It was sundown, and the sky was the colour of blood. The waves thrashed against the rocks on Emerald beach, and if you really listened, you could hear the bellowing call of the sea pulling you slowly into its spell. Underneath the willow tree by the rocks was a passage to limbo- only the members of the circle could enter. Those with the gift could hear their chants deep in the night, especially on days like these.
The day of the crimson moon.
Layla, the matron of the Rowan circle, walked out of the tunnel and up to the beach, close enough that the waves splashed against her bare feet, drenching the bottom of her beautiful green dress. She stared far past the ocean into the horizon, her mind miles away.
"Matron," Martha Croft greeted from beside her. Layla turned to the black-haired countess and dipped in a slight bow.
"Lady Croft."
Layla observed the mother of the otherworldly vampires as her eyes darted about the beach with unease. The Crofts were Rebrook's legacy- one of the families that survived the Great Divide. Outside the Rowan circle and the town council, no one ever encountered them. They were merely a name existing in the shadows of the Slippery Abyss.
"We're ready to begin the ritual," Layla said. Martha turned to her with those cold, soul-draining eyes. Her disdain for Lady Croft sprung from Martha's need to refer to her as a bottom feeder. It bothered her more than she could bear but in truth, there was nothing to do about it. She really was an eighth regeneration Blackwood witch.
"Why did you ask to speak with me then?"
Layla sighed, her mind flapped about like the waves before them. As matron of the Rowan circle, her allegiance to the council came before her allegiance to a sister of the craft.
"Do not waste my time, Blackwood," Martha warned with a sly smile.
Layla nodded. "There's been a development," she began. No response came from the Croft. "An Oriental witch may have entered the city, Lady Croft. The Dome let her through weeks ago. That was the disturbance the circle and council sensed."
The news did not appear to falter Martha. For someone who survived the original Oriental witches and knew firsthand what they were capable of, she was taking the news quite well.
"It's quite odd, don't you think? That lineage was wiped out during the Great Divide. If really she is a descendant of that line, then she's trouble," Layla continued.
"Regardless of who she may be, there are rules to be followed in Rebrook. Mystics cannot enter unless the council wills it. It is the law," Martha intoned. "This mystic neither applied to nor sent words to the council but she showed up, anyway?"
Layla nodded. Mystics couldn't enter Rebrook without the Rowan Circle, it was the law. First, they send an application which is decided upon by the council, then the verdict comes. Those who were refused but tried to enter were thrown out by the city cloak. Without the magic of The Circle, it was impossible... until now.
"I highly doubt that she is who you think she is. The Orientals were all removed. Find out who this imposter is and how she entered without permission and let me know." She was gone before Layla could blink or respond.
She turned back to the ocean and inhaled the serenity of it. If an Oriental really had escaped the carnage and was back to Rebrook, the Rowan circle alone couldn't remove her. The Orientals were ancestors to them. Even if they could, it was against their edicts to stand against a fellow sister of the craft... it would take all the witches in Rebrook and the ones North of Tamor to go against an Oriental. Did Martha not know that? Why was she so unbothered about it?
"Matron." Camilla touched her shoulder, snapping her out of her thoughts. Layla turned to the youngest of the Rowan witches with a smile. "It is time."
Layla smiled. "Let us begin." Camilla nodded and hurried back down the tunnel. Layla stole a glance at the red sky, straightened her dress, and followed after Camilla into limbo.