Five points to a star, five souls to be scarred.
The chosen few stood upon the corners bound in blood and wearing cloaks of midnight. Their hoods were draped over their faces, shrouds of eternity, as they each prepared to take upon themselves a new chapter where they would transcend from this life to the next.
An old man long since accomplishing one hundred years of age stood upon a podium overlooking the pentagram carved in stone, an eye of crimson scrawled upon his forehead. He was the Seer, all-seeing and all-knowing, chosen by the one who awaited them below to gather gullible souls, uniting them to the cause of an unholy crusade.
In the center of the pentacle stood the one chosen as the new vessel, the one who would ascend to the status of Seer. She was a young soul, exalted at an age much younger than previously thought possible. The coven–cult, more like–faced endless reservations regarding her place here. A new initiate they saved from otherworldly sin, a young girl who couldn’t know any better than them. But they would not utter such words out loud.
This was the will of their God.
The Seer spoke his final sermon, preaching the word of the being he had dedicated his life to. This would be her fate, the life she would lead, should it be fated.
It wasn’t supposed to go this far, wasn’t supposed to be like this. But it had come to a point where the one who stood in the center was terrified to speak a single word. Helplessly, the imminent vessel was forced to watch as daggers were willingly plunged into the chests of those who stood upon the five points. This was the effect of brainwashing, the power of manipulation. Their sacred blood trickled down into the carvings coated with an ancient essence that had fallen so many times before them.
This temple was sacred, predating most modern religions. Though they’d been cast away from the light, darkness will always find a way to push back.
The girl standing in the center, merely posing as a member of this divine religion, was never supposed to be here. She was a meek thing, unsuspecting. It would be entirely unlikely for her to be anything more than someone who yearned to serve a power higher than ever thought imaginable.
Years ago, when she happened to stumble upon the encampment, the people were more than welcoming of her, regardless of any flaws they perceived.
That was the story she told now, that was. It couldn’t be further from the truth, further from true intention.
“Reverend Mother, Daughter of Hatred and Maiden of Malice–hear our prayers, accept the one you have chosen as your vessel, the wolf who will lead lamb to the slaughter in the pursuit of your unholy desires!”
It wasn’t supposed to end like this.
She was only supposed to stay a little while. A glimpse into their life here, that was all she was sent to discover. But she couldn’t find a way out. The eyes, they were everywhere. Always someone watching, someone listening, someone there. She would rather risk a life of nearly eternal suffering than death.
But this.
This was leadership, responsibility. The people of this…this cult would look up to her as though she’d hung the moon and the stars. This wasn’t what she wanted, wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Yet she stood there, simply observing, as devout followers bled out on the floor in front of her, watched the Seer approach her with a dagger, holding its hilt out to her in waiting.
“Take it,” he said. “Let this blade be the final obstacle to walk in the path of The Reverend Unholy Mother.”
She couldn’t say a word. Was this the point where she said something? It felt impossible to tell. Drums beat an unfamiliar cadence, the scent of iron and incense burned her nostrils. Her eyes watered as everything flooded her senses all at once.
It felt like everyone was waiting on her, expectant on what she would say, what she would do.
The Seer spoke once more. “Carve my beating heart from its place within my chest and feast upon its flesh. May the wisdom The Unholy Mother has bestowed upon me bless your mind and cleanse your soul.”
This was insane, they were insane, they had to be.
She’d been there long enough to endure rituals one after another, bonfires and sacrifices and everything in between. But there was distance between herself and them, an inconspicuous chasm that allowed her to blend into the background.
She didn’t realize that there was a ceremony to choose who would be next in line to inherit the title of Seer. There was blinding red lights, voices chanting and women screeching. She’d covered her ears beneath the hood of her cloak to drown out the noise, making it all the less unbearable. Then there was a sudden silence, whispers so quiet it made a mouse seem as though it were shouting. The crimson light shone upon her skin, illuminating her in the path of darkness.
She had been chosen to inherit the title, a member with no standing in this world that they knew.
The people were livid, she could see it in their faces and hear it in the way they regarded her. But there was nothing they could do to delay the inevitable; the ceremony had been announced to commence in six days’ time.
“Is something the matter?” the Seer questioned, looking into her eyes devoid of any emotion. He had once been his own person, someone who led a life of promise, condemned to this wretched fate.
She remained standing there, glossing over memories, wondering where it was she went wrong. Everything she’d ever done had been in the service of higher power, a holy light her parents had preached until their throats were hoarse and knees bruised. She was here because of them, to serve them, make them proud.
How could it have gone so, so wrong?
“No,” her voice was a whisper, the first time she’d spoken in ages. “No, not at all.”
The dagger was in the palm of her hand before she even realized what was happening. From that point forward her memory only served in flashing fragments, blood on her hands and chanting that rose in volume with every drop upon the stone floor.
She was brought to consciousness the next morning with no recollection of having ever fallen asleep. Her eyes burned like the eternal flame that awaited them down below, head pounding to the beat of ceremonial drums. It was then she noticed something wasn’t right, wasn’t as she’d left it. Her body rose from beneath the covers without her having ever willed it to do so, her arms outstretched and legs swinging one in front of the other.
She stood in front of the mirror, forced to observe herself and every little detail she’d never taken the time to indulge until just now. Her rosy, plump cheeks had taken on a new form overnight, lips plump and raven locks pin-straight. When the sun hit her skin just right it was as though she glimmered with diamonds, the rays unveiling a tint of red in her eyes. “It’s not ideal, but I suppose there are worse fates.”
The voice was her own, yet she did not speak.
‘What?’
Her voice, her true voice, seemed to be locked away.
“So my suspicions weren’t misplaced, after all. You truly were sent here to spy on my devotees, weren’t you?”
The Maiden of Malice, Daughter of Hatred and Mother of Sin.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
“You do. I know you do. The time for deception has long departed, child.” Algreth now inhabited her body, the very being who opposed the God she’d placed her true belief in.
The girl had become a mere vessel, a backseat driver to the true leader. The role of Seer had been named dutifully, for the being who awaited them in the afterlife channeled endless knowledge through the flesh.
‘What do you want with me?’
“A body, a devotee, someone to preach the word of my benevolence.”
She scoffed inwardly. ‘And if I refuse?’
“Serving me is the only way I’ll let you continue living. I’ve caught a glimpse into your mind, I know how earnestly you value life.”
If she’d been in control of this form she would’ve gasped, but Algreth wasn’t keen on allowing the woman to take the reins so soon.
“What do they call you, child?”
The girl went to reply, but was stopped.
“It doesn’t matter–that name dies alongside your insolence. From henceforth you will be known as Sarrin, Seer to the Mother Algreth.”
She didn’t know how to respond. But there truly was nothing to say in the first place. She was without a voice, without control. Her every thought belonged to the Mother of Sin.
“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t inhabit this body forever, it remains in your service. Consider my place within you a precaution. You will spread word of my faith. In return, I grant you a fraction of my power.”
The talk of Algreth’s power was far and wide, there were no limitations to her influence. Sarrin had been educated on her every whim for endless months, subjected to the excruciating details of her torment and bountiful sin.
“Do you accept the terms of our oath? Time is of the essence, there are others far more suitable for this position than a mere wretch.”
‘Why have I been chosen then?’
“That’s for me to know and you to ponder.”
Mother Algreth seemed to dissipate from within only a moment later, leaving Sarrin no choice but to continue forth as a meat sack for her petty enjoyment. The girl touched her fingertips to her throat, feeling for it as though it were taken. It remained, though it felt as though it had been stripped away.
“Hi… Hello… I’m…” She tried to remember her name from a time that had now passed her by, searched the intricacies of her memory for a semblance of who she once was. There was nothing there, only a new name to accompany an identity that transcended lifetimes. “My name is Sarrin, Seer to The Mother Algreth.”
Bryanna Bernice is a writer and aspiring author born and raised in the United States. From a young age she found a love of literature and story-telling, her dream to turn a lifelong passion into a career.
Featured image by Niklas Ohlrogge on Unsplash.
