now we join hands." Yvonne instructs, there is sultry purr to her voice. Her hair floats like a halo around her. Power is radiating off of her being in shock waves.
Go ahead play with your powers now. Gola ponders with a humorless chuckle. Because this'll be the last time.
And they do. They lock hands. Torn open skin puzzling against torn open skin. Young blood mingling. Blending. Fusing.
"We've bleed, now—we bond." Sylvia speaks, breaking apart the uncomfortable silence sounding nothing less than eager. Her hair floats like Yvonne's. And she's literally alight, glowing just like the moon.
Yona expected Sylvia to at least complain about how unsanitary it was to mix blood, though the little siren seems to be having an all around good time. Sense clicked like a puzzle solved in her brain. Stars connected to form constellations. The picture was translucent.
Sylvia attended Saint saltswater Academy. An elite Academy that fails to use money and fame to cover up all of the paranormal occurrences of which it associates. Sylvia is drawn to the smith manor like moth to a flame, her beauty routine is nothing less than a odd religious ritual and she's familiar with blood bonds.
Another witch! How surprising. Yona thought sarcastically.
The fire from the candles flickered as being blown on by a gush of air. Before the light itself separated from the candle stick hovering just above like tiny suns.
Yvonne starts. Murmuring America's name. America spoke Kennedy's. Kennedy whispered Nyx. Nyx called Sylvia. Sylvia purred Yona. Yona sang Gola.
The brilliant tiny fire balls circle above the women's heads swiftly yet calmly.
Gola called on Clementine.
Sparks fly. The fire balls are now mini heads with little blooming bodies, holding hands, dancing in a circle above their heads.
Yvonne gasped but before she could protest Gola finished, "I summon you."
Fire that had taken on the shape of little people skipping joyfully in a circle, stretched and lowered to the floor. Moving around the permitter of the scarred circle Yvonne had drawn.
The symbols, the ancient letters
written on the ground were no longer outline in white chalk but rather engraved in flames.
Gola was the first to leave the ground. Levitating on her scarlet pillow cushion. Yona followed. Then Nyx and Kennedy. Sooner or later the whole group floated above ground.
