End of Innocence
It was a cold, circular room that bore little in the way of furnishings; five pillars, five Council members, forming the shape of a pentangle and in the centre, a dais upon which she stood tall and proud, her pale blond hair sparkling gold against the sunset as it streamed in through the glass dome above and framing her alabaster face. She looked angelic, serene in her flowing white dress, a thin band of purple roses encircling her head, a symbol of her status. The serenity was, however, misleading. Every fibre in her body vibrated with a deep fury, the metallic taste of anger hanging heavy in the stony silence of the room. Five pillars, five Council members standing perfectly still, hands clasped, eyes down.
It was customary for her, as Queen of their clan, to issue judgment. It was customary for the five Council members to first speak their minds.
It was a custom none wished to observe tonight.
She had stood here in judgement more times than she could count. Certainly, in the aftermath of the war, in the wake of the blood shed, she had sentenced countless witches for crimes deemed unforgivable. This time, however, was different. As the first flake of snow fell from the crisp winter sky and settled on the glass dome overhead, she spoke, the sound of her voice so dangerous and low so as to make those gathered wince.
"You have been warned," her eyes glittered with a barely restrained fury, silencing any protest before it had the chance to form amongst those assembled, "you have been warned a thousand times. I have given you every opportunity to demonstrate that this childish insolence and arrogant tendency to flaunt the rules is merely a phase but this time you have gone too far. You leave me no choice."
Icy silver blue eyes flashed with fury as her gaze clashed with that of the defiant child standing before her. Whilst others, grown wizards and witches cowered in her presence, this mere slip of a girl met her gaze, seemingly immune to her terrifying temper. Therein lay the crux of the problem, she realised. She could rant and rave, threaten and shout but nothing, nothing, deterred this blasted child from the path of mayhem and destruction that she had embarked upon. Oh, yes, she could see the future all too clearly; the heartache that would arise if the child wasn't brought into line and quickly, but she was powerless to alter the child's course.
How many times had she let this rebellious child off with little more than a scolding? There had never truly been any consequences for the pandemonium she had caused over the last three years. No, every time she had reached her limit, someone had intervened. One of her group of friends, one of the teachers, the headmistress herself on more than occasion, even the Council itself had defended this child; there had always been a tendency towards leniency.
If there was one thing she had learned it was that the child knew how to play the game, feign innocence. An innocence that the child could no longer claim. Not after last night's events. Now, what was required of the child was remorse but if the child's haughty glare was anything to go by, remorse wouldn't be forth coming any time too soon. Now, standing ram rod straight, angry lilac sparks jumping from her fingers, she wondered why she had ever thought the child would approach tonight's proceedings with anything other than her usual debonair indifference. She could have sworn the child had the audacity to shrug her shoulders slightly and it left her incandescent with rage.
"I trust you realise," she continued icily, "that what you have done carries a punishment of being stripped of your magical powers, ex-communicated forever."
It was slight but she saw it; the brief flash of panic in the child's eyes, the hiss of breath through gritted teeth before the girl once more regained her composure and squared her shoulders. Standing tall and proud in her immaculate white tunic with purple sash emblazoned with the school crest, her ebony hair snaking down her back in a thick plait, the child looked every inch the elegant young witch that Avalon Academy, the finest witching school in Europe, strived to produce; powerful, well trained witches who would become future Council members, future clan Queens, future successes.
In that instant, her anger evaporated as a deep sorrow welded up within her. What dreams she had once harboured for her only daughter. The greatness she would achieve at Excelsior next term. Dashed, all dashed in that one moment of weakness, that one moment of unforgivable stupidity. Around her wrist, her daughter wore the thin bracelet of purple roses, a sign of her noble blood, of a future that would no longer be hers.
"Had you not been a minor, my hands would have been tied. There would have been nothing that I could have done to save you. As it is, I have assured the Council that you will be punished most severely and will pay for your crime in other ways."
"Yes, My Lady," her daughter's voice was stiff, devoid of all emotion.
"As of this moment you are withdrawn from Avalon Academy. You shall not complete your fourth year nor shall you go on to attend Excelsior as planned. For your crimes, you shall be sent to study under the supervision of Mistress Heckity Broomhead. Once your time there is complete, the Council of Witches will once more convene to determine whether or not to strip you of your powers. Only if they are satisfied that you are reformed shall they let you continue to practice magic. If you are to continue, the Council will expect not less than fifteen years' community service."
"Mother…." the cry came not from her daughter, who remained stoically indifferent but rather from her twin sons, unable to stay silent any longer. Xavier and Zander were at their sister's side in a heartbeat, identical faces mirroring a mixture of horror and dismay. "Please…."
"Gabe," Zander shot a reproachful look at their older brother, standing at his Mother's side, a poignant and fiery gaze quite out of character for her younger son that was far from lost on her. In turn, she narrowed her own eyes. The knot of fear in the pit of her stomach took hold once more. There was more to this than met the eye. "Say something!"
"Perhaps," Gabriel said evenly as she inclined her head slightly in her oldest child's direction, "it would be prudent to let Connie finish her schooling at Avalon, Mother. I can understand that you feel it unwise to let her attend Excelsior at the present time - she has demonstrated that she is far from ready to handle advanced magic. However, to withdraw her from the school will blight her future. I am sure that Connie is most apologetic for her mistakes and wishes to repay her debt not only to society and to the school, but to our family. She can carry out community service without being sent to an institution like Heckity Broomhead's."
"I am only too aware of the consequences of removing her, Gabriel, it is whether Constance is aware of the consequences that concerns me," she replied tersely.
"Connie, tell her!" Xavier's grip on his sister's arm tightened.
"Tell me what, child?" Lorelei's eyes bore into her daughter's like lasers. Around her, she felt the shiver of the electric charge in the room as the Council held its breath. A name. They needed a name.
"If the consequences of attending Avalon is to end up like you then I relish the opportunity to study elsewhere," her daughter snarled, jutting her jaw in defiance.
"Consequences!" Lorelei exploded, "you dare to talk to me about consequences! Do you realise….can you even begin to fathom the consequences of this decision? This sets a precedent – no longer can this Council simply strip a witch who betrays her clan of her powers. You have undermined my very authority, left us vulnerable to every witch with poor regard for the laws I lay down! Had you been anyone else's child….any other name…."
"Good, of that I'm glad," Connie advanced towards her Mother until she was at the foot of the dais "no longer can you use your powers to remove all who object to your interpretation of the rules. No longer can you deny a witch her heritage without just cause and cast iron evidence. No longer can you simply be a dictator, feared and loathed rather than respected!" Ripping the delicate bracelet of roses from her wrist, Connie held it high. "I do not want your protection. I do not need it. In front of this Council, I renounce my name."
The rage that she had been struggling to contain finally overwhelmed her, bubbling to the surface in a volcanic eruption. The slap reverberated around the marble walls and knocked the child to the cold, stone floor.
"Then so be it," the croak came from the pillar directly behind her, Elda Witton, one of the oldest and wisest members of the Council who had served far longer than even Lorelei herself, "for the duration of your punishment you shall be treated as nothing more than an ordinary witch. A commoner. Mistress Broomhead shall be informed that she is to receive, tonight, an orphan. For that is what you are now, child. You will be treated like any other of the wayward witches sent there. So be it, the Council has spoken."
Her twin boys, one on either side of their younger sister heaved her to her feet, clinging onto her as they stood rooted to the spot, left with no choice other than to watch in a muted horror as the intricate link of flowers lying on the ground flickered and burst into a hot, white flame. There it was, she supposed, proof incontrovertible that she had failed completely.
"Gabriel," she addressed her oldest son, the very image of his father as he stood silently by her side, already bearing the burden of taking up his father's mantle so young, "Gabriel, please escort your brothers back to Camelot."
"You really are the limit, Connie," Gabriel shook his head, emerald eyes swimming with a bitter disappointment before motioning for his brothers to follow. With a parting look, a mixture of horror and sorrow, the twins reluctantly nodded stiffly to their Mother and squeezed their sister's hand before following their brother from the room.
"We shall leave tonight," Lorelei told her, "go and wait in your dorm room."
"As you wish Mother," her daughter replied flatly before turning on her heel and stalking out of the chamber and into the gardens of her former, prestigious Academy, the golden door slamming shut behind her as she headed into the darkness.
"Was that really necessary?" Lorelei's growl reverberated around the marble walls. "How dare you act in such an impudent manner Elda! She is a child. My child! She did not mean it!"
"With the greatest respect, My Lady," Elda's reedy voice sliced through the palpable tension, "your love for the girl blinds you. A short, sharp, shock is exactly what is required if the child is to have any hope of reforming. We now have three reported incidents to the Council." Hooded tawny eyes searched Lorelei's face for the slightest sign that she was hiding something but her daughter was not the only one who could feign innocence when need be. "Yet you refuse to let us question the girl as to events that cumulated in the untimely death of Lord Tanus."
"And you may rest assured that consent will never be forth coming," Lorelei snarled grimly, "she was an infant. She saw nothing, she heard nothing."
"Again, with the greatest of respect, you claim not to have been there. The child was alone with her father. We do not know what she may have heard, what she may have seen, what she may have done."
It was like a knife to her heart. So sudden was the pain that for a dizzying moment she thought she might pass out there and then. Not trusting herself to speak, she dismissed the Council members with little more than a flick of her wrist, treating Elda to a particularly venomous look as the wizened old woman hobbled from the chamber. The final member to leave the chamber, her pretty almond eyes swimming with tears, chestnut hair hastily put up in a messy bun, paused by the dais, her lily white hand briefly squeezing Lorelei's own.
"There's another explanation, don't lose faith Lori," Verity Hemlock whispered. "Evil is not in their hearts. After all, I am the Headmistress of Avalon and Constance and the others were under my charge. I have to take my share of the responsibility."
"I won't hear of it Verity," Lorelei choked back the tears, composing herself, "this is my cross to bear."
Curtseying, Verity Hemlock left the chamber leaving Lady Lorelei Meriwether alone, engulfed in darkness.
Defiant. If there was one thing she would take to her grave it would be her daughter's defiant pout. With a flick of her hand, Lorelei cleared the room sending her daughter's belongings whizzing through the ether to their destination. Standing stiffly by her bed, the dorm room clear of all personal effects, Connie flicked her eyes briefly to her Mother before folding her arms in anticipation of being unceremoniously transported after her belongs.
"We'll go by broom," Lorelei announced as her own broom appeared in front of her, having heard her command. Her daughter opened her mouth to protest, to point out that her Mother had just sent her own broom along with all her other possessions on ahead to Broomhead's Academy but as she watched her Mother settle herself on the broom, Connie realised that her Mother had done so deliberately. Sighing audibly and jutting her jaw, Connie stalked over to join her Mother, snaking her cold arms around her Mother's waist. Without a word, Lorelei urged the broom on, out of the open window and into the night sky. Casting a final glance at the turrets of Avalon, as the island began to recede into the inky night sky, Lorelei could just make out the confused faces of Connie's friends crowded at one of the castle's windows below. Next to her, her daughter stared dead ahead into the darkness of the night, too proud to glance behind her at her former life, too afraid she would not be able to stop the tears that gathered and threatened to erupt.
In silence, they flew on, crossing the icy sea until they were once more over land and heading inward, towards the towns and villages. It had been years, Lorelei realised, since she had taken her daughter with her for a midnight broom ride. Perhaps if she had spent more time with the girl rather than fighting a war that she now realised was not, as she had previously thought, for her children's benefit, she wouldn't be flying through this dark and dismal winter's night to a school as far removed from Avalon as was possible.
For whilst Avalon was a school of enlightenment and reason, this place was little more than a prison for society's rejects. The unloved orphan, the unteachable, the wayward young witch.
A solitary harsh white light illuminated a ground floor window as soon as their feet touched the pebbled driveway, the dark and gloomy castle looming large in the darkness. Taking her daughter by the shoulders, Lorelei searched her face for the faintest sign of weakness, hoping against hope that she could penetrate the armour before it was too late.
"Connie," she whispered softly, "what happened, child? What is it that you're not telling me?"
Her daughter raised her coffee coloured eyes to meet her Mother's icy blue ones. It pierced her heart to see that the defiance and anger had dissolved leaving behind a gaze that was quietly mournful. Confirmation that she had indeed, as she had feared, given up on her daughter and the child knew it.
"I told you once before that I wasn't alone. You didn't believe me then. Why would you listen now?"
"Constance," her voice cracked, a rare, perhaps a first, display of heartbreak in front of one of her children.
"After all," Connie remarked cuttingly glaring at her Mother with disdain, "this is precisely what you want. For me to take responsibility. Accept the consequences."
Shrugging away her Mother's hand, Connie turned on her heel and headed up the driveway as the old, creaking wooden front door opened, so different from the golden gates of Avalon, the shadow of Heckity Broomhead looming large over the child. Standing alone in the darkness of the night, Lorelei did nothing to stop the icy tears that rolled down her alabaster cheeks as she watched the heavy wooden door slam shut once more as the clock struck two.
The Magic Hour, or so her husband had always told her.
The tenth anniversary of his death, struck down by dark magic, evil itself.
In that soul crushing moment, Lady Lorelei Meriwether realized that the cost of winning the war was far higher than she had ever dared imagine.
She knew this was only the beginning.
All was lost.