The Scar

Gloria decided to skip the meeting with the Mothers. Though Faelina’s blood had revived her from the taxing channeling hours prior, she could not conjure up the resolve to face the Mothers with blood churning inside her stomach. Having spent almost a year at Beltraine had made her somewhat used to hiding her dark secret. But due to the Mothers’ rare appearances to date, Gloria hadn’t gotten comfortable with facing them just yet. She gazed up at the chandelier above her bed, wondering what the meeting was about. Her mind wandered to the vampire she’d help to kill, shuddering as she recalled his final gesture, stretching his hand toward her as though begging for mercy. 

An odd sensation about her midriff pulled her from her reminiscing. Throwing the vermilion sheet off, Gloria raised her sweaty shirt. What she saw disgusted her. Covering her navel, extending radially about three inches from it, was a mysterious scar no one knew about. Black with wrinkled skin that prickled even now, she had no idea how she got it. Her intuition told her it was related to her vampirism, a condition she didn’t know how she acquired. Slowly, she ran her hand over the rough skin, frustrated about how little she knew about herself, her past, and her vampirism. Gloria’s memories before being enrolled at the Beltraine Sisterhood were almost non-existent. Now and again, fragmented images from her former life washed up in the form of nightmares, which led her to believe her past was filled with pain and blood. It was almost as though her memories were somewhat altered the second she came here. Gloria understood the Mothers sometimes did just that if they thought it was necessary, though all the sisters she was acquainted with here had their memories intact. The curtains fluttered beside her bed from a gentle breeze. Through its teal fabric, Gloria watched the waning moon, its luminescence struggling to pierce through shawls of dark clouds. The gong struck atop the chapel, its low, mournful note sending shivers down her spine. The sounding of the gong signified the moon’s transition from one phase to the next. Here in Nocteraia, the moon wasn't just a celestial body, it dictated their very existence. In each of the four phases, lasting six fleeting hours, the moon beamed a unique ambience and luminosity. They’d just entered the Ebenveil Moon, which was bedtime. The characteristic cold of Ebenveil hit her immediately as Gloria watched as the moon went black.

As she eagerly awaited Faelina’s return, so she could hear what the Mothers had to say, Gloria stared out into the night, bored. Her eyes settled on the top half of the Alphatenory Brotherhood’s chapel. The remainder of the building was hardly visible through the dense foliage of the out-of-bounds Shadowgrove forest. The spires jutted toward the sky, glinting silver. Gloria had never met the students from Beltraine’s twin institution. Precious little information was let on about Alphatenory, and Gloria wondered if that was by design. But it would be nice if the sisters were allowed to meet the brothers on occasion, she thought. Gloria rose, deciding to take a bath to wash away the sweat and dirt from her body. She was going to have to change the sheets as well, she thought. Gloria was halfway to the bathroom when she heard a knock. Halting, she glanced backward, waiting for the knock to come again. It did, more forcefully this time.

“Gloria? Open the door.”

Gloria didn’t recognize the voice at first. 

“Just a sec!” she hollered. Shuffling to the bathroom, she washed her face and rinsed her mouth. Done, she scampered to the door, unlocked it, and muscled it open. A dark-skinned girl with a star-shaped scar on her jaw regarded her. Her name was Rowan, a second-year prefect in Dorm L.

“Your presence is required in the chapel now,” she informed in her deep voice.

With that, the girl spun and paced back down the aisle. Gloria watched as the vestal, Aurelius wisped past her, rising to the third floor.

…

Five minutes later, Gloria strolled into the chapel. There on the pulpit was not one, not two, but the Three Mothers sitting stiffly with grave, wrinkled faces. Though she knew beforehand they would be there, Gloria felt her stomach flip inside her body, her mouth drying. What wouldn’t she do to acquire the power of invisibility right now? Gloria thought as she made the agonizing trek to the front, where the first years were seated. The chapel was as quiet as a cemetery. Had they paused the meeting for her? she wondered. Her breathing short and labored, Gloria passed the prying eyes of the second-years seated behind the first years. A feeling of uneasiness roiled inside her as she spotted Faelina and Osara seated in the penultimate row of the Dorm L cohort. She took a seat beside Faelina, her head spinning.

 

 As if compelled, Gloria’s head rose to the pulpit, trembling as she looked directly into the ancient eyes of Lysandra, the Mother of Light, whose gaze was like a laser prizing away all the layers of her skin and mind. Time seemed to stop for a second as their eyes did a sort of silent dance, Mother Lysandra’s posture as stiff as death. Betraying her considerable age, her long white hair fell upon her shoulders like the veil of a wizened nun. Then, the moment passed. Gloria felt her muscles relax, her breathing, which she only now realized had also stopped, resuming with a frantic gasp. 

“You alright?” Faelina asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Gloria sighed, nodding. For some reason, she didn’t even want to speak in the presence of the three Mothers, afraid they might use their legendary witchery to unearth her deep secret. She noticed Faelina had worn a thick coat with its collar pulled up to hide the bite marks. 

“The meeting actually hasn’t started. We only just finished mass,” Faelina whispered. 

Gloria hazarded a glance at the pulpit again and saw the vestals floating by the side of their respective Mother: Obsidia beside Mother Crimsonia, Aurelius next to Lysandra, and Paracelsus astride Meirothea. The mass exercise was usually conducted by one of the most senior sisters of Beltraine. The hall descended into deathly silence as Mother Crimsonia rose, positioning herself behind the lectern. The amorphous mass of black that was Obsidia hovered next to her. Faelina turned her head away, only to snap it back to attention when the Mother of Justice started speaking. She was garbed in a black tunic. Her long, fiery red hair somehow made her look decades younger. At two hundred and eighty-five years old, Mother Crimsonia was the youngest Mother. She was the quietest of the three, hardly ever speaking. Also, Gloria hadn’t seen her smile once in the year she’s been here. Yet, Mother Crimsonia didn’t seem unapproachable to Gloria. She did seem austere but in a different sense than Mother Lysandra. Mother Crimsonia’s demeanor, when tasked with being strict, was more like a mother scolding a child out of love. This approach was different than the harsher, reactionary punishment Mother Lysandra (and sometimes Mother Meirothea) tended to mete out. Of course, Gloria knew her thoughts weren’t concrete, and so her appraisal of their demeanors could be very wrong. Gloria took a deep breath as the Mother of Justice began her address.

“Sisters of Beltraine, may the Providence of the divine Crown Goddess bless you and keep you, as you learn the way of light. You may be wondering why all three Mothers are here on this grand night, gracing you with our presence. The astute among you will even deduce how significant this is. My sisters will correct me if I’m mistaken, but it has been about two years since we three gathered here in this chapel. And at that time, like now, the circumstance was quite dire. Back then, the iniquities of the world was threatening to breach our walls. The hearts of mankind had become hopelessly dark, the murders reaching closer and closer to our sanctum here at Beltraine.” Mother Crimsonia paused, looking about her and straightening her black tunic. 

Gloria gazed at her transfixed, curious about the remainder of her address.

“Back then,” she continued, her tone serious, “our diligent prayers worked, and Mother Crown allayed the danger. In these times today, we face something similar. But I daresay, my sisters, we are no longer fighting against mankind. You saw proof of this tonight, when we banished a vampire. You see, the devil has devised ways and means to test our resolve, so we must come together as one force to repel him. You may have heard the rumors by now…whispers floating around the grounds that the vampires are wreaking havoc on the streets of Nocteraia.”

Gloria fidgeted upon hearing 'vampire', her scar pulsing uncomfortably. She stole furtive glances around her to gauge how suspicious the other sisters were of her reaction. Everyone was in rapt attention, including Faelina, who stared unblinkingly at the Mother. 

“These rumors are true.” Mother Crimsonia continued, her voice a rasp. “My sisters and I have confirmed the traces of paranormal evil getting more prevalent right here in Nocteraia. I say all this to say that we as the heads of Beltraine will do our part in keeping you sisters safe. But be forewarned, our efforts in doing this shall affect the daily lives of each and every one of you. You can expect a series of drills in the near future as we prepare you for the vile world. Also, new security measures we will be introduced posthaste. I welcome Mother Lysandra to update you further.”

Gloria watched as Mother Meirothea whispered something to Lysandra. She heard the words spoken between them, but she didn’t understand them. Were they speaking in a different language? she wondered. 

“We’ve heard this all before, haven’t we?” Osara asked.

Gloria nodded. She had heard about the vampires increasing their activity before, but it came from the sisters, not the Mothers. 

“Yeah, but it rings a little differently coming from the Mothers, doesn’t it?” Faelina echoed her thoughts.

 

Mother Lysandra finally stood, her vestal, Aurelius hovering above her head as Mother Crimsonia sat. At three hundred and thirteen years old, Mother Lysandra was the oldest Mother. The sisters generally thought of her as the friendliest of the three, but Gloria couldn’t disagree more. The Mother of Light was extremely blunt and austere. It wasn’t difficult for Gloria to imagine her cursing someone to death after they blasphemed the name of the Crown Mother.

“Greetings sisters,” she began. Her voice was croaky, cracking at intervals. She continued, running a spidery hand through her straight, black hair.

 “It’s quite sad that the only times my sisters and I deem it fit to sit with you is in dark times like these. We shall move to correct this as it is unbecoming of the unity we preach. Sister Crimsonia has already told you the crux of the matter. I shall remind you what our mission is, here at Beltraine, for it is easy for us to lose our way and get caught up in what doesn’t really matter.” Mother Lysandra took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Gloria got the distinct feeling she was staring at her even with her eyes closed. Half amused, half wary she was onto something, Gloria flashed her head to vanquish the feeling. Osara turned to her mechanically, shooting her an “are you stupid?” stare. Gloria ignored her as the Mother of Light continued, her voice stronger, more impassioned than before.  

“The vision of Beltraine is to create a bastion where young women can begin a journey of transcendence through righteous deeds, holy magic, meditation, and chastity. It is our steadfast intent for Beltraine to be a sort of exemplar of feminine mysticism, where women, upon achieving the title of transcendence by the Mother Crown, can venture into the world to create real change with holy magic. That is the beginning and end of our purpose. Everything else is secondary. Any force that fights against this endeavor, and the teachings of the Mother Crown, is seen as devilish and malevolent, having no place in our space nor the world. A multitude of devils’ spawns rise and fall with time, but now it seems to be the age of the vampires. As Sister Crimsonia said, they are the present threat. I’ll allow Sister Meirothea to rap up this meeting. We know we’re well within the Ebenveil Moon. But she will be succinct, I hope, so you call all go get some well-needed rest.”

With that, Mother Lysandra left the lectern. Gloria felt numb. She only had to get through Mother Meirothea’s speech and get away from the Mothers before she felt at ease. Ever since she’d walked into the chapel, she was on edge. She’d envisioned a million ways her secret could be exposed. Most of them involved the Mothers using their magic to somehow cause her to confess to being addicted to the taste of human blood, admit to feasting on Faelina nightly, expose the dark fantasies she entertained.

“Greetings sisters,” Mother Meirothea screeched. “As my sisters established, the vampires are the present threat to us. And as such, we believe it is wise that you know the history of the relationship among witches, vampires, and lycans. As the saying goes: Know thy enemy.” Mother Meirothea paused, clearing her throat. She cast her eyes down at the sisters, slowly nodding as though she was pleased with something.

Gloria angled her head from the Mother’s gaze, her heart surging.  

  Mother Meirothea continued in an even tone, “Believe it or not, sisters, before the Sun was banished long ago in another age, the witches were actually neutral toward vampires. Witches gladly performed their art by day, while the vampires and lycans left a trail of blood by night. Although in principle the three factions disliked each other, they coexisted in peace, each showing grace to the other by virtue of the power they held relative to humans.”

Caressing her stomach to soothe the prickling scar, Gloria listened to the Mother of Mercy’s address. It was a story she heard many times before from the second-years. But to hear it from Mother Meirothea herself made it that much more impactful.    

Mother Meirothea continued, “Everything changed when the Sun was extinguished, prophecies…” her voice trailed away, replaced by awkward silence. 

Gloria sighed, annoyed at the interruption. Mother Lysandra had made her way to the rostrum, whispering to Mother Meirothea, who now nodded. In all the versions of Nocteraia’s history Gloria had heard, this was the first time she was hearing of a prophecy. 

“Nocteraia was bewitched into perpetual night,” Meirothea said. “And as you can imagine, the vampires took this to mean they could do as they pleased, slaughtering indiscriminately from one moon cycle to the next, in their unquenchable bloodthirst. It remained like this for a time. Then came the Salvia Moon…the witches’ response to the vampires’ degenerate lifestyle. Now, fast-forward to present times…” Mother Meirothea paused for emphasis. 

“To put it bluntly,” she said, her voice a low rasp. “The vampires are frustrated with the Salvia Moon. It represents a symbol of their oppression. The fact that they have to hide on those Salvia Moon nights as the moon beams down rays lethal to them, is becoming unbearable. And though they feed on normal, defenseless humans for sustenance, it is really witches who they want to harm. We seek to honor our ancestors who instituted the Salvia Moon to curb the chaos those bloodsucking abominations can cause. And Beltraine seeks to produce witches with the requisite skill to keep the Salvia Moon burning…to keep witches as the supreme force in Nocteraia.”

…

“So, it seems the vampires are multiplying,” Osara said, sitting on Faelina’s bed.

They’d just walked over to the Dorm after being dismissed from the meeting in the chapel.

Gloria eyed Osara disdainfully as she spoke. She had agreed to them getting together like this after the meeting, but now Gloria’s mood was haywire, mangled up by the Mothers’ speeches. Besides, Gloria always felt on edge whenever someone entered the room, wary that they would discover evidence of her vampirism. Now, she just wanted to be in the peace of her comfort zone. She wanted to spend the final hours of Ebenveil with Faelina without having to go paranoid over the dark veins that sometimes crept under her eyes, or mistakenly letting down her canines, or her bloodlust metamorphosing her eyes from innocent black to forbidding red. Worse, Gloria had been slowly losing control over all these things as of late… things she realized she had to address quickly. As soon as the meeting with the Mothers was over, Gloria felt the change in the whole vibe of Beltraine. The very air seemed tense with nervous energy as if it too was worried about what the vampires were up plotting.

“I’m not worried about them,” Faelina said, standing before the mirror of the chest of drawers. “The witches have an advantage over them, I think. One spell, and they’re dust.”

Gloria fidgeted, glancing at Faelina for any signs that was what she wanted to do to her. Faelina’s gaze was on Osara, who nodded.

“You have a point, but you’re downplaying the strength of the vampires. The witches instituted the Salvia Moon for a reason.”

“Speaking of…” Gloria said. “When is the next Salvia Moon?”

Osara shrugged. “Soon, I think. Don’t you have your Moontracer?”  

Faelina pulled out the first drawer on the chest of drawers, plucking a coiled parchment from it. The scroll glowed a light silver as she unraveled it. Tracing her hand over the rough glitter, Faelina’s hand stopped.

“The Salvia Moon is sooner than I thought,” she stated, her eyes glued on the moon calendar. “We’re now almost at the end of Ebenveil, a few hours out from the Opal Moon. The next Salvia Moon happen when the moon cycles to the next Ebenveil Moon.”

Gloria was confused. She had to know exactly when the Salvia Moon would be, so she could prepare herself mentally for it.

“Explain that again, Faelina,” Gloria demanded. 

Faelina offered her a knowing stare, handing the Moontracer to Osara beside her. 

Osara took it, nodding after studying it for a while. “Simple. We’re now in Ebenveil, right? So, the moon will cycle as it normally does through the remainder of Ebenveil, the Opal Moon, Ashveil, Emberglow, then Ebenveil again.” Osara paused, bringing the Moontracer closer to her face. “Then, the next moon cycle begins as normal. But at the end of that cycle, instead of Ebenveil, we’ll have the Salvia Moon. Get it?” Osara gazed at Gloria.

Gloria nodded. “So, basically, the next Salvia Moon will happen…not on the next Ebenveil but the other one.”

“Exactly,” Osara said. “So that’s in…” She angled her head upward as she calculated, “about forty four hours’ time.” 

Gloria sighed. She’d only experienced a few Salvia Moons since being enrolled at Beltraine. Each one was worse than the last. But although Salvia Moons were supposed to be fatal to vampires subjected to its glare, Gloria never felt as though her life was in danger on Salvia Moons. The worst that would happen was her scar would burn a bit, and she would be hit with waves of nausea. Faelina had theorized that it was the Mothers’ protection over Beltraine that had shielded Gloria from the more harmful effects of the Salvia Moon.  

“Have you recovered from the channeling, Gloria?” Osara asked.

“Not completely,” Gloria replied candidly. “Why?”

“I overheard Rowan speaking to Lystra on my way to the chapel. I think another Chain of Glory is planned. It might be as a drill, and not an actual vampire banishing. But I’m not really sure.”

Faelina yawned. “I’m going to bed ya’ll. Hope I can get a piece of Ebenveil’s dreamworld.” She swayed theatrically before falling beside Osara onto the bed.

Osara took this as her cue to leave. She rose hesitantly, glancing at Gloria, then back at Faelina.

“Did you know you people spend the most time with each other in your rooms out of all the room-mates?” Osara made her way to the door. “If I didn’t know better,” she continued, “I’d think…” Osara left the sentence hanging, before proceeding through the door.