I clench my teeth at the thought and blink away tears. “I understand.”
Brahm rubs my back and pecks my lips. After stroking his face, I push my hands against the floor to stand, but Bergot grabs my wrist.
“Wait, we will make her swear on an oath of blood to forbid her from breaking these promises.” Bergot turns her head to Hexegot. “Slice your palm now.”
Hexegot glides to her table and grabs a knife. Cutting into her palm through the white wrappings, her vile, black blood drips onto the floor.
“Gisela, when you are ready, do the same.”
I take a deep breath and turn to Brahm, whose face is strained from holding back tears. Heartsick, I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my forehead against his.
“I love you, Brahm. If you still love me when all of this is over, I promise to be your wife. We’ll be together always and have a houseful of children,” I whisper with a little giggle. “Will you help Bergot and fight for me?”
“Anything…for…you…Freckles,” Brahm squeaks out between breaths. He runs his fingers through my hair and steadies his body. “As long as you promise to fight from within.”
“I will.”
“You are strong, brave, and too fucking stubborn to let her win.” His words give me strength. “I believe in you, my goddess.”
Brahm kisses my lips hard, grabbing the hair at the back of my head. With desperation, I squeeze him tight as I kiss him back with all my might.
“Lovely. Let’s get on with it,” Albert says, laughing.
“It’s now or never, Gisela.” Hexegot extends her blood-wet palm.
Bergot nods at me, and I hold up Wil’s dagger. With Brahm’s hand on my back, I press the blade against the skin of my palm and slice. Blood drips down my hand, but the sting from the cut is nothing compared to the pain in my heart.
“Keep this for me.” I hand the dagger to Brahm and give him one last kiss before turning to Bergot.
She releases her protection charm as I swing my right arm out to grasp Hexegot’s bloody hand. An icy and agonizing sensation tingles through my veins as the oath sets in. Albert steps close to my side, and I shudder from his touch. Hexegot squeezes my hand with a firm grip.
“Albert,” the witch-goddess says, gesturing toward Brahm and Bergot, “escort these two from my sanctuary. We must begin the ritual.”
“With all due respect, my Goddess, I would like for him to watch.” Albert nearly spits, staring at Brahm.
“Fine, my pet. Get my precious one prepared on the altar.”
“With pleasure.”
Albert grabs my upper arm and leads me to the slab. With a ravenous look on his face, he pushes my chest and forces me to lie down. As soon as my feet are on the altar, thorny vines twist around my wrists and ankles, holding me in place. Panic sets in and my breaths turn into erratic gasps for air.
I turn my head toward Brahm, who’s straining to hold back tears and covering his mouth with his hands. We maintain eye contact until Albert ties a blindfold around my head.
I hope I’m strong enough for this.
The Ritual: Brahm
I HOPE MY HEART’S STRONG ENOUGH for this. My fair Freckles lies upon the altar within the temple of bones. Thorny vines snake around my love’s pale wrists and ankles, holding her in place. Gisela’s beautiful red curls cascade down the edge of the slab. The silky, black blindfold covers my favorite set of eyes in the entire world. Those emeralds which pierce through my heart will now have another, darker soul peering through them.
My heartache is excruciating. After loving her for all these years, I finally got to be with Gisela, only to have to let her go so soon.
Although her chest rises and falls with a wild rhythm, Gisela doesn’t scream or attempt to stop the ritual. She’s the bravest woman—or demigoddess—I’ve ever known.
When I met Gisela, she was a courageous and fierce young girl. She’d attempt the most dangerous of stunts to make her brother laugh—all the while never knowing she was stealing my heart.
Gisela often told me my heart line was the strongest she’d ever seen when she would read palms by the creek. I can still feel her fingers tickling my palm as she traced my lines. Even then, she could make my heart flutter like a bird caged inside my chest.
I suppose I was never a true worshipper of Bergot. Deep down, I knew Gisela was my goddess. Offering her crystals, dancing with her under the full moon, and humming tunes into her ears were truly rituals I performed for her.
Although I was terribly jealous of her boyfriends—those who had the pleasure of kissing Gisela’s beautiful lips before I did—I knew I had to let her walk her own path. I could only pray that someday our paths would cross again. Now I pray our short journey along the path of ashes wasn’t my only chance.
I desire to run to Gisela, take her down from the altar, and carry her home with me. But I cannot. She is sacrificing herself for something much larger than either of us. Being this completely helpless is torture. I must keep reminding myself that we have a responsibility to protect our loved ones in the valley.
After a few incantations, Hexegot presses her finger against the top of a glass vial, turning it over. She dabs the perfumed oils on Gisela’s forehead, neck, chest, wrists, and ankles. Trading the bottle with Albert for the thurible, Hexegot swings heavily scented incense above Gisela’s body. Bergot pats my back as Hexegot removes Gisela’s floral crown and tosses it to the skull-lined floor.
I crawl to retrieve the crown and clutch it against my chest. Closing my eyes, I picture Gisela’s face the moment I gave this to her. Her smile was adorable, and the way she looked at me was something dreams are made of. I will treasure this simple floral crown along with her dagger until the day I can return them to her.
“Any more movements from you, and I might have to break my oath,” Hexegot’s voice bellows inside the temple of bones, making me shudder down to my marrow.
I shuffle back toward Bergot. With a cracking sound of broken bones, Hexegot lifts the crown from her head and places it on Gisela’s. She also tugs the scepter from her chest and rests it inside Gisela’s palm. Albert holds out a branch of hazel that Hexegot snatches and places on top of Gisela.
“The candles,” Hexegot says.
Albert places white candles on each side of Gisela’s body and lights them. I don’t appreciate how he looks at her and glare at him with all my might. With the last candle in-hand, Albert pushes the hem of Gisela’s dress up between her thighs. When he places the candle between her legs, Albert lifts his head and smirks at me. The muscles in my shoulders tighten, and Bergot clasps her long fingers around my forearm, reminding me I must stay calm.
Hexegot leans over Gisela’s face and whispers. The candlelight flickers as her voice grows louder. Her incoherent words force a gust of wind to swirl through the temple, and the earth begins to shake. The bones of the sanctuary rattle in a rising crescendo. Hexegot gives one final shout and throws her head back, arching her spine. All the candles burn out. There is nothing but silence and darkness.
The witch-goddess bursts into flames. Her wrappings crackle and turn into flying, white-hot ashes. When her entire body turns to smoke, Hexegot swirls into the air and down toward Gisela. The entire length of smoke enters Gisela’s mouth and causes her chest to rise. With every breath she takes the flicker of the candles returns, illuminating the temple once more.