“I will speak with Orion about this matter,” Titus said. “Now please leave my office.”
Chapter 6
Desdemona ripped open the letter from her family and read the hand-written contents. Her father said that everything was fine back at the compound and that the children missed her. Everyone hoped that she would find her match and be happy. He reminded her to contact them as soon as she relocated.
The letter also included several drawings from the children. Desdemona looked through the crayon and watercolor artwork and frowned. Even after months at the temple, she still resented that her father had forced her to come here. She was learning more magic every day and had learned a lot about her music. It was beyond anything she could have imagined back at the compound. But despite all the things she was learning, it came at a heavy price.
Last month, she had been chosen for the mating ritual. She was presented to a hundred different men, vying for her attention. She’d had many offers, but had refused them all, knowing that she had one chance to say no.
Those were the rules of the temple. Each month six women were chosen at “random” from a hat to be part of the mating ritual. She had one chance to say no, and she’d taken it just last month.
She hoped it would buy her some time. There were women at the temple like Bridget who had not been in a single rotation for years. The choosing hat was enchanted so that only women who were in some way destined by probability to find a suitable match would be drawn upon. But when Desdemona had met the many men who’d come to the temple to win her hand, she hadn’t been impressed.
It wasn’t that the immortals weren’t attractive. Far from it. They were godlike in their beauty and grace. So much so, it creeped her the fuck out. Who were these people anyway?
Everything she’d learned in the temple’s computers and from her classes in ancient Earth history told her a story that had never been told before. A hundred thousand years ago, the Elder Godfathers had come to the planet and created the three immortal races with the Earth Goddess Gama. Or so they said.
Desdemona wasn’t sure what she should be angrier about. The fact that she had been lied to all her life, or that she could be being lied to now. She decided she didn’t believe any of the stories. Even though she had been having strange dreams since the first day she had discovered her magic.
The dream had been of two men. One was a dragon and one was a vampire. She knew them both well. But it was the dragon she wanted. He was a distant, sometimes cold man. But the vampire had been her friend and treated her like one. He loved her, but she just didn’t love him back.
She knew it was all just a dream, right? She’d been taught at the temple that she was an ancient witch who had been reincarnating again and again in a human body for the last two thousand years.
Yeah right.
It all sounded so silly, like some teen paranormal romance movie. But the dreams she was having didn’t lie. She’d had them since the first day she discovered her magic. Every time, she dreamed of the same two men. The dragon with silver-blue eyes and the vampire with the wicked grin.
She didn’t want either of them.
The temple would allow her to leave at any time. They just couldn’t give her more than a few supplies and a gun, which was pretty nice of them when she thought about it.
She’d been training at the temple for three months and had discovered there were many different types of magic. Arch-Priestess Lucia was an Arcane mage. She could gather arcane power inside her body and then use it as direct weaponized energy. It could also be used for healing.
There were witches who worked with water, and witches who worked with the earth. Desdemona used music for her magic, which was rare. She’d learned it was a very specific form of air magic. She’d even started to learn how to use just her voice to control the magic.
While she did enjoy her training, the ever-present awareness that she could be expected to marry some man at the next mating ritual hung heavily over her head. It was like a noose around her neck. The anxiety constantly gnawed at the pit of her stomach. Desdemona was a young woman, and she considered herself to be brave and strong. But she wasn’t sure which would require more bravery: facing the dangerous immortals alone, or being married to one.
Her few months of training had already offered her an insight into the depths of her true power. The witches of the world were at a distinct disadvantage since they were just reawakening to their own magic and immortality.
The vampires and dragons of the world had been alive for thousands of years. Even without their magic during the veil, the immortals hadn’t been left without some of their supernatural ability. Their immortal beauty and intelligence made it possible for them to mesmerize and manipulate humans with ease. The immortals had spent the entire duration of the veil using their advanced technology and reaping the monetary benefits of their superior understanding of the world.
The witches wielded raw magical power far stronger than the natural supernatural abilities of the other immortals. Both vampires and dragons had the ability to use other simple forms of magic.
It was the witches who drew their power directly from the endless void. But the women had no history, no understanding, no training. It was said that the witches were the most powerful immortals on Earth before the veil. They were the only ones powerful enough to cast the veil over magic. But it had required them all sacrificing their lives.
That’s what she’d learned at the temple anyway. Desdemona was still not convinced. This Gama lady sounded like a real bitch to her. Who would ask an entire race of women to sacrifice themselves to punish a bunch of men? It seemed completely unfair.
None of it seemed fair. Why did the witches have to die? And what had happened to these Elder God people who’d started all this business in the first place?
The more she searched for answers the less she understood. There were many stories about what had happened to the other Gods. Some people said they went to the center of the Earth where they still lived in their immortality. And the others said that the Gods, Tartarus, Diraki, and even Gama, had left the planet two thousand years ago.
The more she thought of it the more it upset her. Desdemona took a seat by the pond on the south facing side of the fortress. The air had turned cold and light snow fell softly on the deep green bushes around her. She’d dressed in a long black wool coat, a knit hat, thick leggings under her winter robe and insulated leather boots.
She held her guitar and played a few notes. Flakes of snow slowly danced around her. She strummed her strings and the gathering snowflakes went dancing across the water. As she played, she sent them flying. She closed her eyes and felt the tide of magic spiral through her from the air all around, cycling out through the vibration of her strings and back into the air again.
“Desdemona.”
Her hands stopped the strings and she looked behind her to find her tutor, Bridget standing at the edge of the clearing. She wore a long green coat with a pair of velvet leggings beneath. Her red curly hair was tied back in a braid and her green eyes glinted in the low sunlight.
“What is it?”
“It is time for the drawing for the mating ritual,” she said.
Desdemona didn’t reply. She gripped the neck of her guitar and stood. She’d worn a long black coat over her white robe. The hem brushed over the damp ground. The clearing had turned brown as the cool chill of winter descended over the coastal mountains.
She followed Bridget down the path through the dormant gardens and into the main dining room. The witches were gathered in the banquet hall for the choosing ceremony.
The folding chairs had been set for the monthly rotation of the choosing hat. Desdemona walked in and took a seat in a row near the back and crossed her arms over her chest. She was still wearing her coat and felt the warmth of the heater burn against the chill on her face. She pulled out of her coat and flung it over the back of her chair, feeling irritable and wanting this all to be over with.
Orion Silverdrake stood beside her. Lucia looked out at the women sitting in the folding chairs before her. She smiled and nodded.
“Sisters, today we choose the women who will attend the mating ritual tomorrow. Each of you knows it is a random assignment decided by the choosing hat. If you are chosen today, then there is an extremely high probability your best match will be at the mating ritual tomorrow. However, if you choose to leave the temple, we ask that you do so as soon as possible so we may replace your name with an additional witch for the offering.”
Lucia’s words burned in Desdemona’s brain. She didn’t know if she could stay or go. Her heart raced in her chest as Lucia reached into the choosing hat for the first time. She drew out a piece of paper and read the name. It was Sarah. She giggled and cheered, clearly overjoyed to have been chosen. Desdemona rolled her eyes.
The next name that was chosen was Maxine. She seemed less overjoyed than Sarah, but didn’t stand up and say she wanted to go. A woman had done that last month. Desdemona had watched her walk away out of the gate alone. It had been the woman’s second rotation.
Three more women were named. There was only one choice left for the month and Desdemona bit her lip as Lucia reached into the choosing hat. The Arch-Priestess drew out the last piece of paper and read the name written on it. As the syllables came out of Lucia’s lips, Desdemona couldn’t believe what she heard. Cold heat flushed from every pore as Lucia said her name. This was her second rotation. She had to choose a husband or leave.
Lucia looked up at her expectantly, but Desdemona sat stunned in her chair. Everyone knew Desdemona didn’t want to be there. Everyone probably expected her to leave. That fact alone almost made her want to stay just to prove them wrong. Aside from that she wasn’t sure if she was ready to brave the world on her own either. She’d learned a great deal in her three months at the temple. But the few times she’d seen Orion shift into his massive dragon form, the thought of battling one made her shudder. She was so overwhelmed she couldn’t speak or breathe, let alone make a decision.
Instead she just sat there like an idiot and waited while Lucia completed the ceremony and excused everyone from the dining hall. Desdemona stood as the Goudy servants entered the hall and began moving in the tables for the evening meal. Desdemona didn’t know what to do or what to think. She didn’t even notice when Bridget came up to stand beside her.
“Are you going to be okay?” her tutor asked.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“It must be a shock to be chosen twice in a row.”
“A shock? Yeah, it’s a shock. I’m not sure if I should be packing or what. Wait a minute. I should be packing no matter what.”
“We have made so many successful matches at the temple. Not a single one of the witches is unhappy with the males they have been mated with. I know that you will find the right one for you. I’ve done some research into your background. There are a few ancient witches who I think could be you. We all looked different back then but in some ways the same. And if you are who I think you are, the men you knew in the old world were powerful and strong.”
“I don’t really believe any of that shit, honestly. It could all be lies as far as I’m concerned.”
“But you are a wielder of magic. How could you possibly doubt the ancient histories?”
“Just because I can do magic doesn’t mean that any of those stories are true.”
“I understand why you could think that,” Bridget said. “But I don’t think your lack of belief in the ancient histories is going to do you any good in the future.”
“What will do me good in the future?”
“The best thing for you to do is concentrate on learning as much magic as you can and finding the right match. The sooner you accept your fate, the easier it will be for you in the end.”
“I’ve heard the same words a thousand times. To be honest, I’m tired of hearing it.”
“Have you not had any memories of your past?” Bridget asked her.
“I’ve had strange dreams that seem like memories. For all I knew it could be a spell.”
“I assure you, those dreams are not spells. I never had a chance to marry in the past though I was several hundred years old when I died. You are lucky to have had a connection with someone.”
“It hasn’t done me any good. In this dream, there are two men. I’ve never seen either of them before. I didn’t want to marry either of them in my dream.”
“Why?” Bridget asked.
“Because they both seemed like assholes.”
“I understand,” said Bridget. “But it is best to rest before tomorrow. It will be the day you choose your mate or the day you choose your fate outside the walls of the fortress.”
Desdemona frowned.
“Choose wisely, young Desdemona,” Bridget said, leaving the younger witch to contemplate her choices.
The next morning, Desdemona woke up early, fully prepared to leave the temple with a single suitcase, her guitar, and the temple-provided pistol as her only protection, aside from her fledgling magic. But instead of climbing out of bed to hurry off into the dark cold wilderness, she lay in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling.
By the time the sun rose and the other witches were making their way out of their rooms to the main dining room on the first level of the mansion, Desdemona still hadn’t come to a firm decision about what to do. She had been asked the day before to leave the Temple immediately if she chose not to participate in the mating ritual, but she still hadn’t been able to make up her mind.
As she washed and dressed and prepared for the day, she still hadn’t made a firm decision about what to do next. The last thing in the world she wanted was to be married off to some strange immortal man who just wanted to impregnate her with his heir. But at the same time, it was the middle of winter in the middle of nowhere.
Her choices were not true choices. Not in the sense they would have been before the Dark Sun. Back then, she could have chosen to go to college, get a job, go to trade school, get married, travel the world, or drop out of society and become a vagrant or a drug addict. She could even travel to Hollywood and try to become a star.
Those were choices. But what Desdemona had now were not choices. One option was just as bad as the other. What she had was two options that were forced upon her. In reality, she was more of a slave than a free woman, despite her magic and the supposed sacredness of her immortal womb.
Unlike many of the other witches in the temple, she did not feel any pride in the immortal womb that she carried inside her. She resented it beyond anything she’d ever resented before, perhaps even including the Dark Sun.
As she entered the dining hall and carried her tray down the buffet line, filling her plate with breakfast food, her mind raced with dark thoughts. She imagined standing up in front of the entire congregation of immortals and temple guardians and telling them all off.
When she sat down at the table next to several of the young witches who had recently arrived, the scenario she played over in her mind made her giggle inwardly. The witch sitting beside her looked at Desdemona with a questioning expression. Desdemona shrugged and shoved a piece of toast in her mouth.
The immortal men would be arriving soon and she still hadn’t decided what to do. Perhaps the best course of action would be to see what kind of men came to the meeting. Maybe she could find a good one. That was always a possibility, she supposed.
No matter how tall and handsome and rich they all were, she remained unimpressed. Their godly good looks turned her off. In the temple she was the strange one. Most the wit
ches seemed to be dying of love for the immortals. It was like they were teenage girls crushing on rock stars.
After breakfast, Desdemona went back up to her room and packed her things. She would attend the mating ritual, but if she couldn’t find a decent guy, then she would leave.
By noon, the immortals’ vessels began to arrive at the temple. Desdemona watched them from her third story window as the men gathered at the ritual space behind the mansion. It was constructed of megalithic stones built by the magic of the witches themselves. Desdemona had attended many noonday sun rituals and lunar cycle rituals inside the circle of crystalline stones. She knew the power of the space.
So many immortal males arrived every time. They were still mostly the Alpha dragons and Kings of covens. She’d heard they made agreements between themselves on who could come here. For her, it made no difference.
She looked at herself in the mirror and frowned. She grabbed her brush and ran it through her long black hair, feeling irritated that she wanted to look good for these people. What difference did it even make? They would want her even if she were ugly. The fact that she was young and beautiful and still a virgin would make no difference. All these men wanted was a baby so they could ensure their strength against other immortals.
Desdemona knew that it was important to protect the world from the Surge, but she didn’t believe that witches should be sacrificed in order to accomplish that, just like they had two thousand years ago. It was like the sacrifice to cast the veil was all still happening today.
As she prepared herself to leave the room, she considered once again leaving the temple for good. But as she stared at her guitar case and her sad little suitcase filled with warm clothes from the temple, she realized that leaving now would surely be a mistake. One of those males would find her anyway and take her as his bride. And without the protection of the temple, that immortal male could do anything he pleased to her.
The agreement the immortals made with the temple was that they would treat each witch well.
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