The Council

“The Council has decreed. And so it shall be.” Those were the last words that my mother ever heard.

And I have to hear them every day. Not just hear them, but recite the latter half of the phrase, “and so it shall be”, like a prayer. To refuse would mean my head too. They don’t just punish you for the words you say anymore, but for the ones you don’t say. 

Had I been asked to make the blood link like my mother, I don’t know what I would have done. Probably died like her. But it hadn’t come to that. I was too young, at the time, to lead a coven. So instead I just recited the words to my new High Sorceress, through tears, and I’ve done so ever since.

I have to be sure to blend in, not stand out. It’s the key to survival. If I’m too enthusiastic in my worship of the Council or show great ability, I could get tapped to lead a coven. Then I’d have to make my choice: the blood link or death. If I show any signs of disobedience, I’d be questioned. People would remember my mother. They might think I’d be inclined to rebel as well. That would mean certain death. So I strike the perfect balance and bide my time. 

I attend my coven meetings daily, under the pretense of receiving updates from the Council. But we all know what these meetings really are…a chance for the Council to check in on all of us. They want to make sure we are dutiful witches, still willing to betray our heritage and reply with the proper words of obedience. 

While my words are dictated and my actions are observed, my thoughts are still my own, at least. I can hate the Council and curse them in my head for my mother’s death, and so many others, while hearing their orders and agreeing “and so it shall be”.

I take comfort in the fact that, despite their Eyes, they know nothing of the Resistance.

Dierck and I have been cautious over the years, allowing few into our inner circle. To unwisely trust someone would mean all our deaths and, worse than that, no hope left against the Council. We are the only ones left willing and able to stand against them.

We’ve been recruiting witches and hoarding magic since the Unifying, as the Council calls it. It would be more aptly called “The Conquest”. The Resistance is meeting again tonight, as it does every night before a full moon. 

I take a long route through back lanes to the meeting location, circling back to ensure I’m not followed. I slip out of town and make my way to a large cave deep in the woods that separate the neighboring towns. I step into the center of the pitch dark cavern.

I let out a low whistle and eight other whistles answer me in succession. We wait in silence and darkness for the others. Finally, when the last whistle echoes through the cavern, flames spark to life in each witch’s palm. We shoot the flames into the pile of wood in the center of the cave, causing a bonfire to flare to life. We gather around the fire, hugging and chatting for a moment before we move onto more serious matters. 

“Sisters and Brothers, I would like to go first, if I may,” Dametria, a witch from the northern town of Stormspire, says.

We nod our assent, and she steps forward.

“This will be my last meeting with the Resistance. I’ve been chosen to become High Sorceress.”

Troubled murmurs fill the cave. We’ve never had a member of the Resistance chosen before. We take pains to ensure we don’t.

“How did this happen?” Another witch vocalizes my own thoughts.

“As you know, Stormspire was hit hard during the Unifying. Our most powerful witches chose death rather than the blood link. Even with the siphoning of my power, I’m still considered above average. The Council moved quickly to appoint a new High Sorceress, and it appears they couldn’t find anyone better in that timeframe.”

Voices rise to question what Dametria will do.

“There’s more,” she interrupts. “We were told that our High Sorceress stepped down, but I could tell from the hurry to fill the position, that something was off. Another witch in my coven confided in me that the High Sorceress fled. The High Sorceress asked her to flee too, but wouldn’t say where they were going. She refused to go, but also didn’t turn her in. She assumed that the High Sorceress was going to the human realm, which would be a worse fate than living under the Council.”

This time Dametria’s revelation is met with quiet contemplation. None of us dare to voice hope that there are others out there like us, that there is a place to flee.

“I don’t know what it all means,” Dametria says. “The witch could be right, the High Sorceress likely decided to take her chances in the human realm. We’ve not heard hint of any other resistance efforts in all this time.”

Many of the witches nod.

“But severing the blood link alone would have killed the High Sorceress. She had to have help,” another witch says. “It would have taken planning. They would need to flee right away, since the Council would be alerted to the break in the link immediately.”

“The more pressing problem is what you will do, Dametria,” Dierck speaks up. 

Dierck is a member of the male coven in our town. We have been friends since we were children. He helped me start The Resistance after both our parents refused the blood link and were murdered by the Council. 

“I haven’t decided,” Dametria replies. “I know it means death to refuse, but the dishonor of taking the blood link feels worse somehow. To be linked to those monsters, to be their Eyes, spying on my own coven with no way to stop them from using my eyes to see everything around me…” She shivered. “Either way, I cannot come back here or speak with any of you. I can’t risk them entering my eyes while we are together.”

“We have to stop this! Let’s make our move before the blood link ceremony. We’ve been storing our power. Maybe it’s time to put it to use,” one of the witches calls out.

I speak up this time, fixing Dametria with a sympathetic look. “The blood link ceremony will take place with the new moon. That’s two days’ time. I’m sorry, but we couldn’t possibly be ready by then.”

Dametria nods. She already knew this.

“But we’ve got to do something,” the outspoken witch continues. “We can’t wait forever. When will be the right time to act? How many witches will die first?”

The sound of feet shifting on the stone mingles with murmurs of agreement. They are tired of secret meetings in the dark, while our covens are suffering. I am too.

I look to Dierck. He can read my every glance. He nods. 

I step forward, so my face is lit by the glow of the bonfire. “Those of you that have possession of a crystal, bring it to our next meeting. We will assess our stores of power and form a plan.”

…

What do you think of the story so far? Would you take the blood link if you were Dametria? Let us know in the comments. Click here to find out what the Resistance will do next. If you would like to fuel future story writing, you can buy us a coffee.

Thanks so much for reading!

-Clever & WTF