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Chapter Eleven: New Shackles
Severus Snape helped to light the candles that were placed on the floor in a shape of a pentagram with the circle of ink in the centre. He doubted a star was the appropriate shape for binding a priestess – they performed rituals in this fashion, the only difference being the number of points. And the star was a symbol of an old goddess, which he was sure Jasna knew and probably served as well.
As his eyes strayed to her kneeling form he had to note she truly looked like a priestess of old in the white robes and long dark hair that pooled around her. She seemed to pray and his eyes narrowed as a rune at his feet seemed to glow in a dark light. Did nobody notice this? Apparently not, so he lighted the last candle, obscuring the runes with his body in case the phenomena would appear again. It did not and it was time he returned to the Dark Lord again.
The room was darkened and only the candles gave off light which made the participants look like grotesque statues in their dark robes as they stood at the points of the star. Severus noted that only he and Jasna seemed to glow in the darkness, even the pale Dark Lord had melded with the shadows. He could feel anticipation in the air as the chosen four wizards moved to the points of the pentagram and he stood behind the kneeling priestess inside the circle. He could not but feel a shiver of apprehension run down his spine as he faced Britain's most dangerous wizards – being the centre of their attention really was not what he desired and too many alarm bells rang I his mind as they opened the scrolls given to them by the Dark Lord.
This is not the time to panic, he told himself and dutifully looked at is master for further instructions. He knew what had to be done, but the Dark Lord was not risking anything this time, so they had to wait for his order to do anything, even read out a word of the incantations and prayers.
Jasna stiffened. It was time - she had the runes under control, had secured their cooperation. Her eyes cleared but she felt absolutely sick with dizziness and the pain gnawing at her insides made her want to curl on the floor and groan her misery to the world. No time for this… call Her, call the goddess, she told herself and closed her eyes to block out the threatening sight of them having taken their positions. It would begin any time now! The sight of scrolls being opened made her shiver in dread for she knew very well she was bone tired already.
The first of the incantations rang out and it felt different this time, it felt even more sinister than before but that was only because she knew exactly how it should be, what it should command and say. It was the utter perversion of the white ritual that horrified her and she prayed with new fervour to the goddess Danica. She had chosen her deity the minute she saw the runes and donned the white garb. A female deity it had to be and the runes meant it would be one of the sky-sisters. So the one she called to was the goddess she felt most connected to – the Morning Star or Danica. The benevolent deity lighted the sky when it was the darkest and brought a new day with her sister Zorya. A goddess of new beginnings and of hope – she was exactly what she needed right now.
Jasna did not ask for salvation, did not ask for miracles, she only prayed for the goddess to look after her in her hour of need, to give her heart hope so she could gather her own strength and fight. She prayed for insight and for understanding. She prayed that none of her sisters would have to see this, to experience this…
The chanting was simultaneous, very well rehearsed and made with clear purpose in mind. It almost sounded as one of those chants the muggle monks used to participate in since most of it was in Latin. Such magic was difficult to defeat – even the numbers were on their side for she could hardly fight back so much male magic at once. She was used to balance, to harmony not chaos!
Magic poured from them, rushing at her own magical core like magic had done when she was bound to the Temple, when she had experienced one of the most beautiful and magical events of her life. When stars had felt like glowing orbs of cold light only a hand's width from her, when she could hear the hum of life inside the earth and feel connected to the endless circle of death and birth… Like when she felt her own magical core expand to welcome the touch of her deities, the touch of her friends. It had felt like her heart would burst from the love she felt coming from her brothers and sisters. She was able to show them how dear they were to her…
But this magic was dark, it was malicious – it destroyed but did not create from the fragments left behind the destruction. With tears in her eyes she fought back, but they managed to slam into her. A scream tore from her mouth and she felt his hand on her shoulder, felt him keep her down. His touch was the only thing she could feel beside the pain and the difference almost drove her mad.
She called to the runes and they caught the magic still rushing at her and bound it inside the pentagram, inside their own powers that lay dormant until called. The darkness was still there, but it did not attack, it could not reach her again until she decided what to do with it. This was what the runes did for her – give her a choice what to do with the magical intent suspended in the air. If one part of the incantation had not yet melded with her, had not yet gotten hold of her, she could have repelled it, but now she had to twist it again in the short time before the Dark Lord would realise something was wrong again. She had to do something to keep herself alive and to do damage at the same time.
But the pain, oh the pain! She could hardly think. The remnants of her bonds recognized the magical imprint and wanted to react to the corrupt force that would see her bound to the Dark Lord, see her obeying his commands… It was a struggle – she needed something to get rid of it, somewhere to push it…
Severus flinched inwardly as he felt the corrupt magic gather and rush at them. Yes, the majority was centred on Jasna, but one part meandered to him for he would be her caretaker, the one to share a part of the bonds that had yet to be evoked. She reacted even more violently and he had to grab her shoulder to steady her or she would have buckled and maybe even done herself an injury. As his hand settled on her, he could feel magic hum under her skin so violently, he was sure there was something she had already done. He could feel her fight back the corrupt magic, fight back and succeed to be free.
He was surprised and awed – she had managed it, she had truly managed to do something! Jasna was an ally they could have used many years ago; she thought and saw magic on an entirely different level than anyone besides Dumbledore. Nowhere he could detect any sign she had thwarted the first attempt of the Dark Lord, only the strong hum of magic she wielded betrayed that something was cast back. It was ingenious!
It was then that something slammed into him and he had to suck in his breath to fight back a vocal reaction. It came from her! He could feel how something came from her, travelled up his hand and inside his magical core – he shuddered but controlled his face. She had done something, she had moved from simply protecting herself to attacking back! His dark eyes looked sharply at her as she shuddered and seemed to loose her wits. Severus dug his fingers into her shoulder to bring her back – to wake her up. It was too dangerous to loose consciousness now!
The Death Eaters had already moved to the second part of the ritual that manifested in dark tendrils. They shot at them and stained their white garb when they started to coil around their limbs. It seemed they concentrated on their arms and in Severus' case to the arm sporting a Dark Mark. But with her it seemed the Dark Lord wanted to remind her every minute she belonged to him for they took on a form of dark bracelets. A searing sensation made both of them grit their teeth as the tendrils seemed to sink into their skin, making it take on an unhealthy red glow.
Jasna screamed as her magic lashed out at the new shackles, but new tendrils shot to Severus and from him to Voldemort. It was in this moment that she spoke up for she could not break this alone. A prayer and commands in the old ways was heard – she was speaking in the old temple technique; her words seemed to originate deep inside her torso, somewhere in her throat and rolled of her tongue in a magnificent accent that just brimmed with control. It was almost like listening to grumbling than to a prayer. But then her register changed abruptly and the high tones sung in the ways of Altaic cultures rang out.
The words of ancient power made the hairs on everyone's necks stand up. The voice was deep and brimming with that special command over magic only true priestesses could have. The powerful display was accented by the flaring of the runes which renounced the original casters and joined her. She called to her deities and they knew her call would be answered.
Voldemort was furious but still not defeated – they continued the chant with renewed intensity, moving to the last part that could bind her magic to Severus, thus ending her little chant. But nobody counted on what happened next.
Jasna slumped on the ground, her eyes rolling backwards to expose the whites. Severus threw himself on the knees, checking her pulse, frantically trying to help her – she was so close! She could not let Voldemort finish this; she had to control the magic now! As seconds ticked by the runes lost their glow and the chains being generated by the Dark Lord thickened and started to sink inside her skin.