8
HEVENE: THE BATH OF PURITY
Robin
Vinci, LA
Catahoula County
October 31st, 2014
Present Day
_____________________________
Hevene bursted from the seams of the syllables. As the caverns of the Catacombs shook, granite growling at them, the ghosts of the past swirled around them. Hevene: a mountainous, unchartered terrain, emerged from the darkness. The Bath of Purity was purgatory on earth, the womb of the mothers and fathers of evil, of demons and ghosts to be reconciled with, and as the purple harvest moon swallowed them whole, hands clawed at them. Black, burned, emerging from dark, bubbling waters. As the monsters shrieked, and smoke panned over them, she saw them: the three witches from her dream. Their silhouettes came into focus, their skin bleeding from heretical and pagan carvings, their flesh pulpy with the welts of inverted scars, and as they watched her from above, she stared back. Taking in her scraggly tangle of gray curls, her scarred lips, her emotionlessness.
Annora shrieked as Robin, her own flesh-and-blood, her niece, infiltrated her hellish paradise, and when she hissed the devilʼs tongue – a nest of serpents on the end of her tongue –and in spite, Robin hissed it right back:
ᚹᚪᛃ ᛫ ᚪᚱ ᛫ ᛃᚢ ᛫ ᚻᛁᚱ ᛫ ᚱᚪᛒᚣᚾ᛫
Why are you here, Robin?
ᚤᚮᚢᚡᛂ ᛫ ᚸᚪᛏ ᛫ ᛋᚣᛗ ᛫ ᚾᚣᚱᚡ ᛫ ᛏᚢ ᛫ ᚫᛋᚴ ᛫ ᛗᛁ ᛫ ᚧᚫᛏ ᛫ ᚴᚣᚾᛋᛁᛞᚣᚱᛁᛝ ᛫ ᚤᚮᚢᚱᛂ ᛫ ᚧᚣ ᛫ ᛒᛁᛏᚳ ᛫ ᚻᚢ ᛫ ᚱᚢᚣᚾᛞ ᛫ ᛗᚪᛃ ᛫ ᛚᚪᛃᚠ᛫
Youʼve got some nerve to ask me that.
ᚪᛃ ᛫ ᛏᚩᛚᛞ ᛫ ᛃᚢ ᛫ ᛁᛏ ᛫ ᚹᚣᛋ ᛫ ᚠᛖᛏ᛫
It was fate.
ᚠᛖᛏ ᛫ ᛞᚣᛋᚣᚾᛏ ᛫ ᛏᛖᛚ ᛫ ᛃᚢ ᛫ ᛏᚢ ᛫ ᚸᚩ ᛫ ᛈᛁᛗᛈ ᛫ ᚪᚹᛏ ᛫ ᛃᚩᚱ ᛫ ᛋᛁᛋᛏᚣᚱᛋ ᛫ ᚸᚱᚫᚾᛏᚳᛁᛚᛞᚱᚣᚾ ᛫ ᚠᚩᚱ ᛫ ᛈᚪᚹᚣᚱ᛫
Fate doesnʼt tell you to go pimp out your sisterʼs grandchildren for power.
ᚪᛃ ᛫ ᚹᚩᚾᛏ ᛫ ᚹᚩᚱᚾ ᛫ ᛃᚢ ᛫ ᚣᚸᛖᚾ ᛫ ᚹᚪᛃ ᛫ ᚪᚱ ᛫ ᛃᚢ ᛫ ᚻᛁᚱ ᛫ ᛁᚠ ᛫ ᛃᚢ ᛫ ᛞᚩᚾᛏ ᛫ ᚫᚾᛋᚣᚱ ᛫ ᛗᛁ ᛫ ᚪᛃ ᛫ ᚹᛁᛚ ᛫ ᛋᛘᛁᛐᛂ ᛫ ᛒᚩᚦ ᛫ ᛃᚢ ᛫ ᚫᚾᛞ ᛫ ᛃᚩᚱ ᛫ ᚠᚱᛖᚾᛞ ᛫ ᛏᚢ ᛫ ᚴᛁᛝᛞᚣᛗ ᛫ ᚴᚣᛗ᛫
I wonʼt warn you again. Why are you here? If you donʼt answer me, I will smite both you and your friend to kingdom come.
Robin rose to her feet. As Annora and Robin faced off – Annora high in the clouds, Robin in the hells below – Robin watched her great auntʼs eyes grow into a dark, sinistral black like the night of Hevene, swallowing her pupil whole and rimming the edge red. Loud and thunderous. Anger came in hot, white lashes. Her blood boiled. Her veins sang. And one day, one day, sheʼd taste her blood like she tasted Reina Santiagoʼs.
ᚻᚢ ᛫ ᚧᚣ ᛫ ᚠᚣᚴ ᛫ ᛞᚢ ᛫ ᛃᚢ ᛫ ᚦᛁᛝᚴ ᛫ ᛃᚢ ᛫ ᚪᚱ᛫
Who the f*ck do you think you are?
"I want Reina Santiago, but I know you wonʼt hand her over, so let me make one thing abundantly clear."
She smiled, eyes a murderous red, and slowly reeled in her anger; her bones snapping back into her place, the Wolf that was once ready to be released and ready to raise hell tucked away for safe keeping.
"Thank you so much for showing your face to me again after all these years. Itʼs going to make it that much sweeter when I destroy you."
Robin braced herself when Annora and the three witches chanted:
˙ǝʇɹǝnɯ uɐpnlɐs sopoʇ uǝɐɔ sᴉǝs sol opuɐnɔ ⅄
˙lɐuᴉɟ oʇuǝᴉlɐ un uoɔ oʇuǝɯɐɹnɾ un ǝuǝᴉʇuɐɯ ɐllƎ
˙opɐuᴉsǝsɐ ɐǝs oqol lǝ ǝnb ɐʇsɐɥ olqɐᴉp lǝp ɐplɐdsǝ ɐl uƎ
˙sɐíp sol sopoʇ ɹɐuᴉɯɹǝʇ ɐɹɐd ɐʇɔǝɟɹǝd ɐǝuíl ɐu∩
˙oɥɔǝɹǝp ɐlǝnʌ ɐllǝ olqɐᴉp lǝp ǝʇɹosuoɔ ɐu∩
˙ǝɔǝɹɔ ʎ ɥʇᴉlᴉ˥ ǝp ɐɔɹɐW ɐl ɐʌǝll ɐllƎ
˙opunɯ ǝʇsǝ ɹod olos ɐɾɐᴉʌ ǝnb lƎ
˙ɐpɐɯɐll ɐl ɐ uáɹǝpuodsǝɹ oɹǝpɐʇɐɯ lǝ ʎ ǝɹƃuɐs ɐ˥
˙áɹǝɐɔ opunɯ lǝ ɐʇuǝɯɹoʇ ɐl ɐ oᴉpǝs∀
"WHAT THE–"