Eue-Lysae looks between Hester and Metze and toward the rest of her coven. The afternoon wind rustles the leaves on the oaks in the college’s cloister, knocking some to the ground, decorating the ankle-high grass with the warm colors of leaf litter.

  The two women face each other, fidgeting nervously as Eue-Lysae places the soft beeswax candles on their knuckles, pressing them in for stability. She had chosen the two oldest over her coven, hoping they would set a positive example for the others—this was unfortunately not the case.

  “Won’t this burn?” Metze tries to move her fingers, but the rope holds them tight together.

  “At least your hands are on the inside; I’m going to be the one getting burned.” Hester moves her wrists, trying to loosen the rope. “Did you need to tie these so tight?”

  “This is standard.” Eue-Lysae pulls a small lighter from a bag, placing a small wooden disk on the outer ring; she slides away the sigil’s cover, and a small flame appears. “The point of the rope is to keep you from moving your hands.”

  “Well, why do I have to play the role of the man? Why couldn’t Ermel?” Hester complains as Eue-Lysae takes her by the wrist, lighting her candle.

  “I don’t have the hands of a carpenter and wrists the size of the queen's breakfast rolls.” responds Metze.

  The rest of the coven chuckle, as well as Luhnylla, who has decided to seat herself on the pedestal holding up the statue: Consort of the Great Moon at rest with Kaladrae [1].

  Eue-Lysae lights the other candle and backs up away from Hester and Metze. The soft scents of roses and lily of the valley fill the air. She looks towards Luhnylla, whose grin is slowly growing wider.

  The smoke of the candles twists, moving unnaturally against the wind, moving to where Eue-Lysae was previously standing, coagulating itself into a form.

  “You two are adorable; I love the bickering. Such a shame this is only a mock ritual—I can change that, if you want? would this interest you two?” says Aineva, her voice soft and motherly.

  Eue-Lysae stays silent at the comment, waiting patiently for the inevitable reactions to Aineva’s appearance.

  Hester’s jaw goes slack, and the onlooking coven goes quiet, watching the visage of Aineva twist and turn as her teeth fall to the ground before turning to blood and absorbing back into her, blood pouring through splitting skin as her cheekbones become more pronounced.

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  Metze, focusing on the candle, mumbles. “Well, uh, I don’t think we’re—”

  Hester screams, trying to run away, pulling at the rope, only succeeding in pulling both her and Metze to the ground. Their candles stay lit as they come free and roll on the cobbles, smoke continuously being pulled into Aineva.

  Eue-Lysae runs a hand down her face as she watches Eved run out of the cloister, disappearing from sight behind a wall. “I should have invited Il?ena.” She walks over to Hester and Metze, beginning to help them up.

  Aineva chuckles; she begins to twirl her blonde hair as it gets reeled back into her scalp, slipping through her fingers—stopping just above her shoulders.

  Eue-Lysae walks over to the statue as her coven focuses on Aineva. Leaning against the marble pedestal, she looks up to Luhnylla, watching the goddess’s eyes flick over the coven as she gauges their reactions. “Already?”

  “No, no, of course not. It’s just always entertaining to see people's reactions to unbound deities—as I do not have the luxury.” Luhnylla responds.

  The coven slowly begins to calm down, adjusting to the rapidly changing appearance of the unbound Aineva.

  Faey is the first to speak up. “You seem quite used to these reactions?”

  “Oh, of course; I’ve grown used to these types of reactions long ago. Before we started binding ourselves to the high priestess, most brides would faint at their weddings.” She laughs, nostalgic for the simpler time. “I still do sometimes, usually in cases like this.”

  Eved returns, wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her black knit sweater; her face is pale. She makes eye contact with Aineva. “I’m sorry, aela’Aineva. I’m—I’m not the best with blood.”

  “Gyrshke.” Aineva looks towards Eue-Lysae. “You could have summoned me earlier and told me not to appear. You would have saved your girls the grief.”

  “I thought about it, but none of them have been in the presence of a deity apart from Luhnylla. So I figured it was about time. Sorry to use you as an example.”

  “It’s alright.” Aineva looks over the group. “Questions?”

  The coven is silent; some shake their heads.

  She turns back to Eue-Lysae. “You educate them better than most; usually I’m asked simple things: why do you look like that, can there be two of you, and do you feel everything that’s happening to you? I don’t dislike answering them, but I always feel a bit disappointed in the High Priestess.”

  Enngel raises her hand.

  “Yes?”

  “How often does this happen, aela’Aineva?”

  “Once a year, usually once a High Priestess has all ten of her coven picked, she will do a H?lbint Ritual, and I usually get summoned.”

  Enngel nods, a sufficient answer.

  Aineva waits a moment, seeing if anyone else will chime in—no one does. “I shall leave you to your practice then.” She vanishes back into the smoke, and the candles go out.

  Footnotes

  [1] Consort of the Third Moon at rest with Kaladrae is an 18 m tall marble statue that depicts Wylh?lm Herst (4967EotTS-4999EotTS) resting his hands on the cross-guard of Kaladrae. Originally sculpted by Arneth Brehkaer (0300EotG—0391EotG )in 0364EotG.