A/N: Don't forget to review! :D I like to hear what you think about the story so far and ask questions about things you find were not explained well. What did you think was too unbelievable even in the magic realm... and so on. ;)

Chapter Twelve: Priestess

Severus Snape was kneeling at Jasna's collapsed form while the chanting continued and moved to the last part of the ritual. His fingers searched for a pulse for he was afraid the strain of wielding such powerful magic and the pain combined were simply too much for her heart. But her pulse was there – even if it was weaker than he would have liked. He could not imagine what kind of pain she was in, what the rising woman's magic in her at the prayer had done to the darkness infused inside her…

Severus closed his eyes and let out an inaudible sigh. Seeing such a fiery spirit broken left him with an urge to cry his heart out at the injustice of the world. To prolong her torment so was even crueler than to kill her. But not a tear escaped his eye, not a wrinkle in his brow betrayed his worry. To the world, Severus Snape appeared to have a heart made of stone, a soul black as the night, while his entire being cried out his despair and regret. He had no need for tears; he knew that to hope was foolish. He nodded to the Dark Lord that she was still alive and the immortal man smirked before continuing with the chant.

Why don't you help her? screamed Severus inside his soul for his lips could not be moved, neither words formed with his tongue. He was frozen beside her unmoving body as darkness swirled around their forms, burning his skin as it settled into the black tendrils. Why did you abandon her… he reproached the gods who seemed to have renounced their servant. Why don't you answer her call…?

As the last part of the chant rang out and he could feel tendrils of magic slip from him to her in order to chain her magic to his will, to corrupt her core through his own blackened and broken soul, he had to swallow down bile that was rising in his throat. How many will die when the Temple is lost? How many more will suffer under Voldemort? he asked bitterly, but there was no answer neither a sign she would wake up from whatever had her bound in its grasp while the runes kept siphoning magic from the air. An unbidden prayer of his own rose up for the woman lying in his arms.

Jasna was lost inside the magic she had called forth, lost inside the warring currents inside her body. She could not move, could not control what happened anymore – her strength was utterly spent. At the same time she felt the chains sink inside, get a hold of her, but she was powerless to stop it, powerless to do what she wanted to do the most. There was no escaping her fate anymore. It was done. It had been a good fight, but she had to admit she was the defeated one and the Death Eaters the winning side.

Tears wanted to gather in her eyes, but she could not control even this; could not cry and let her sorrow show, could not scream in despair and horror. Was there really nothing more to be done? Was this the limit of her powers over which she could not go? Would even her own body betray her like magic seemed to abandon her when she needed it the most? Was she unworthy of calling to the goddess?

Please… she pleaded inside her mind, crying tearless tears. Please… please protect your servant. Protect your daughter; don't let me be lost to the darkness.

Jasna could not even sense what was happening in the room and that made her more afraid than ever. How many horrors she had seen and experienced in the last days, she could hardly keep count. She did not understand why this happened to her, why it was she who got trapped. Was she to be punished for something she or her family had done? But her mother had given her to the Temple as a child – she had no family outside its walls anymore, not for a very long time.

The priestess could feel only pain as foreign malicious magic twined around her body, around her magic. It tried to enslave her, tried to rob her of the one thing left – her own will and integrity. Again her silent and desperate cry for help rang out. She clung to her beliefs, to the memory of the benevolent power she felt as she had been accepted into the sisterhood and hoped with all her troubled and torn heart to get control of her body, to fight.

Don't let me become their weapon to destroy you! I won't be a traitor, cried Jasna inside her mind, somehow finding among the confusion reigning inside her the spark of rage, the fighting spirit which caused her trouble before coming to the Temple. Perun! Morana and Danica! Oh ye old gods of magic and power! Guide me, save me…

But there seemed to be no answer back. There was no comforting touch of pure magic settling upon her soul, only darkness she had learned to remove and change. The male powers threatened to suffocate her and when it seemed all was lost, Jasna started to pray for release, for death. If that was what it took to keep the secrets, to save her soul from committing dark acts under their thumb, so be it. But then a dark strand appeared that was different from others twining around her. The strand was cloaked in darkness but inside it a lone hair of light lingered.

With a strange feeling inside her heart she reached for it; touched the tendril of foreign power that twined around her gently and called to her to do the same, to let it guide her. She could also hear a muted summon to submit to its will, but it was drowned out by the message of that lone hair of magic. It wanted to protect her, give her freedom. Jasna smiled inside her soul at the proffered helping hand. Slowly a glowing strand of her own power moved outside her body and touched the magic of the one who wished to protect her. She knew somewhere deep inside her that what she had just done was not what her enemy intended, but the old marriage ritual always favoured women since it was priestesses who performed them and not men. In a magical if not legal sense, she had married the dark wizard who had reached out to her, had bound his and her magic together.

Severus could feel something soft and strong at the same time reach inside him, inside his magic. It was a strange feeling, similar yet different from the magic that bound him to service in the ranks of the Dark Lord, similar yet different from the Unbreakable Vow. He opened his eyes and looked down at the witch in his arms. Her eyelashes fluttered as if she were waking up…

It was then that she grabbed his magic with all her might and he had to suck in his breath sharply at the sensation – fingers of iron held his power in grasp and he knew she was capable of destroying him, saw in the fire that burned in her unfocused but open eyes that she was prepared to destroy each and everyone in the room. He knew she was capable of doing this. But Jasna was no Dark Lord and would not abuse her powers if there was another way to get out of the situation. The two strands connecting them got only stronger and he could feel she did not object the union, the alliance magic strengthened for them.

As her eyes cleared, awareness making them shine again with that defiant light, he realised she was searching inside him, trying to find out more about the wizard bound with her. His secrets were protected, but he could not hide his loyalties – she was aware of his betrayal of Voldemort.

The runes flared to life again, this time not interfering with the magic released. Jasna was twisting the strands, taking his power and he was awed at the focus she had even with his magic. It seemed that the connection he felt growing between them helped settle her erratic magic. Grudgingly, he had to admit Voldemort knew what he was doing even when he went about it in the most painful manner.

Suddenly a breeze swept inside their circle, moving from his position outwards and into the room. It fluttered at their long white robes gently before moving in all directions, snuffing out one candle after another until only a few were left. The chant broke apart as wizards tried to keep their parchments steady in the wind, tried to see in the almost completely dark room. Only one more stanza, only one more, was left to complete the ritual.

Severus' eyes were still locked with hers. He did not care about the Dark Lord; his focus was on the small beaten but still not broken woman that brimmed with power she carefully extracted from him without any protest on his side. Severus felt an unmistakable feeling of glee and spitefulness as he sensed Jasna change the strands binding them together; manipulate the magical intent in the air and runes. She would not be his slave, would not be bound to Voldemort and dark magic. She would do her best to protect the Temple and her life. It was all he desired – to be kept out of this business after the ritual was done.

'Thank you…' she whispered inside his mind. 'Will you help me finish the bond, clean the evidence?'

'Yes,' was his reply. Together they will call upon the entity, hoping that her presence in the room would explain the changes in the bond. Severus was not entirely sure how it had formed, was in fact convinced it was impossible his magic would have woken her up, but so it seemed to have happened. A small suspicion formed in his mind and combining the things he felt and saw in her presence with his dreams he was sure there were more powers at work than he was aware of.

They would pretend that the ritual succeeded in some measure and the Dark Lord would be satisfied with Severus for a very long time changes notwithstanding.

The last word of the ritual rang out and the dark wizards lowered their arms, the magic crackling in the air settling into Severus and Jasna, "Corruptus in extremis… (Corrupt to the extreme)" said Voldemort and the last candles went out in a powerful gush of wind that ruffled their black robes.