For the first time since the beginning of the year, Susan was excited about learning history. Before Hogwarts, she had always enjoyed reading about great mages, merlins, and how the past had shaped the present. By the time she got to Hogwarts, she had hoped to start really learning about world history, more than what her few readings as a little girl and what her mo... aunt had told her. But in the first class with Bins, all her hopes were dashed. Having her study a book written in Latin would have been more instructive than an hour in the company of the ghost. Especially since after each of those horrible classes she felt tired, drained of all desire to learn.
So, when Bins had finally disappeared, she only felt joy and great relief. That blessed day had only become better when Aster had offered to start a history club. She was not sure how exactly this would work, but she had supported Aster enthusiastically. The whole dormitory had formed a coalition around the club, with Hannah, Sophia and Leane joining immediately. The boys were unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your point of view) not interested at all. In the upper years, only Tonks, had joined them, declaring her presence essential to prevent their club from 'going off the rails' whatever that meant. The other houses, although Aster tried to recruit, didn't seem to be interested either, after all, what was a club of hufflepuffs worth? The Ravenclaws had looked at them with disdain, the Slytherins with contempt and the Gryffindors were just horrified at the idea of 'wasting' their 'free time' on work. Theodorus Nott had given the impression for a moment that he wanted to join them, but Susan supposed that staying in the good graces of the other Slytherins was more important to him than joining their club.
Only Longbottom decided to join, although being in an all-girls group seemed to make the poor boy terribly anxious, which amused her, Hannah and Sophia. Leane, Hermione and Aster didn't even seem to realise why the boy was so shy. How could such brilliant people be so oblivious? It was completely beyond her.
Unsurprisingly, Professor Sprout had happily supported their initiative, even offering to be the referent of their club, providing them with a dedicated room not far from the common room. It was a small, comfortable room, with various rugs, armchairs and sofas upholstered in Hufflepuff colours. A large fireplace seemed to bathe the room eternally in a soft, warmth, and two large windows opened on the black lake, only a meter or two above the water.
Two days earlier, the first meeting of the club had taken place, and Professor Sprout had even been present. Together they had established the rules and objectives of the club. The club would be held two or three times a week, depending on everyone's availability, often in the evenings after school and on weekends. They would work on the first year history syllabus together, with Aster offering to bring in some of the history books not in the library or copies of those available and put them on a large shelf for everyone to use. In addition to doing the normal history curriculum, Aster explained that her mother being a history buff, she had a lot of excellent information to present to them, and that if they ever had a question about anything, she was sure to be able to enlighten them at least a little.
With that alone, Susan would have been happy, but Professor Sprout also allowed them to go through the kitchens if they wanted to have a snack in their club room, on the condition that they did not abuse the privilege and kept their room clean, as it fell under the rules of the Hufflepuff house, no house elf would come and clean it for them. Finally, Aster, thanks to the skilful use of her perfectly controlled kitten eyes, managed to get Professor Sprout's agreement for potential historical outings, on the condition that she was warned in advance and that an adult accompanied them. This first session was concluded in this way, as they only had a few minutes left before curfew.
Two days later, she and Hannah were standing at the door of the room, Hannah with a tray containing eight cups of hot chocolate, charmed not to get cold and refilled on their own, and two bowls of biscuits in her arms. To say that Susan was excited would have been a gross understatement of her current mood. She loved Aster, she loved history, she loved her friends, the comfy chairs and the hot chocolate. How could this evening be anything less than perfect?
With Hannah's hands full, Susan pushed open the door. She couldn't help but smile. Everyone was already there, reading, taking notes from the book, or chatting in low voices. The very image of a study group. The sound of their entrance was not noticed, but the smell of hot chocolate was, given the loud ovation that followed. Poor Hannah was scarlet with shyness, not knowing how to react to so much belly appreciation directed at her.
Soon everyone was armed with a mug of hot chocolate, Susan and Hannah both sitting side by side on one of the sofas, their book in their lap. Aster had provided them with a more recent edition of the ICW first year history book the day before. Since there was no longer a teacher to determine what they should learn, it was better that they used the international standard. (At least that's what Hermione had explained.) So they were reading with interest the first few chapters of a textbook entitled: "European Antiquity, Empires, Wars and Primitive Magics. By a certain Alloïs de Berlemont. Come to think of it, studying antiquity first made a lot more sense than learning about the history of the last Goblin revolts from the obviously biased point of view of a ghost using a book that was more than a century old. After all, how can you properly understand recent history without knowing its origins?
It was kind of nice to study in a group, especially when said study material turned out to be several leagues better than what she got before. Seriously, Susan didn't know whether to be frightened or fascinated to learn that charybdis and scylla were real, hopefully hidden under powerful wards today. Flipping through the book, she had later come across the fact that the Roman Empire had only expanded so much thanks to several covens of wizards directly under the emperor, these maintaining continental scale wards on the borders of the empire. Hannah was in the same state of fascination as she was, while Leane and Sophia were apparently chatting in hushed tones, comparing the wizard Tyrant Nero's reign to the one of You-Know-Who. This made her look up from the book to listen. From what Aster was saying, it was a difficult comparison, Nero hadn't had to fight a real war like You-Know-Who had to do to come to power. But his reign would probably have made You-Know-Who's pale in comparison. Neville, who was listening with interest, looked fascinated and horrified in equal measure.
An hour later, it was obvious that everyone but Hermione was tired of reading. Hannah and Tonks had joined the discussion with Aster, who had somehow drifted from Nero to the Cyclops and what had become of them today. She listened with a distracted ear, enjoying the warmth of her mug of hot chocolate under her fingers. History had many more dark lords than she had realised, she mused. You-Know-Who was often referred to as the most terrible dark lord of all time in the few conversations she'd heard about him, but that couldn't be further from the truth.
In the discussions she had had with Aster in the few weeks since they had met, she had mentioned Dark Lords far worse than you know who. The example of Vlad III Basarab had purely chilled her blood. The fact that You Know referred to the most terrible of them all showed either a crass ignorance on the part of most of those she had heard of, or a terrible ethnocentrism and recentism. That said, from what her mo... aunt had told her about the last war, you know who had waged a most effective campaign of terror. The still recent memories and fresh wounds of the last war perhaps explained this exaggeration. After all, despite the horrors of the Grindelwalds War, which had been far worse than anything you-know-who had accomplished, that period was as good as forgotten, passed over in silence in British magical society. Moreover, even though she had asked her aunt many questions about it, she knew too little about it. Her gaze then fell on Aster, perhaps she could tell her more.
While she wasn't paying attention the subject had veered from the cyclops to theories about the nature of Poseidon. There was apparently clear evidence of its existence, but no one seemed to be able to agree on its true form. The theory presented in the history book as the most reliable was that he was a merman sorcerer so powerful that he had been considered a god by the Mediterranean peoples. Aster had taken a back seat to the discussion, watching the intense exchange between Hannah, Tonks, Leane and Sophia with amusement. Hermione had started reading again, and Neville was desperately trying to calm the debate but didn't know how.
Desperate to put an end to their increasingly absurd argument, (Tonks was throwing out more and more stupid theories, amused by the distress of the three poor girls. ) Susan cleared her throat. "Aster, can you tell us about Grindelwald, please? We hardly know anything about him." The heated debate ceased, the three girls realising what they were doing, blushing, while Tonks was doubled over with laughter. Hermione and Neville gave her grateful looks and Aster simply raised an eyebrow. "Hannah, do you realise that you've been defending tooth and nail for fifteen minutes that Poseidon was a sea unicorn forcing those who see her to eat hallucinogenic seaweed?" Hannah, red as a tomato, obviously didn't know what to say, just grumbled in a low voice.
"What do you want to know about Grindelwalds?" Aster asked.
"I mean... I know he was a terrible Dark Lord and wanted to exterminate the Muggleborns, and rule over the survivors, but that's it... I also know that he had many allies, especially among magical creatures. So I was wondering if there was more to it than that.
"Hmm... Yes, a lot more." Aster said thoughtfully. "Say, what do you know about the status of the secret?"
Susan didn't quite see what that had to do with her question... " It's a set of global laws applying to all magical communities in the world, ratified in 1689, declaring the complete separation of the magical world from the non-magical world, due to the persecution of wizards at the time." She almost recited. "What does that have to do with anything?"
Aster nodded, smiling. "That's what it says in the books, yes. But I'll elaborate a little." Everyone in the room had fallen silent, watching Aster curiously, the girl could sometimes have an impressive aura of gentle authority. They were all hanging on her every word. Even Hermione had looked up from her book.
"You're not repeating what I'm about to say, I, and by extension my mother might get into trouble otherwise. Questioning the status is something that can easily send you to Azkaban. A good portion of the prisoners there are anti-Statutarian, after all."
Susan swallowed and nodded. She was almost afraid to know, but her curiosity was too great. The others followed her lead. Neville looked uncomfortable, but too curious to leave. Tonks had moved closer, his eyes fixed on Aster, her hairs having turned to a deep violet.
"For a long time, the status of secrecy has been considered by the great magical organisations. In the early 1600s, the project was first really proposed. For nearly eighty years, the deadliest world war of all time raged." Aster let her voice drop at this statement, taking the time to let the message sink in. Susan looked at Hannah with wide eyes, not believing her ears. Tonks was in the same state of dismay as Leane and Sophia.
"For a long time, the status had been considered for several reasons. Some more rational than others. Many wizards were abducted young to serve in the armies of the great nations, the major monotheistic religions declared them evil and set up great witch hunts. In many places, magical creatures were over-hunted and endangered... Valid reasons. But on the other hand, many wizards felt inherently superior to non-magicals, seeing mixing with them as an insult, the fact that non-magicals could benefit from the blessings of magic as a waste of resources that they did not deserve. All of these reasons and other minor ones pushed the idea of total separation harder and harder. Until the majority of the large magical organisations were convinced that it was the right thing to do.
However, not everyone was of this opinion, far from it. For the large nations of magical creatures, such as the Veela nations, Matagots, Naga, Cyclops, Centaurs and I'll stop there, the list is too long, the status meant an intolerable deprivation of freedom. Try to tell a veela that she won't be able to fly where she wants for fear of being seen by a muggle, it will go badly. The same goes for other species. The Otherworld trade would also be almost entirely banned and finally, the non-magical nations would firmly refuse to be deprived of the wonders that magic brought them.
I will not detail the course of the war, it would be much too long, but know that it is at this time that Atlantis sank, that Antarctica became an uninhabitable frozen desert, that the great nations of the continent of Mû disappeared and that the Himalayas lost two kilometres of height... among other things, to give you an idea of the scale of the event.
As you can imagine, at the end of the war, the coalition of status was victorious. But not entirely. Some nations such as Ulthar or Hymgaabal in Europe refused the status, and chose to banish all muggles from their territory before hiding their entire country with dimensional realm wards. The magical nations we know today were shaped at this time. The existence of Atlantis and Mû as well as all the other anti-statutarian territories that were wiped off the map were then classified Damnatio Memoriae. At the same time as all Muggle archives were purged of all traces of magic, the archives of the newly created magical nations were purged of all information on the war of the status. The aim of the victorious nations was to make the establishment of status seem like a unanimous decision of the magical world. Today, only the secret archives of the Great Library of Alexandria and the archives of the hidden nations hold the detailed history of this war. Since then, there have been regular anti-Statutarian insurrections. In Britain, they are punished with life in Azkaban for the participants, and dementor's kiss for the instigator."
"How do you know all this?" Leane asked after a long moment of stunned silence.
"My adoptive mother is a history buff Nymph who lives in the hidden nation of Ulthar. She'd be outraged if Hermione and I didn't know this sort of thing." She said with a light laugh.
Susan was speechless, their world had gone through this... war... abomination... and most people didn't know. She didn't know what to make of the pro/anti status conflict, but to erase it from the history books was an abominable act!
"You said that the magical nations came into being at that time, what was there before? Leane asked in a small voice.
"In most cases, a cooperation between institutions of magical governance and muggle. For example, the Wizengamot and the Crown of England had many treaties of cooperation, wizards and muggles lived together. Many wizards made a living selling potions to muggles for exemple." Leane nodded, obviously pensive.
"What about Grindelwald?"
"I'm getting to that. Grindelwald saw the recent and exponential development of the muggles as extremely dangerous in the long run. So he wanted to take control of the muggle governments and turn them into puppet states run by the magical nations. He also wanted to get rid of the old European magical nobility, which he saw as a hindrance to the progress of the magical nations, and set up parliamentary democracies in their place. He almost succeeded. Grindelwalds had many allies, among them the hidden nations. Grindelwald's aim was not to bring down the Status of Secrecy, but many parties fighting against it saw his action as a first step towards its downfall. This was one of the main reasons for Grindelwald's failure. The magical nations of MACUSA would never have joined the fight against him if they had not seen him as a threat to the maintenance of the status. Most of today's wars and diplomatic tensions are a direct legacy of the Status War. You-Know-Who's movement, for example, refers directly to the ideology of the status coalition but in a more extreme way with the exclusion of muggleborns to completely detach the wizarding 'race' from all non-magical influences. That's what it's all about."
Susan, Leane, Hannah, Tonks, Neville and Sophia looked at each other for a moment. Susan felt as if she had been kicked in the gut with every revelation. "They can't do anything to us if they find out we know that? Can't they?" Neville asked in a small, terrified voice.
Aster rolled her eyes, Hermione had just returned to her reading. "To know it? No. But catching you shouting classified damnatio memoriae information from the rooftops, that's a move to make you look anti-Statutarian and land you in Azkaban in less time than it takes to say it."
"What about you? The fact that you're telling us about it? Doesn't that put you in danger?" Leane asked, clearly worried and shaken.
"I'm what you call a natural occlumens, no one can know what I told you if you don't talk about it." Aster said with a shrug.
Sophia had buried her head in her hands, motionless, having visible difficulty assimilating what Aster had said. "I can't believe it..." she muttered.
Susan took another sip of hot chocolate, letting her gaze drift to the window. The history of their world was infinitely wilder and more fascinating than she had expected. Walking through the door of the cub earlier today, she had expected to have a good time, but this? This was beyond her expectations.
oOOOo
"This is not a good idea!" muttered Hermione as she trotted along beside her.
"But how else are you going to find out?" hissed Aster in response. Pushing forward with a broom too big for her clutched in her arms.
"Maybe it's just not worth the cost of braving curfew and stealing a broom just to test your theory about the Great Hall ceiling!" replied Hermione, a mixture of desperation and dismay audible in her voice.
"But I assure you it will be super interesting!"
"Interesting enough to jeopardize our plans by getting you noticed?
"Yes! Because of the wards I can't figure out how the ceiling in the great hall works! Everything is too concentrated, I need to get close, to touch to see! And if my guess is right not to have checked it would be stupid!"
"What if we get caught and accused of something? What would we do?"
"I am far too innocent to be accused of any wrongdoing!" Aster said, turning her wide, angelic eyes on a terribly unimpressed Hermione.
"Aster, that look hasn't worked on me for a long time..."
"Ugh! Please Hermione! Just this once! The curiosity is killing me!"
"You absolute magical nerd, you'll end up killing me with your stupidity." Hermione grumbled. "You should never have been allowed near a broom. You're a living disaster."
Aster grinned, earlier today had been first year flight training. Out of curiosity and in order to see what wizards did in terms of enchantments to make things fly, and possibly to use them as inspiration for her corporal array of independent flight, she had messed with the broom's enchantments. This had led to the unintentional removal of all speed limits from the broom, which, due to the magical overload, had turned to ash in her hands, after having made a mind-blowing speed surge just above the lake. Aster would have liked her first encounter with merpeople to have been under better conditions... Swimming in the icy lake had not been the most pleasant experience... especially with the kraken more than willing to play with her.
She had only escaped countless hours of detention thanks to her big puppy eyes and her description of the event as an accident due to a faulty broom. Aster hated her size, any hope that she could be threatening, or even a little intimidating and respected at first glance was screwed with that appearance. What bothered her most was the fact that Hermione was now much taller than her and getting taller by the minute. Granted, this situation had its advantages, she was a smaller target, harder to hit, had the benefit of surprise, and could quite easily convince anyone of her innocence, but that didn't stop her from cursing her body's inability to grow. It made sense unfortunately, a dead body is not supposed to grow. Maybe she should start looking for a ritual to transform her body into something more acceptable...
"Aren't you curious about the secrets of the enchanted ceiling yourself? I'm sure it's some kind of projection from the top of a tower." Aster asked, still trying to convince her friend of the merits of their nighttime excursion.
"Yes, of course it is! But I'm sure we could just find the answer in one of the books in the library instead of going out after curfew like this. Besides, it just seems way too real to be anything but space distortion." Hermione growled indignantly.
"Too late, we've already arrived!" replied Aster, giving her a victorious smile as they entered the large, deserted hall at this late hour. The large empty tables under the blue light of the moon shining from the enchanted ceiling gave the place an ethereal atmosphere.
"Will you ride with me?" offered Aster as she mounted the broom.
Despite her obvious discomfort with the idea of flying, Hermione nodded with a sigh. "Just to keep you from repeating the lake thing. The fact that you want to ride that death trap again after what happened just blows my mind." She said as she climbed up behind Aster, putting her arms around her to grab the broom handle as well.
"Up we go!" exclaimed Aster as she pulled on the handle forcing the broom to point at the ceiling as it left the floor. A broom was obviously not the most comfortable or pleasant object for Aster to fly with, but the feeling of weightlessness, the air in her hair, the ground rapidly receding beneath her feet, that was something she could really enjoy. Even more so if she could lean against Hermione's chest and feel her arms around her.
Dodging a few candles floating in the air was not difficult, and soon enough they were approaching the ceiling. Aster began to slow down, but to Hermione's delight and astonishment this was not necessary. Where seconds earlier they had been in the Great Hall, they were now flying fifty meters above the black lake.
Hermione laughed out loud then, reinforcing Aster's desire to just sulk for the next century. "I was right!" cried her friend. "It was space magic! Well, Aster? How does it feel to be wrong for once?"
Aster frowned, doing her best to keep from pouting. "It can't be, not on this scale. There's something wrong with this castle. A ceiling shouldn't be able to act as a short, one-way portal! It's ridiculous! It's even more ridiculous given that the wizards here seem to think that setting up portals is impossible," she grumbled.
She felt one of Hermione's hands dive into her hair and ruffle them thoroughly, dishevelling her long red locks without mercy or remorse. "I was right! You're just too much of a sore loser to admit it without whining!" her friend continued, amusement audible in her voice.
"Yes... yes... you're right, it's okay. You're right and I was wrong. Now, off to bed, it would be silly to get caught by a teacher."
" Heh, no more being so cheeky now." laughed Hermione more.
Like the mature girl that she is, Aster took her defeat in stride and merely turned her head to stick her tongue out at Hermione. Which to her dismay, only made her friend laugh harder.
oOOOo
Life had never been kind to her. She had been born into a poor family in the borough of Westminster, her father was an alcoholic and violent man and her mother had always refused to tell her how she earned enough to feed them and pay for their small flat. She had excelled at school and had hoped to get her family out of poverty by going on to higher education, perhaps even becoming a doctor.
When, at the age of eleven, a short, pudgy, scornful-looking man in a long black robe came to the door and announced that she had been admitted to Woodbridge Underground Public School, a small London magical school, she had her first glimpse of a better future. She was a witch, with real power, she could save her family, find them a decent place to live.
Her magical schooling was so important and time-consuming that she could not continue her normal studies at the same time, to the despair of her teachers. At that time, integrating into this world of wonder and magic had been the absolute priority, for a better future, she told herself every night, while hearing her father and mother violently arguing about her.
It was only much later that she realised her mistake.
Thanks to her hard work and determination, she quickly became the best student in the small school. She far surpassed her peers, but earned only the disdain and contempt of her teachers, preferring to focus on the 'well-born' children. She graduated with a brilliant degree, a Newt level in potion, rune, arithmancy and transfiguration, as well as the jealousy of her classmates and the scorn of her teachers. During her years of study, she had gradually become aware of how people of her blood were treated. But foolish as she was, she had not lost hope, telling herself that with her skills, she would find a job, and that people would see that even with her blood, one could do great things.
Oh how wrong she was. She met rejection after rejection, no one wanting to give her even a chance to prove her worth. At the end of her despair, she wanted to return to her parents who had not given any news for several months. But all she found was an empty flat, and an old newspaper lying on the street, in which a small article told how a local man had beaten his wife to death, before being captured and sent to prison. It was when she saw her father's picture in the article that something in her heart broke.
She tried to resume a muggle education, but it was too late, she didn't have enough money and too many educational gaps. She survived on odd jobs for a while, before one day finding herself on the streets, wandering from shelter to shelter, facing darker and darker thoughts, sometimes spending entire evenings twisting and turning her wand between her fingers, feeling the unbearable warmth emanating from the soft wood. Her curse.
Consequently, when less than a year later, Mimosa found herself in a beautiful silk dress, at a great magical party, under a starry sky like no other, she had to pinch herself several times to make sure she wasn't dreaming.
And to think that she owed her entire current life to a little girl-like vampire who had reached out to her on a rainy evening.
The beginning had not been easy, and she had questioned her choice several times, but now she could not regret it. She knew that this was a criminal organisation that violated many of the laws of the Wizengamot by its very existence. That more than half of it was made up of various creatures that her teacher had taught her to fear. But in spite of all this, she now knew she belonged to something great. Something greater.
The Order of the Asphodel had been her salvation, a place from which she could work to change the world for the better. The growth of the order had been brutal and swift. People in her situation had been numerous to seize the hand that had been extended to them, crushing other criminal organisations or absorbing them in its path.
She had gained a family, friends, a companion, a purpose... And all thanks to the girl-like vampire clad in silver armour shining under the stars and torchlight, standing on the grand stage facing the crowd of guests. Aster Karrasinqi. The person she respected and admired most in the world. The one who had taken it upon herself to offer them what the magical government had proven incapable of providing. Her hand rested on the pommel of her long matagot steel blade. Her great pale staff with its mysterious markings gleaming softly like a glowing ember. Her left eye shining with a light as frightening as it was fascinating. She had long been aware of the existence of Anna Karrasinqi, right-hand woman of Vlad III of Basarab, master of the golems, Angel of War, to name but a few of her monikers. Within the order, it was debated whether she was really Karrasinqi's heir or not, but Mimosa knew. Such a golemic arm could only be the work of the vampire dark Lady herself.
Mimosa loved the order, it was her family, her home, her hope, but she was not blind to its flaws. It had developed too quickly, on a basis lacking in stability, with a leader who was not charismatic enough. The situation had worsened with the departure of the said leader for Hogwarts. Seeing the unrest growing, Ethan had sent a letter, asking for guidance from Karrasinqi and her 'shadow' to avoid a collapse of the order.
The letter they received in response left them perplexed. To calm the tensions within the order, they were going to organise a party on October 10th... A great matagon party in honour of the unification of the seven kingdoms. This had left them all puzzled until Ethan read them the long list of guests. The Matagone royalty of Ulthar and several important nobles, several masters of the great guilds of the Hanse of Svorak, dignitaries of the great Fahri caravan passing through the region, members of the high court of Hymgaabal... Mimosa knew neither Hymgaabal, nor what a Fahri could be, but with each new name, the objective of Aster and her advisor became clearer.
The few remaining doubts were swept away when Ethan began to read the planned activities. Drinks, dancing and political discussion of course. But most importantly, "the pit." A Matagonean tradition of the Unification Festival consisting of conducting sword duels in honour of the duel of the sovereigns who decided on the final unification of the seven Matagot kingdoms. Finally, the highlight of the show, Aster had planned to conduct a high ritual to call for their blessing by one of the powers. Mimosa had not understood what it was all about, but when Asmodeus had enlightened them, she had shuddered with fear mixed with anticipation and awe.
The purpose of this vast enterprise had been clear to her. It was a statement in disguise. An opportunity for Karrasinqi to demonstrate her power and her allies to the order, to make sure that no one could even entertain the idea that Karrasinqi did not fit in as head of the order. And it had already started to work. Many members of the order watched the other guests with fear and fascination. From the cat-men in elaborate armour, proudly bearing their enchanted ceremonial weapons, the ominous Hansians with their austere masks, the Fahri, those strange creatures with three eyes, four arms and colourful garments, to the proud veela women with their large, beautiful bird wings, from whom many of the human wizards were unable to avert their eyes.
Karrasinqi had climbed onto the stage, at her side stood another young girl with long wild curls, also dressed from head to toe in magnificent armour of wrought plate almost vibrating with crackling magic, she too holding a large, visibly heavily enchanted staff in her hand. Karrasinqi walked to the front of the stage, and gradually silence fell among the guests.
Her speech was brief, but to the point. A great thank you to all the guests who had accepted the invitation, explicitly naming the Matagonian royal family, the Hansian guild masters, the veela of the high court, and the Fahri itinerary masters. Expressing her wish that this great celebration in honour of the Matagon unification would be a mark of lasting cooperation and alliance between all those present. She concluded her speech with a brief introduction of Hermione Snow, her advisor, declaring her to be her heir. Most of the Asphodel members seemed shocked at this statement, discovering the mysterious advisor of their leader. Karrasinqi concluded her speech by raising her hand to the sky, which launched what she could only describe as the magical equivalent of the most breathtaking fireworks display she had ever seen.
As the party began in earnest, some turning to the tables where food and drink were offered, and others going to dance to the music that had begun to play or heading to the "pit", she still had her eyes fixed on Karrasinqi and Snow coming down from the stage to mingle with the guests, lost in thought. So much so that she only realised that someone was standing next to her when his voice startled her.
"Can I get you a drink?" Ethan said as he handed her a cup of what she assumed was a Matagon wine.
"I'd love one, thank you. But please don't scare me like that again." She said to her companion as she accepted the glass. Some time ago, Karrasinqi had instituted a blood bonding policy within the order. On a voluntary basis, non-vampire members were encouraged to become a companion to a vampire by affinity. Ethan Warpulnys had quickly offered to become her companion, not only because they already got along well, but also to set an example within the order that there was nothing to fear by becoming a vampire's partner. To show wizards within the order who had certain fears and prejudices towards vampires that these were unfounded.
Since then, despite their considerable age difference, she and Ethan had become very close. So much so that she was beginning to wonder if they weren't becoming something more than blood mates.
" Forgive me, my lady. " Ethan said jokingly with his characteristic smirk that never failed to make her blush. "I just noticed that you seemed quite thoughtful on this joyous evening."
Mimosa took a sip of the delicious wine, letting her gaze drift to Karrasinqi and Snow chatting with a high-ranking noble or royal matagot and a Svorakian guildmaster. "I feel like I'll never know what to think of her." She said after a while.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Of Lady Karrasinqi?"
"Yes..."
"I think you're far from alone. Most of the order answered the call tonight. Many out of respect and admiration for her, others in the hope that it would reveal how pathetic she is, and that her appearance is indeed a reflection of who she really is. But tonight, I think that even those who admire her did not expect... so much. And yet, we are only at the beginning."
"Do you think tonight will be enough?"
"To make her completely untouchable in the eyes of anyone not loyal to her?"
She nodded as she gently swirled the scarlet liquid in the hollow of her crystal glass.
"No. But those already loyal to her will revere her, many will rethink their judgement, the others will have to think twice before they try anything stupid."
"I guess we'll have to satisfy ourselves with that for now," she sighed.
"Unfortunately, yes." Ethan concluded by putting his arm around her waist and pulling her against his side. Maybe tonight wouldn't be the end of the turmoil within the order, but it would be a step in the right direction, and Mimosa wasn't going to let her worries spoil what would undoubtedly be an excellent evening.
oOOOo
To say that Aster did not enjoy large gatherings would be an understatement. Crowds made her feel oppressed, forced her to be on constant alert, more than usualy. But fortunately, the guests at the celebration were mostly more than friendly to her. She and Hermione had given a lot of thought to how she could handle the problems within the order resulting from her lack of authority. The solution Hermione had proposed to her was as brilliant as it was unpleasant. Organise a big celebration. At first, Aster had been dubious, but Hermione's arguments had quickly convinced her. Not only would it allow her to establish herself as a force that shouldn't be underestimated and a leader worthy of her rank within the order by demonstrating her numerous allies, her physical and magical abilities, strengthen her ties and friendships with the matagots and the Hanse of Svorak, and reach out to Fahri and Veela as an ally. In short, Hermione had found a way to turn a disadvantageous situation into a master plan that would allow her to kill several birds with one stone.
Not to mention that by choosing to honor a Matagon tradition, in addition to honing her skills with the blades she had learned so painstakingly from her mother, she would strengthen her friendship with Ulthar. After all, the tradition of the Unification Festival and its traditional duels was as important an event as the commemoration of the Battle of the Seven Spikes. Moreover, she was able to choose to dress according to the matagon tradition of the knights for this kind of event. That is, in the full armour she had received. Much more comfortable to wear than a dress that would make her feel terribly vulnerable. Her choice of outfit had hit the nail on the head, it seemed, given the approving looks she had received from Nepeta and Samarillis.
When she had sent out her letters of invitation, she had expected only a few to come, Nepeta of course, given their connections, and members of the Hanseatic League to show their goodwill given that the Order of the Asphodel was their only point of access from Svorak to the UK. The arrival of one or two Fahri was almost certain given the well-known curiosity of their species, but as for representatives of Hymgaabal, nothing was certain. Therefore, Aster had been more than surprised when almost all the guests had chosen to come. Even His Majesty Samarillis Etark of Ulthar, the heir to the throne, had said yes. When she had expressed her surprise to Hermione, the latter had simply rolled her eyes.
As soon as she had stepped down from the platform, she and Hermione found themselves facing Nepeta and Samarillis, both eyes shining with pride for Nepeta and excitement and curiosity for Samarillis. On one of her previous visits to Ulthar, she had seen the young future ruler, who had confronted her about her omission of her vampiric heritage. Apparently, the name Aster Karrasinqi had crossed the circles of the Hanseatic League of Svorak and reached his ears. It was with great relief that she received confirmation that the name Karrasinqi was not frowned upon in Ulthar, nor in the other hidden nations.
"Good evening, Your Highness, Lady Cateris." She said as she bowed respectfully, trying her best to follow the etiquette of Matagonian chivalry. Her eyes rested on Samarillis' gleaming and finely crafted armour, before meeting Nepeta's warm and amused gaze.
"Good evening Lady Karrasinqi Legravallina of the Asphodel, Hermione Snow of the Asphodel." Samarillis replied with amusement. "I am glad to see that after obtaining your title, you did not stop there. Ulthar is pleased to see that you have chosen to honour its traditions.
"It is a pleasure and an honour to welcome you tonight, Your Highness." Their eyes locked together for a moment, before they both chuckled in a very unnoble manner.
A few minutes later, when the formal greetings with Lady Cateris were done, the group moved to one of the drinks tables, quickly joined by Kohre-sha a Fahri navigator and Svan Svrälnov a Hansian guildmaster , whose mask and emblem indicated membership in the shipping guild. Aster still found it hard to hide her amusement when she noticed that Hermione, despite all she had been through, was still intimidated by the situation.
The discussion that had begun might have seemed a little boring from the outside, since it revolved mostly around politics, but Aster was getting as involved as she could, since tonight she was here as Master of the Order of the Asphodel, not as a friend of the people present. Still, she was happy with this arrangement as it saved her from having to be completely overwhelmed by the crowd, as their circle of high-ranking people seemed intimidating enough to create a large empty space around their group. Even more so when Estrella D'alloïs joined them, the aura of the tall, silver-blue-feathered veela having been enough to allow her to cut through the crowd to their group without any difficulty.
Aster was pleased to learn that Ulthar and Hymgaabal had recently grown closer, after the failed coup attempt. The Khrè yujul presence in Ulthar had also greatly diminished. This could only reassure her, since the last time she heard, her head was still on bounty from the empire. After a long moment of being taken to task by Svan Svrälnov to discuss the possible sale of invisibility and speed arrays to improve Hansian airships, Aster glanced at the moon. It would soon be time to declare the opening of the duelling ceremony in the pit. After promising a duel to Samarillis, who wanted to test his blade skills against the martial techniques of Vlad's guard taught by Anna, Aster slipped away to the stage, she had to announce the beginning of the duels.
She regretted having to leave Hermione alone, the decision to formally introduce her to the Order of the Asphodel had been a hard one to make, but now that Hermione had her battle staff, and was presented as someone important enough to be in direct contact with the Crown Prince of Ulthar, she wasn't risking much.
oOOOo
Hermione was uncomfortable, if not a little scared. And she could only blame herself. After all, it was she who had managed to convince Aster to take her to the party. She had been curious for far too long to meet the members of the Order of the Asphodel. To see for herself the organisation that Aster cared so much about. But that didn't mean she wasn't worried or anxious, in fact she would be a fool not to be. The reason Aster wanted to keep her away from the order still stood, it remained unstable, and Aster rightly feared that traitors and power-hungry unsavoury people were hiding within it. Given her close proximity to Aster, it was obvious that she would be a prime target for these people. Moreover, she was nowhere near as capable of defending herself as Aster. She had a battle staff, some emergency arrays that Aster had insisted she take, her sword and her Matagone ceremonial armor, but she doubted she could face a vampire or a lycan in close combat. Especially since her blade was rather useless to her, since she didn't know how to use it properly.
Fortunately, the place was teeming with Aster's trusted allies, and she had only to stay among them to avoid being in danger. Especially since she had the impression that Aster had asked Nailla specifically to watch over her. The latter had not left her side for the last half hour. The two of them, after separating from Nepeta's group, headed for the stands surrounding the pit. Earlier, Aster had declared the start of the duels, Hermione didn't much like the fact that the tradition of this celebration involved ritual fighting, despite the cultural importance of it, though her problem with it had more to do with the fact that Aster was planning to participate in it, to, she quoted, " stretch her legs"... While she didn't like the fact that Aster was making a spectacle of herself in this way, let alone with something so dangerous, she preferred to be present on the stands and be able to intervene if necessary rather than remain unaware.
She and Nailla were halfway there when they were stopped by a voice.
"Good evening Miss, Madam, I beg your pardon, I would like to exchange a few words." Said a man, a vampire, she corrected as she noticed his complexion far too pale and the fang uncovered by his smile. He was tall and skinny, but Hermione knew better than to underestimate the strength of a vampire. He wore an elegant three-piece suit ending in tails. His gaze roamed up and down her, as if he was trying to dissect her with his eyes, as if just looking at her would be enough to reveal all her secrets.
"Good evening, Ethan." Nailla said in a neutral tone, raising an eyebrow.
"Ethan... Warpulnys?" asked Hermione, if it was indeed him, it was no wonder he was trying to connect with her. He was Aster's right hand man in the organisation after all.
"The very one. At your service, Hermione Snow."
"Nice to meet you." She said a little hesitantly. She really wasn't used to this kind of situation. It was Aster who usually handled these things.
"The pleasure is all mine. The inner circle has been wondering about you for a long time."
"What do you mean?"
"Ethan, this is no time to bother Hermione, we don't want to miss the start of the duels." Nailla interrupted, stepping in front of her.
" Please, Nailla my dear, I mean no harm to your friend, I was just curious to meet the mysterious 'Shadow of Karrasinqi'."
"Shadow of what?" asked Hermione increasingly confused and worried.
"That's what the inner circle of the order has taken to calling the mysterious advisor of the boss. You know, Miss Snow, Karrasinqi respects your advice and suggestions very much. Almost all of them have been implemented as is."
Nailla took another step, which made Ethan step back, the latter raising his hands in the air in submission. "I won't keep you any longer. Enjoy the party, ladies." He said as he stepped back, Hermione sensing an unconcealed interest and curiosity in his eyes.
A shiver ran down her spine, she didn't know what to make of this strange encounter. Without her realizing it, her gloved hand slipped into Nailla's, not letting go until they reached the stands.
oOOOo
The pit, as traditionally built in the Matagonian culture, was a large circle of a good fifty meters in diameter, surrounded by several levels of wooden benches. The floor of the pit was perfectly flat, beaten earth covered with a slightly luminescent sand to allow the spectator to see the duels at their best. Several other circles were marked out in the pit, each of which could accommodate a duel, so that several fights could take place simultaneously.
The rules were simple, do not kill your opponent, and do not inflict wounds so severe that they cannot be healed. Other than that, all blows were allowed. However, it was extremely frowned upon to use so-called 'cowardly' tactics, such as blinding your opponent, spitting in his face, using poison, or whatever. The Matagon culture attached great importance to honour, and these duels were meant to honour the kings and ancestors by showing the martial skill, honour, and courage of each combatant. Once in a circle, the fighter would remain there until defeated, or the end of the ceremony.
It was not a competition, far from it, in such a setting, to win a fight in a dishonourable manner was far worse than admitting defeat, the determination to win to the point of forgetting one's honour being seen as a weakness, a renunciation of the way of the warrior and the knight to embrace the way of the wild beasts. In such duels, the use of magic other than for the enchantment of weapons and armour was seen as the worst insult to the ancestors, an immense cowardice to abandon the blade for the wand when facing a stronger opponent.
So it was with respect and humility that Aster entered one of the circles, declaring by this action the beginning of the duels. She suspected that this was not often the case for muggleborns, but she knew that most wizards always carried at least one blade with them, if their wand was ever out of reach, and that most had had at least rudimentary training in its use. Even Susan had told her that she always carried a heavily enchanted dagger on her person. Therefore, she was sure that many of the mages of the order would join the duels. The lycans and werewolves would not hesitate for a second. The Fahri and members of the Svorak Hanse guilds would surely abstain, but the Matagots and Veela would surely be among the most talented and willing fighters of the evening.
To her surprise, the first opponent to step into her circle was a young matagot with beige fur and amber eyes. She would have bet that a member of her order would have been the first to want to fight her. After all, one of the great goals of this evening was to change and assert her image. She had demonstrated what she was capable of during the few battles for control of rival criminal organizations, such as the one at the White Wyvern Tavern, but too few had attended to counterbalance the image that her far from intimidating physique gave her. Ideally, by the time she returned to Hogwarts tomorrow, no one would have any reason to question her position as head of the order out loud. Hopefully, these few duels would also be an opportunity for her to let off a little steam and release her frustration at the difficulties she was having in obtaining the stone.
Her gaze sought out Hermione in the stands, quickly finding her young friend sitting next to Nailla, visibly worried despite Aster's assurance that she had nothing to worry about. She was grateful that Nailla had agreed to look after Hermione tonight, otherwise she would not have agreed to take her with her. In her peripheral vision she could see the other circles filling up. The sight of a veela watching her wizarding adversary make a fool of herself as he tried to show off his musculature nearly made her laugh.
She bowed respectfully to the foolhardy young matagot to face her with such confidence, the latter reciprocating her greeting hastily, obviously eager to play the hero in front of the thickly furred young matagone waiting in the stands with whom he exchanged glances of more than obvious significance. Aster rolled her eyes, she had forgotten that this ceremony was also an opportunity for the young matagots to demonstrate their honour, bravery, talent and courage to the young ladies.
She drew her blade, and waited for the young matagot in front of her to stop making eyes at his beautiful to face her. He drew his long scimitar in a way that was more impressive than practical. When their eyes met and she knew he was ready, she dashed forward. The reckless young man's eyes only had time to widen before she was on him in a cloud of dust, flying his scimitar out of his hands with a deft twist of her wrist before slamming the sole of her foot into his belly armor plate, knocking him backwards a few meters with a loud crack from the impact, out of the circle. She sighed and sheathed her blade. Karrasinqi's countless lessons had been burned into her muscle memory and the weight of her armor had been enough to give her blow enough impact. She hoped that not all duels would end in less than three seconds. She held out her hand to the defeated young matagot to help him up, he sheepishly thanked her before staggering with his tail down towards the young red matagone who had just jumped from the benches to run towards him.
To her great amusement the veela's opponent had met a less enviable fate, ending up unconscious, face down, with the veela visibly upset, her beautiful grey plumage puffed up, her arms crossed against her chest. The idiot must have royally pissed her off with his undue advances.
A few duels later, Aster was well warmed up, a big smile plastered on her face. She should do this more often. It was devilishly fun. She could feel the stress of the last few weeks melting away. She had just confronted Eveline, the grey-feathered veela who had told her she belonged to the Plumis flock. They had had a short but pleasant chat before their duel, apparently Hymgaabal was happy to finally see a truly pro-creature power rising in Britain and hoped to use the party to start diplomatic relations. She had managed to emerge victorious from the duel, but Eveline had fought like hell. The veelas could really be terrifying sometimes.
Eveline had just started back towards the stands when a massive man approached her circle. He was easily over two meters tall, his musculature was imposing, rolling under a leather jacket. His face was marred by numerous scars, his greasy, shaggy hair falling down the sides of his face to meet his thick black beard. Those steely blue eyes were riveted on her, gleaming with contempt. He carried a huge machete on his belt, easily the size of her. The magic around him formed the peculiar paterne she had come to recognize easily since the creation of the order. A Lycan. Probably an Alpha. His face looked familiar, she must have seen him once or twice in the order's headquarters.
"Karrasinqi." He barked. "Funny to see you presiding over this... party, boss. I suppose doing this sort of thing is more fun than running the order. Never seeing you there makes one wonder if you even care... or if you ever did."
She raised an eyebrow. Frankly, she had expected something like this. At least against him she could be frank. She watched his face a little longer... " Joe Shratt, you joined the order five months ago with the Lycan clan of Färns." She said thoughtfully. "A man not known for his... subtlety. What do you want."
"To put a presumptuous child in her place." He grunted.
She sighed." At least with you, things are clear." Several non-combatant members of the order had stopped to observe the confrontation. She couldn't just beat him. She had to humiliate him completely to break down any further thoughts of insubordination. "Come on, let's get this over with.
At these words, without so much as a salute, Joe lunged, drawing his machete and swinging it in a wide arc that would have sliced her in half had she not had armor, and had she not stepped back just in time. Less than a second later, the huge blade split the air towards her head. She ducked at the last moment, feeling the wind caused by the violence of the blow hit her face. Just as the blade was about to come down on her again, she drew and parried the blow with a deafening sound of metal against metal. Had the steel of her sword not been matagon-made and heavily enchanted, it would surely have shattered.
The giant facing her grunted, and with insane speed for his size, struck up and down. Aster spread her legs slightly for stability and caught the blade with her golemic hand, the impact so powerful that the shockwave was visible in the sand around them. The look of surprise on the huge Lycan's face was hilarious. Even more so when Aster clenched her fist, the steel of the machete shattering into a thousand fragments under the titanic pressure of her fingers. Joe took a few steps back, obviously not understanding what had just happened. Aster, not wishing to prolong this most unpleasant of fights, was on him in the blink of an eye, smashing her golemic fist into the Lycan's chest, sending him waltzing several feet away in a cloud of dust. She sighed, disappointed. Despite his strength and speed, the man was nothing compared to her mother.
She barely had time to see the man finish sliding through the dust before a mass of brown curls crashed into her, squeezing her with all her might. Aster couldn't understand much of what Hermione was saying, only catching a few words, such as worried, crazy, stupid, never again, idiot and other more flowery curses. With a big smile and a strange warmth in her chest Aster buried her hand in Hermione's thick hair. "You know, I wasn't risking anything, that guy couldn't fight. He just waved his big thing around and didn't know what to do with it."
"You stupid, brainless girl! I thought he was going to slice you in half!" said Hermione between sniffles, her face buried in the crook of her neck.
"Hermione, I really wasn't at risk, he was nothing like mum. Calm down, I'm here, it's okay." She said as she continued to stroke Hermione's head. The scene must have been quite ridiculous given the amused looks on the spectators' faces. After all, Hermione was significantly taller than her.
An echo of rage and surprise ran through the onlookers watching them, as a flash of green light shone in the periphery of her vision.
She didn't even have to raise her sword to try and parry the killing curse, as a barrier of sizzling grey static appeared around them, intercepting the spell. Hermione released her grip, her hand on her array of void shield. She pointed her staff at Joe, who was still lying on the ground pointing his wand in their direction, his face in an expression of surprise and fear. A bolt of golden energy shot out of Hermione's battle staff with a thunderous crack and struck the Lycan in the face. He fell unconscious instantly, his body shaking sporadically with tiny arcs of electricity.
Silence fell around them, the duels in progress interrupted by the noise. Hermione's face had taken on an expression of anger and hatred more intense than Aster had ever seen. It was a strangely pleasant feeling to see that expression on Hermione's face when it came to defending her.
Aster cleared her throat and said in a loud voice, "Joe Shratt will be tried for attempted murder by the Asphodel Council of Justice." As two of the guards from the security branch of the order were already rushing in their direction to seize the idiot and take him away.
"Are you two okay?" Nailla said in a soft voice as she approached. "You scared me to death."
"I think Hermione's a little shaken up, but other than that she's fine. Can you take her to the rest tent and look after her please?"
Nailla nodded as she took Hermione by the shoulders. At her refusal to let go, Aster leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I'm sorry Hermione, I'll meet you in the tent soon, I have to honor my promise of a duel with Samarillis and i'll be there. Thank you, you were exceptional." Aster could only feel pride at Hermione's action, especially as she could see a form of fear and respect for her friend in the eyes of the members of the order who were witness to the scene.
At these words, Hermione stepped back, taking both of her hands in hers before looking into her eyes. "You hurry up, then we'll get the ritual over with and go home," she whispered with authority. Aster could only nod, before Nailla walked Hermione away from the arena.
"Are you alright?" Aster was surprised to hear Samarillis' voice ask as he approached gracefully.
"Yes your highness. It could be better, but I suppose that's one less bad element within the asphodel." she sighed.
"I see. In Ulthar this sort of situation would have been settled by a duel to the death, but I suppose your decision to trust the justice branch of your order was the best one for its stability." He said in a detached tone as he watched the man being dragged from the pit, the matagots expressions were still difficult to interpret, but she could have sworn that Samarillis had a particularly dark look on his face.
"It seems to me that I promised you a duel." Said Aster with a smirk, trying to snap the matagot out of his gloomy mood.
"It's only fair, I'm glad to be able to measure myself against the results of Karrasinqi's teachings, besides, I don't wish to hold you back too long, your companion seems quite determined to drag you out of here by the scruff of the neck if necessary."
Aster grinned." That's what she made clear to me in no uncertain terms. She returned to the other side of the circle and bowed respectfully. So did Samarillis.
For the first time since the beginning of the duels, Aster found herself cornered, forced to parry and dodge relentlessly. Samarillis's blade was like lightning in his hand, always finding a new angle of attack. More and more often, iron met iron in a shower of bluish sparks. She danced around the blade, moving like a breath of wind, applying all that Anna had taught her. But each of her feints and thrusts would only be resolved by another metallic crack or met with air. On rare occasions, as she tried to slide or flutter through the dust to finally hit her target, Samarillis would position himself so that her blade met only metal.
The matagot's odd eyes shone intensely with wild joy as their exchange intensified. Their style were drastically different. Where Anna had taught her how to roam the battlefields sowing death as she herself had done, Samarillis was an indestructible mountain, trained for the duel, to face only one enemy at a time, but that enemy never stood a chance. Aster managed to get behind Samarillis' back for the umpteenth time in a daring acrobatic move, but he was already waiting, deftly parrying in another shower of sparks before forcing her to back off again. Aster was beginning to falter, despite her vampiric strength. Was it his lack of training since Anna's death? Her small size? She couldn't tell. But after a flurry of blows so fast that the sound of the blades clashing wer indistinguishable from one another, she couldn't tell how, her sword was ripped from her, and as the dust settled, she felt Samarillis's blade exert a slight pressure against her throat.
"I bow, you have bested me your Highness." She said as the blade left her throat and returned to its sheath.
"It was a duel such as I have not had in a very long time. And for that I thank you, Aster Karrasinqi of the Asphodel. He replied with deep respect in his eyes.
"It was a very rewarding experience, I am grateful. I hope you will honor us with your presence at the ritual. I must slip away I don't think I can keep Hermione waiting any longer without risking my life." She said with the most sincere smile she was capable of.
To say that Aster was disappointed in herself would have been the understatement of the century. She and Hermione had set up this whole charade to stabilize the order and make her look like the steadfast leader the order needed in these difficult times, and now she had underestimated Samarillis and lost. She should have known better, with a martial culture like the one of the matagots, obviously the heir to the crown would have the best training in the art of duelling. Add to that his matagot physiology, and she was screwed, especially after not being able to train with Anna for so long. She was not reassured by the stunned looks of the spectators and other duelists who had paused to watch them. How much confidence must they have had in her abilities to give her looks filled with such surprise. She bowed again respectfully to the future ruler, before fleeing the pit, trying to look as dignified as possible.
oOOOo
Mimosa was anxious, and rightly so. She was, after all, about to witness some kind of strange pagan ritual. She was not a religious person, never had been. She had only been confronted with religion on the rare occasions when her mother had taken her to church when she needed an excuse to leave the house during her father's fits of violence. The revelation of magic had not changed her views. For her, it was another fundamental force in the universe, just like gravity. Why would she seek to explain things by the existence of a superior, all-powerful being when the existence of such a thing is not necessary for the world to be?
She had heard whispers among some of her pureblood classmates about the powers, and from what little she had heard, it was a vast pantheon of deities, in which some believed. She had been curious for a while, wanting to fit in better with her classmates, but she had quickly stopped her research when she realised that the powers were a concept intimately linked to dark magic, and therefore extremely frowned upon by the politics of magical Britain.
Curious, and more than a little uneasy and frightened, she had asked Ethan for clarification on what Karrasinqi was actually planning to do tonight. He had explained with unconcealed excitement that she intended to call upon a rather obscure power in order to obtain from it a blessing on all the participants of the ritual. This was apparently something rarely done in conclaves and secret magical societies trying to secure the benevolence of one of the powers. Ethan obviously considered it a great privilege to be 'lucky' enough to be able to witness such a thing, something he had never really been able to witness despite his desires. And from a century-old vampire, that was alarming.
This unclear speech had done nothing to reassure her, what was really a power? A true deity? An exotic form of magic? Something else entirely? She wasn't sure she wanted the answer to that question, and yet she was going to be confronted with it within minutes. Fortunately, the attitude of the Veela, Fahri, Matagots and other magical beings present, who from what she understood were far more often confronted with this sort of thing than the wizards, was a little reassuring. They were almost all vibrating with excitement, with barely contained eagerness. On the other hand, most of the other muggle born and wizards of the order present seemed to be in the same state of anxiety as her.
Everyone had gathered away from the now deserted pit and tents, in a large grassy area of the great Scottish highland plateau on which the celebration had taken place. The crowd formed a large circle, in the centre of which Karrasinqi was carving something in a circle of burnt earth. Many whispers ran through the assembly, some voices worried, others excited. Two veela not far from her were theorising about 'who' Karrasinqi would call tonight. Three recent members of the order to her left, fairly young wizards who had lost their jobs after an attack by werewolves, were trying to convince one of their trio to stay and that it would be safe, because "after all, there is no sacrifice," she quoted. This sent a shiver down her spine. Were these kinds of rituals really regularly accompanied by sacrifices? She suspected that the word of three newly transformed werewolves was not worth much in terms of occult enough magic that even Ethan could not explain the details to her, but the idea of sacrifices was not going to leave her mind so easily.
Suddenly there was silence in the assembly, which immediately made her turn her head towards the centre of the circle. Karrasinqi had stood up, visibly satisfied. She then slowly began to chant in a language unknown to her but vaguely reminiscent of the one spoken by the few Fahri present when they were among themselves. A new shiver ran down her spine, with each new word, the air became thicker, charged with an indescribable tension. A strange, unearthly mist rose around her, while Karrasinqi's left eye seemed to grow brighter by the second. She could have sworn she saw the shape of a strange white flowering plant to her right for a brief moment, but it seemed to have disappeared immediately. Karrasinqi's long litany continued, like a song strangely sweet to her ears despite the strangeness of the language. She could feel her magic vibrating under her skin, as a strange sense of intoxication took hold of her. She felt herself being watched, as if something unseen had its gaze on her and her alone, an indescribably vast presence engulfing her.
The strength in her legs left her, and like many others around her, she fell to her knees. Karrasinqi looked taller, more imposing, her left eye flaring with a ghostly green fire. A feeling of euphoria grew inside her, more powerful than anything she had ever felt before. Her magic had never seemed so tangible, so integral to her being, a harmony as indescribable as it was perfect. A shock of pleasure as intense as it was indescribable took her breath away, her magic felt like it was spilling out of her, growing, and mingling with those around her. A new shock of pleasure, this one not fading away, turning into a soft, warm humming throughout her body.
She felt seen, observed, accepted, the presence around her had continued to grow. Karrasinqi's voice echoing across the plain was all she could hear, melodious, sweet, she could have sworn she heard the sound of a demented flute whistling in the distance. Through the fog surrounding them, she could see the stars, shining brighter than ever, all of them with a strange green tinge. And... they all formed constellations she didn't recognise, this was not her sky... She was unable to feel anything but pleasure as her magic continued to vibrate and grow in rhythm with Karrasinqi's voice, banishing all fear from her mind. She felt her consciousness slowly fading, the last thing she saw before the darkness of unconsciousness seized her was Karrasinqi, far too tall, with far too many arms, her shape ever changing, misty and fluid, one vertical eye, with a sparkling green iris, wide open in the middle of her forehead.
...
As if a bolt of lightning had struck her, she sat up suddenly, her sheets clenched into her fists. She looked around, confused, was she not dead? Why would she think she could be dead? A strange energy coursed through her body, so that she could not bear to sit still any longer. In an instant she found herself standing in the middle of the floor of her modest room. She lived in a small flat of Inverness near the harbour, everything seemed normal, the wards she had installed were in good condition, if not a little stronger than usual. She groaned as she massaged her temples, trying to remember what had happened the day before. She had gone to the great ceremony to honor the alliance of Asphodel, Ulthar, and those other associates... she needed a coffee. She dressed quickly and went into her small kitchen to brew it.
She had gone to the ceremony with more than a little apprehension, after all how could a muggle born know how to behave in the company of a high ranking magical being that she had only just met. She took out her wand and grunted an accio, not remembering where she had put her coffee bag, still too dazed, she did not notice the sparks running through her wand. What she did notice was the door of one of her cupboards being violently ripped off its hinges, and the coffee bag colliding with her face, spilling its contents onto the floor and her clothes. She swore profusely, completely forgetting her manners. Without taking the time to think, as was her habit when her clumsiness played this kind of trick on her, she hissed a scourgify.
She blinked a few times, sure, the instant coffee spilled on the floor had disappeared, but the surface layer of all her furniture seemed to have been stripped, the varnish on the table completely gone, and the metal of the coffee pot far too shiny.
She sighed in despair as she lowered her wand and squeezed the bridge of her nose. What on earth had happened to her? It was as if she was overloading all her spells without meaning to.
Abandoning all attempts to use her magic for the moment, she began to make her coffee by hand, the customary gesture allowing her to focus and clear the fog from her memories of last night's events. She'd had a good time overall with Ethan, had some extremely interesting discussions with a few veela and matagots, as well as a faun, she didn't even know if he'd been invited or had just turned up like that. She remembered quite well a completely lunatic exchange with a small group of Fahri who barely spoke English. They had tried to convince her to smoke Langkor dream weed with them, whatever that meant, and she had politely refused.
She had come away with more than just a little bit of brain flipping, had Karrasinqi really invited aliens to her ceremony? Did the concept of aliens even exist for wizards? From what she'd managed to get out of a passing matagot's mouth about them was that the Fahri yujul had been trading with wizards, matagots, veela and all other civilisations for millennia. Only that their trading posts, apart from those of the hidden nations, had been destroyed in the Status War... And that since then the nations of the ICW had completely forgotten about them, or deliberately erased them from their history books. She sat down at the table, and took a sip of a strong, bitter coffee that made her wince but put her mind back in place.
Although she had initially been reluctant to attend duels, as it reminded her too much of what she knew of the arenas of ancient Rome, she had been persuaded when Ethan had argued that duels were not to the death and were more martial arts than anything else, and that not attending would also be disrespectful to the Matagonian culture the ceremony honored. Frankly, she had no regrets about agreeing. Just for the artistic and spectacular aspect of the duels. Matagon martial arts had a feline grace to their execution that was extremely pleasing to the eye. And if she had had the prejudices about the veela that so many British wizards seemed to share, that they were unintelligent beasts only good for sex, and in the service of the good pleasure of a rich old wizard, or greedy, petty and malicious manipulators whose only aim was to steal the seed of powerful wizards and impose all-female offspring on them, they would have been swept away by what she had witnessed. The veela had almost all willingly participated in the duels, displaying impressive martial prowess. Strangely, there had been no duels between two veela. She had wanted to ask, but she was nervous in the presence of these beings, and had wanted to avoid being seen as disrespectful at all costs.
The only real problem she'd had with the show had been seeing Karrasinqi fight. A problem she was not alone in sharing if the looks she exchanged with other members of the order and even some matagots and veela were any indication. She knew intellectually that despite her appearance Karrasinqi must be older than her, perhaps even several centuries. But it made her throat tighten and her heart break to see a child-like being fighting like that, as if it were perfectly normal. She couldn't even tell if the fact that Karrasinqi had literally crushed most of her opponents was reassuring. It wasn't the first time that the discrepancy between what Karrasinqi really was and what she looked like was a problem, the night she'd heard Karrasinqi had personally gone to take over the white wyvern, she hadn't been able to sleep a wink.
It was even worse when Snow, Karrasinqi's mysterious associate, somehow saved her life by conjuring a magical shield that stopped the killing curse. How this was possible, she did not know, but the important thing was that Karrasinqi had simply decided to entrust the assassin to the justice of the order before fighting the prince of Ulthar as if nothing had happened.
And then, as if she hadn't had enough emotion for a month, she'd been dragged to the ritual, bits of which she was slowly beginning to remember, the mists, the flowers, the euphoria, the presence... the eye... She shivered. Even though her magic was currently feeling overloaded and more powerful than it had ever been, she didn't want to know what Karrasinqi had really done that night. Her basic self-preservation instincts screamed at her not to touch that kind of magic even with a ten foot pole.
She sighed as she took another sip, beginning to doubt her choice of coffee over calming herbal tea at a time when her magic felt like it was on the verge of exploding. At least the evening had not ended as she had feared, sacrificed alive, or worse, in the bed of one or more strangers.
oOOOo
At night, the hospital was as if completely transformed. The long beige corridors of the intensive care and long-term treatment wing were quiet, silent, lit only by the soft, diaphanous bluish glow of the ascélaris lumiphère hanging from the ceilings. His office was small, with a large glass panel overlooking the corridor, allowing him to monitor the comings and goings of the few healers on duty. On his large grey wooden desk were lined up twenty or so small tin and bronze devices, each one gently clicking, monitoring the condition of one of the patients for whom he was responsible.
Since he had finally finished sorting and filling out the considerable mass of files assigned to him by his slave-driver of a superior, he could finally allow himself a little relaxation. He was about to get up to stretch his legs in the corridor, when his eyes fell on the issue of the previous day's prophet that he had not yet had time to read. With nothing better to do to relax his mind, he grabbed the newspaper, or rather the ministerial rag as he liked to call it. Even The Quibbler was a less biased source of information, and that was no small feat. However, he liked to be amused by what the Ministry's pawns had to say about the wonderful state of their great and perfect country. If too much sarcasm could kill, he would have broken his oath as a healer by killing all his patients.
He quickly scanned the headlines, a new law had been passed forbidding werewolves to transform without wolfbane. Ridiculous... As if all werewolves could afford that kind of expense. He raised an eyebrow, a previously unheard of decrease of criminality was observed in the poor magical districts of the country's major cities. Good news at last. He grimaced, diplomatic relations with the Grand Alliance were becoming increasingly strained. The latter was complaining about the series of anti-creature laws passed by the current government that had caused unmanageable immigration from the UK to the Grand Alliance...
Suddenly his reading was interrupted by one of the monitors in the office. His eyes widened, since his arrival in their department, Alastor Moody's case had not improved. After the highly publicised battle with the Dark Lady Karrasinqi, he was one of the only survivors to witness what had actually happened. And since then, he had remained plunged into a strange coma from which no technique, magic or potion had been able to pull him out.
He immediately ran towards the room. Moody was not awake, but there had been a significant change in the situation that triggered the activation of the medical wards. He executed with precision the complex movement and long incantation required for the best diagnostic spell he knew. A set of runic symbols materialized in the air in front of him. There was no physical degradation, but the mental activity that had been dormant until now, as if in a deep sleep phase, had skyrocketed, as if he had just gone into paradoxical sleep. He ran out of the room, he had to call his colleagues immediately for further examination.