Interlude

Council of Witches

Megiddo National Park, Jezreel Valley, Megiddo, Israel

H esteia stared at the ruins that made up Megiddo National Park. The blazing Israeli sun shone high overhead while they stood baking beneath it in silence. They had spent the last fourteen hours traveling, using the chaos portals that naturally occurred within each home—thanks to the high saturation of magic in those places—to travel. As they did so, other coven elders and high priestesses joined them in their travels until finally, almost 500 of them descended upon Megiddo. The birthplace of witches. The home of the Witches Council.

Sweet Selene, the whole thing was so pretentious it made her want to vomit. “It’s not even the real birthplace of witches,” she mumbled to Thea. “The witch of Endor was just a biblical fairytale.”

With a patient smile, Thea nodded. “I know, my love.” Having been long subject to this particular rant, she was well used to it.

“And they always make us go through those godsforsaken chaos portals that take forever when there’s a perfectly good Council-sanctioned portal in the gathering chamber. But nooooo.” She stomped her foot, well aware that she was acting like a child, then lightly pouted for good measure. “It can only be used to travel from the chambers not to the chambers.”

“Hesteia, you know why—” Thea started, but her wife cut her off.

“I know it’s because of what happened the last time they let it be used as an entry too,” Hesteia grumbled. “But it still annoys me.”

“Just a wild stab in the dark.” Akna, the Chugach Coven’s High Priestess, swept over. In the bright light, her golden-brown eyes sparkled with mirth at Hesteia’s fit of temper. “Is it possible, dear sister, that you’re annoyed not at the gathering location but because you’ve been traveling for so long?”

Hesteia gritted her teeth. “Extremely possible.” She raised her voice. “What are we waiting for, sisters? It’s time to descend—” Dropped her voice. “Into the hellmouth.” Next to her, Thea choked in laughter, rubbing her lover’s back in reassuring circles.

The collection of witches began their descent into the ruins. The oldest among them went down the roughly hewn stairs first with the youngest waiting behind them. Their group was diverse with witches from Oceania—who were extremely removed from society and unbelievably traditional—to a “cohort” from Los Angeles who lived in townhomes built in a greenspace and married non-witches. For all their differences, all of the elders gathered there believed in witchkind.

Even with their similarities, though, their allegiance to the long-held Council prophecies varied wildly. Many of the newer generations believed they were legends or metaphorical—the mythology of witches, really—while a small but vocal contingent of the powerful, older witches believed that they were prophetic and must be followed to the letter. All in all, it made for an interesting dynamic when a decent portion of their membership believed that it was time for the extermination of humankind while the others thought those members were overly literal, homicidal, and prepared to violate the witches’ creed of nonviolence at a moment’s notice. Given the purpose of the summons they had all received, there was no way this meeting of the minds was going to be anything other than deeply uncomfortable.

With all coven members finally in the ruins, Hesteia led them quickly to the staircase leading to the aqueduct tunnels before they could draw attention. Not only were there almost 500 of them, ranging in age from mid-thirties to wizened old crone, but some of their members were in unconventional clothing. Although the crop tops and high-waisted shorts of the Onzo-Borrego Coven were odd at a holy site, that wasn't even the most outlandish garb of the group. The wizened crones among them wore cloaks embroidered with metallic threads that glittered with magic. It was crucial that they not draw any more attention than necessary when getting to the Council chambers, but the sheer size of their group and the appearance of their members made it difficult to keep a low profile.

Hesteia escorted the first ten elders down, pretending that she was a tour guide so as not to draw attention. Once in the tunnels, she walked halfway down the broad path before turning to the wall and sketching a quick series of runes along the stone. The completed etchings flared briefly, bright flame in the dreary tunnels, before the wall seemingly fell away, revealing yet another tunnel. Unlike the one in which they currently stood, it one wasn’t lit or paved, only packed dirt tracking into the darkness. One hand extended, Hesteia summoned a series of fiery orbs that lingered along the ceiling, lighting the way for the witches now traveling along the tunnel’s length.

Dozens of trips later, Hesteia found herself alone in front of the tunnel entrance. She was tired, sweaty, and irritated and not just because of her disheveled appearance. Many of the elders were quite vocal about their thoughts on the witches’ role as apocalyptic harbingers, and the more traditional their beliefs, the louder they got. Some of them were almost gleeful at the idea of wiping out humanity. She shook her head, her sweat-soaked braids clinging to her cheeks. Frustrated and concerned was certainly a fantastic way to approach not only the other Council elders but the Council Judiciary as well.

After adjusting her dress and realizing that there was no way to fix her hair, she inverted the wards, drawing the magical entry closed behind her. She walked slowly down the tunnel, an ominous feeling thrumming in her veins. Her heart was pounding. Gods, she felt bad about this. The summons that brought her here made her skin crawl. Now that she was standing on the precipice of this discussion, all she wanted to do was turn and run. Out of this tunnel. Out of this cursed set of ruins. But her love and several of her sisters were in the gathering chambers, and she couldn’t—no, she wouldn’t , she corrected herself—leave them behind to the jackals.

It was with this thought in mind that she took her final step into the Council gathering chambers. The room was massive, easily the size of a human football field, and carved deep underneath the historic site; whether it was through magic or human hands, she didn’t know. Long, low wooden benches surrounded the outside edge of the cavern, leaving a wide space in the center for the elders to gather or, during discussions, present their case. At the front of the room was a long table of black wood with three large chairs behind it. Orbs similar to those that lined her coven’s forest home hung overhead, shimmering bright white light over the room and the women gathered in it.

Many of the elders hadn’t yet taken seats on the benches, instead choosing to cluster in the room’s open center. The hair along Hesteia’s neck rose the instant she stepped into the chamber proper. The witches near the back turned to greet her, but she stepped past them quickly, looking desperately for Thea and her coven. That feeling of unease only grew as she wandered through the witches, searching desperately for her love’s tawny mane of hair. Finally, she caught sight of Thea and rushed towards her.

Startled by her wife's sudden appearance, Thea jumped. “What’s wrong, love?” She rested her palm on Hesteia’s cheek and drew her in, nestling into her wife. “Are you alright?" Her eyes darted around wildly, scanning the chambers for anything suspicious. “Is something amiss?”

“I feel… wrong. I’m jumping at shadows and sounds. I feel like something… like we’re in danger here, Thea.” Hesteia pressed her body against Thea’s. “Something is very wrong.”

Beside them, Chloe, Evie’s adopted mother, spoke quietly, low enough that she wouldn’t draw attention from the witches not associated with their coven. “I feel the same. Like something isn’t right. Should we leave?” Her hazel eyes were wide with concern; when Hesteia glanced around at the other Barataria Coven elders, she saw the same look on every one of their faces.

“Do you all feel like this?” To a one, they all nodded. Hesteia winced. She had no idea how to respond as her wife and sisters stared at her like she would have the answer. Gods, she wished Cassandra was here; she would be able to determine whether this sinking feeling had any basis in the potential future. “I don’t—” She never had the chance to finish that thought.

“Sisters!” A loud voice emanated from the front of the cavernous room. “Please take your seats so we can begin the Council meeting.”

Thea grasped Hesteia’s hand, drawing her after the other Barataria Coven elders to take a seat at one of the benches surrounding them. Chaos reigned as witches from all over the world jostled for a place to sit. Once everyone was seated, all eyes turned to the front of the room where the Witches’ Council Judiciary had filed in.

The Judiciary were the three powerful witches who oversaw the Council and acted as mediators when the Council couldn’t reach a decision on the issues. Its members sat primly at the high table; in front of the woman seated at either end of the table sat a large copper basin. To the left was Circe, a beautiful enchantress garbed in an ocean blue tunic with hair the color of seafoam. Around her arms wove gold cuffs, engraved with scenes of the sun rising and setting over water. Best known for penalizing those who rejected her advances with death or transfiguration, Circe’s thought on any subject was anybody’s guess. She was unpredictable and self-centered, which were a truly alarming combination.

In the throne seated at the table’s right end, Medea held court, her hair golden in the lights flickering overhead. The golden fleece itself, stolen from her husband’s corpse after she murdered him, his mistress, and their children, was draped over her shoulders like a cloak, parting over her cleavage to reveal a fitted but severe black dress. She was a force of nature and absolutely terrifying, her decisions often severe, brutal, and bloody.

And, centered in between them, sat Hecate. The goddess of witches herself whose existence was a closely held secret of the Witches’ Council and the coven elders who sat on it.

Hecate was a stunning woman, which wasn’t surprising for a goddess, but her beauty tread that fine line between light and dark, a vast contradiction in every way. Her purple-tinged raven-hair flowed elegantly over her shoulders, but it had small bone fragments and tiny bird skulls nestled in it with twine. Her beautiful eyes were a violet hue so intense it was almost black, so dark it almost hurt to look at them, but madness roiled in their depths. Draped around her throat sat a delicate necklace of three keys, but they were carved from bone. As most gods did over their immortal lives, she had updated her wardrobe to something both elegant and edgy. Now, she wore an all-black outfit topped by a leather jacket with elbow-length sleeves, which revealed her forearm tattoo of two black dogs sitting on a dark road. Not many knew that these were her familiars, incorporated into a more modern medium where they would be safe but called to her side at a second’s notice.

It was Hecate’s voice that echoed around them, a mellifluous sound that somehow still managed to be discordant. “Blessed be, sisters.”

“Blessed be, Goddess,” chorused back to her.

“It has come to my attention that the covens believe there may be a return of the old gods, which would allegedly trigger our darkest and most important prophecy. At the request of the Chugach Coven—” She fluttered her hand in Akna’s direction where she sat near Hesteia. “We are meeting today to discuss whether Evie of the Barataria Coven and Cole Aidoneus are the old gods prophesied about many millennia ago by the Oracle at Delphi. If we believe that they are, we must then identify the proper course of action to take. Many of you know Evie as the young witch abandoned in Louisiana in the United States who was found next to her mother’s corpse and a three-headed dog; this Council was last convened to address the question of whether the girl may be raised with the witches, even though the Barataria Coven’s seer saw that she was responsible for her mother’s death. As you all know, certain members of the Council and this judiciary strongly opposed allowing the coven to take her in, some even going so far as to advocate killing her. In deference to those voices, the Council required that the girl undergo certain procedures to ensure that she would not be a danger to future generations. We also required her to undergo magical attempts to recover her memories, both of this and past lives. To the best of our knowledge, those attempts failed.” Hecate paused, her dark eyes skimming the crowd. “I would now request the testimony of Hesteia of the Barataria Coven to relay the events that bring us here today.”

Hesteia stood, Thea’s hand falling away from her as she did, and strode to the center of the room. “Thank you, Mother of Witches.” She drew a deep breath and then shared every moment of the last week. Evie’s unexpected absence. The earthquakes. Their contacting other covens to see if anyone knew what was happening. Evie’s return with unexpected knowledge of her past. The destruction of their clearing’s protective barrier by Cole Aidoneus, who was searching for Evie, and his protectiveness of and closeness to her. His proclamation of Evie’s own death magic. Evie’s abandonment of the coven and subsequent summoning of the trees to allow her and Cole to escape. Everything. The Judiciary and other Coven elders stopped her often to ask questions, which she answered to the best of her ability. By the time she finished, hours later, her throat was raw, and she was barely able to stand anymore.

“Hesteia, you have done well," Hecate said, gesturing her to a bench. "Please be seated and have a drink.”

Hesteia crossed back to Thea, who promptly passed her a jug of water. She drank deeply as Hecate continued.

“Now,” Hecate said. “To save time, I will confirm that Aidoneus was the mortal name of the god Hades and is considered a family name of sorts. Are there any others who would like to provide testimony, or shall we move to discussion?”

An older witch from one of the Oceania covens stood, walking haughtily to the center of the room. “I am Maia of the Cook Islands Coven. Prior to this, we have never heard of any being whose magical source is death. On its own, having two practitioners with death magic is improbable. For those two beings to be seemingly connected to each other seems all but impossible. When you consider this man’s family name, it is all but certain that he is somehow the returned king of the Underworld.” A loud cry of agreement rose from many of those sitting in the circle. “And this girl, this Evie —” she spat out Evie’s name like it left a bad taste in her mouth. “—is clearly his queen. If we had only left her to the elements as many of us in this Council voted to do when you found her, we might never have had to deal with this question.”

Hesteia leapt to her feet along with the other Barataria Coven elders. Chloe, who was all but snarling at the inference that her adopted child should have been left behind, was the first to speak, though. “She was a child!” she snapped at Maia. “It would have been certain death!”

Maia folded her arms across her chest. “And that cost would have been well worth potentially avoiding this danger.”

“You’re talking about an infant’s life!” Hesteia shouted. “An ye who harm none, do what ye will. Or have you forgotten our creed of nonviolence?”

Eyes cold, Maia answered, “That creed of nonviolence doesn’t apply to murderers.”

Hesteia saw red. She was preparing to launch herself at Maia when she felt a forceful push to her chest that knocked her and her sisters back onto the bench.

In the center of the room, Maia was silent. Her hands clutched her throat, eyes bugging from her head. A small shuffle of noise filled the room as hundreds of witches turned to look towards the high table.

Standing at the high table, awe-inspiring and horrible, was Hecate. Shadows swirled around her, practically obscuring the floating light orbs behind her. Her eyes blazed with a furious light and, pacing in front of the high table, were two enormous black dogs, fur bristling with menace. When the goddess did speak, her voice was unexpectedly breathy, eerie in its fluidity, but it carried across the chambers with ease. “I understand that tempers are high regarding this matter, but I will not tolerate incivility. You would all do well to remember that. Maia, I recommend that you remember that you are speaking of one of our brethren and to not do so quite so callously. And, Barataria elders—” she turned to them, her gaze softening. “I understand that you are upset and have a personal interest in the witch in question, but this is not the appropriate forum for a shouting match. No matter how out of line other coven members may be.”

Hesteia nodded her head slightly to indicate her understanding, fingers clenched around Thea’s hand.

Maia’s own fingers were now scratching at anything she could reach, including her own throat, deep welts appearing as she raked her fingernails down her neck in an effort to get air back into her lugs. She was gasping to no effect, and her face was turning red as she struggled for air. One of her own coven members screamed at Hecate, “Stop it, please, you’re killing her!”

Hecate’s eyes flashed at the witch. “I never wish for the death of one of my children, but if I must allow it to prove my point, I will. All witches are welcome in this space, both to speak and give counsel. But if you ever raise your voice to me again, young witch, I will burn you to the ground with your own magic and walk through the ashes. Do I make myself clear?”

Properly chastened, the young witch nodded her head deferentially.

“Now, now, child. You were so willing to speak up before. You must do so once more.” The magic of their goddess, the Mother of Witches, roiling through the room was almost tangible. It was truly a fearsome thing, more so because Hecate did not exercise malice with regularity.

“I—I understand, Hecate.” Her voice trembled but still made its way to Hecate. “I apologize for my outburst.”

“I accept your apology, young witch.” The shadows emanating from Hecate vanished almost like they had never been there. She looked over the room with a fond smile on her face before her gaze fell upon Maia, whose face had gone from the red of immediate suffocation to the delicate shade of blue preceding death. Her hands were lax at her sides. The smile fell from Hecate’s face, replaced by a look of stern irritation. “As for you, Maia, I will allow you to breathe once more if you agree to be civil.”

Maia, too air deprived to do much else, flopped her head forward, her hair draping across her face. With a single blink, Hecate released her hold on Maia. The Cook Islands witch dropped to her knees, gasping.

The silence following the show of power spoke volumes. Hecate allowed it to sit for several minutes, witches twitching in discomfort the longer the uncomfortable quiet went on. Finally, with a smug expression on her face, she broke the silence. “Now, we must determine whether these individuals are the old gods. If they are not, then our inquiry ends here.”

Ignoring the near death that had nearly just occurred, Circle glanced up lazily from where she sat at the Judiciary table twirling strands of coral-colored magic between her fingers. “It appears that we might be able to reach a consensus regarding whether the Aidoneus man and the witch are the old gods.” With a slight shrug, she carelessly advised, “If it does not offend, Hecate, I would recommend that we cast our lots on this issue.”

Hecate pursed her lips. “Circe, I believe you may have a point. My daughters, at this time, you may cast your coven’s representative vote as to whether the prophesied old gods have returned. You will have twenty-four hours to do so. Pease consider the issue carefully and weigh all potential evidence fairly and impartially. Only cast your vote once your coven elders have achieved a majority consensus on the matter. Covens, send a blue key to rest in the bowl on Circe’s side of the table if you believe that these people are the old gods. Send a red key to rest in the bowl on Medea’s side of the table if you believe that they are not. Please return to your resting places to reach a decision. If we do not have your vote by the end of the twenty-four hours, your coven’s vote will not be considered. If we receive all votes before the end of the allotted time, we will summon you to the chambers at once.” With a clap of her hands, she vanished in a cloud of shadows, leaving the Judiciary members and Coven elders alone in the chambers.

Hesteia, Thea, Bernadette, Chloe, and Adelaide fell into lock step alongside the others, departing the chambers for the day. The covens had twenty-four hours to issue their votes. It took less than three before they received the summons bidding them to return.

Hesteia and the other Barataria Coven elders trailed into the chamber alongside the hundreds of other witches. After a long, emotional day, she wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and sleep for a year. Instead, she was heading back into the cavern by cover of nightfall while the moon was high in the sky. At this point, they had been awake for almost two days, thanks to the inconsistency of chaos portals and the hours of discussion about the first decision of the prophecy

At the head of the room, Hecate, Medea, and Circe sat, their faces inscrutable as they waited for everyone to take their seats. Although before the mood had been tense, now it was unbearable, and it seemed like everyone felt the shift because their actions were abrupt and quiet. There was no low buzz of talking this time. Everyone was determined to begin and wanted no distractions.

“My daughters.” Hecate spread her hands. “All covens have cast their votes. The result was unanimous so there is no need for the Judiciary to cast its own ballets to break a tie.”

A deathly hush smothered the room. It had been quiet before; now, there no sound of any kind broke the silence.

“The Council has overwhelmingly voted that Evie of the Barataria Coven and Cole Aidoneus are the old gods returned.” Hecate placed her hands on the table in front of her and leaned forward. “At this time, we will discuss what our next steps must be and then put that issue to a vote.”