"And this water symbolizes baptism that now saves you also—not the removal of dirt from the body but the pledge of a clear conscience toward God. It saves you by the resurrection of Jesus Christ."
2 Corinthians 11:13
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Perhaps it was three days that passed of them traveling deeper into Hell, following Zelda's map and Constance's insight as well as they could. Constance said nothing, asked nothing that strayed from the topic of location or topography, but Zelda knew she had questions, saw them teeming in her eyes, threatening to spill from her lips. Maybe, if Zelda did not feel the effects of Hell upon her so heavily, she would've prompted them out of the witch.
"Unholy shit Zelda, your nose." The taste of copper filled her mouth, it rotted like death on her senses. Her hand went to her face and pulled away with blood.
"Gods..."
"Sit, you must sit. Here" Constance sat Zelda down on the side of the ridge they were on, on the outskirts of one of the many cities in Hell which, in itself, was steps away from where spirits and demons were tortured. "Now there has to be a cloth of some sort in your bag, and water, you'll need more water..." Constance applied pressure with a spare shirt from Zelda's bag, ruffling through more items until she found a small water bottle, only half full of the needed liquid.
"We'll need to get you more."
"Where can we find water in Hell," Zelda asked, genuinely confused.
"This place is much more complicated than you believe, Spellman. I know a witch who resides here who might be willing to help, but it won't be easy to get to her."
"Who's she?" Constance's brow quivered at the thought, but determination showed in her eyes, a determination to not let Zelda die, not while she seemed to still have a purpose.
"Circe. She isn't very nice, and most times she extracts a price for her help. But maybe this time she'll be helpful." Zelda stood up from the ridge, wiping the remains of blood from her nose. Her hand was covered in it reminding her of the stain of the pomegranate against her skin in the garden. She always seems to go back there, to the beginning of this whole journey.
Zelda built the church and now she had to save it, so even if it took three more days to convince Circe to help them, to help her survive this, then she would.
"Alright, then we should go quickly. I'm tired of traipsing around Hell."
"Circe is in the middle of this city, her building is hard to find. inconspicuous for someone so...glamorous."
"Do you have a plan?"'
"A horrible one, banking on the fact that most down here keep their heads down. We aren't necessarily in enemy territory, but no one trusts the person next to them. If anyone; demon, witch, spirit or otherwise think that you're suspicious, they might raise an alarm."
"And I suppose enemies lurk all places in Hell."
"Exactly, if they figure you out it's a quick kidnapping." Zelda scrunched her nose in thought.
"Maybe I could use a glamour, to make myself look like a demon for just long enough to get to Circe's."
"In your state, you won't be able to sustain a full-body glamour for long."
"I won't have to, look," Zelda felt like she was in one of Ambrose's games where a mage comes at just the right moment to make an idiotic plan miraculously work. A stray demon, hiking aimlessly amongst the rocks and most importantly alone, muttering to themselves, crazed. They carried a cloak over their shoulders and it dragged in the rocks behind them.
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The Seed || A Madam Spellman Story
Fanfiction"What do we do now?" There was no solid answer to the question Hilda proposed to Zelda the day after their world collapsed. The only thing they could do, the only thing Zelda was certain of, was that they needed to rebuild. Regroup. So much could...
