Chapter 2 The Coven's Decree

 

The moon hung heavy and full, casting a silvery glow over the ancient woods that whispered secrets of forgotten time. Zalindra, wrapped in a cloak of midnight blue, approached the hidden path that wound its way to the heart of the Coven of Eldridge — her sanctuary since childhood and now, the orchestrator of a future she hadn't chosen.

The grand entrance to the coven's meeting hall loomed before her, its towering oak doors etched with runes and guarded by two silent sentinels — statues of entwined serpents, eyes of obsidian glinting in the moonlight. As she stepped forward, the sentinels seemed to stir, acknowledging her presence with a silent nod of stone as the doors whispered open.

Inside, the hall was alive with the glow of candlelight. Shadows danced across walls adorned with tapestries capturing the coven's storied past — battles fought, alliances formed, and mystical rites conducted under the gaze of celestial patrons. At the far end, the High Council of Eldridge sat poised on their dais, cloaked figures whose faces were hidden beneath their hoods.

Zalindra walked with measured grace towards them, her heart a symphony of nerves and defiance. She could feel the eyes of her sisters upon her, a circle of witches surrounding her — some friends, others rivals, all bound together by fate and destiny.

"Zalindra," echoed the voice of the High Priestess, her presence commanding yet serene. The hem of her robe shimmered like starlight as she rose, extending a hand towards Zalindra. "You stand before us on the eve of renewal and change."

As if summoned by unseen forces, a gentle wind spiraled through the hall, carrying the scent of lavender and sage. Zalindra looked into the eyes of the High Priestess, seeing reflections of wisdom and a hint of what she had long suspected — a sorrow known too well through centuries of sacrifice. Zalindra’s stomach tightened with the thought that one day, she too would bear that look of sorrow. Why did it still have to be this way, she thought to herself.  But, knowing the reasons why were not enough and didn’t change anything. The High Priestess spoke again, drawing Zalindra away from her thoughts and back to the ceremony.

"The time has come for you to fulfill an ancient oath, woven into the very fabric of our existence," the High Priestess continued. "You are to marry, not out of mere tradition, but as a tether and shield for our coven's power."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, words unspoken but understood. Zalindra took a deep breath, steadying herself against the swell of emotion within. "I do not understand why it must be me," she said, her voice steady, yet tinged with the edge of frustration. "Why must love and magic be intertwined with obligation?"

A younger witch, her face aglow with the fire of idealism, stepped forward from the circle. "Because you are the chosen bearer of the Sapphire Flame," she declared, her eyes alight with fervor. "Only through this union can we ensure its strength and continuity. Without you, its light may flicker and fade."

Easy for any of them to say as they were not the ones tasked with this weight.

Zalindra caught a glimpse of her reflection in a nearby chalice, the ghostly outline of a flame flickering gently within her eyes — the mark of her lineage, the burden she bore. An ancient power, unpredictable and rare, the Sapphire Flame was both a blessing and a curse. To marry would mean binding it — and her life — with another, to safeguard not just herself but all those around her. Once bound, the power would become something more.  The strength of the bond only made the power stronger.  In the past, the bonds took a very long time to grow because these marriages were arranged and bonds were not created quickly. Zalindra, shuddered at the thought of marrying someone she did not love. These unions were not like the political ones from long ago. This was about real magic and power.  The wrong bond could destroy the coven just as easily as it good benefit them. They don’t ever think of that part though. Because eventually, a bond was always found.  Zalindra did not want to spell her husband.  She wanted the bond to be natural and full of passion. She knew this was their way and she would do anything to protect and defend the coven. So, she took a deep breath and steadied her thoughts. In that moment, a seed was planted.

"We do not ask this lightly," the High Priestess said, her voice softening into a rare moment of vulnerability. "The sacrifice is great, but so too is the reward. Through this bond, the coven will flourish, and you will grow into the legacy you were meant to embrace."

Silence settled over the hall, a heavy blanket softened by mutual understanding. Zalindra lowered her eyes, contemplating the path laid before her, feeling the weight of history and responsibility upon her shoulders. To deny this was to defy destiny.

She turned to face the gathered witches, their faces a mix of sympathy, respect, and expectation. Hidden within their collective gaze, she found not just fear, but hope — a hope she could carry and shape into something wondrous.

"I understand," Zalindra finally spoke, her voice resonating with newfound determination. "Let it be as decreed. I will marry, for the sake of our power and the everlasting light of the Sapphire Flame."

A collective sigh, a release of tension held tight, swept through the hall. The High Priestess nodded her approval, a small, knowing smile playing upon her lips. "Then let us prepare for the ceremony of binding, and may the stars bless your union."

As the witches began their chants, a melody rising with ancient harmony, Zalindra stood resolute amidst the swirling currents. She had chosen her path, and now she would walk it with courage and strength — as a guardian of her coven, and as the keeper of the Sapphire Flame.

Zalindra decided in that moment, that she would be the final sacrifice for the coven. She would use her power and position to change things within the coven.  The reality was, if they stayed with these archaic ways, they would fall.