Crack in the Glass

[asentia]

A guttural scream echoed through the halls of the amber quarter, followed by a clatter and hurried footsteps. It was the middle of dinner hour, so no one was nearby to witness a girl called Fran sprint down the corridor into another section of the temple. Blood rushed in her ears and her forearm burned where that son of a bitch had tried to brand her. As she neared another hallway, she slowed down and took a deep breath. After ensuring her sleeves covered any bruises, she waltzed into the cramped chambers that she shared with thirty other oracles.

The few people in the room were either coughing or sleeping. One girl near the door who couldn't have been older than twelve looked like she was choking. Elders flocked around her, eager to drain her blood while it was still warm. Fran kept her steps light to avoid the attention of the Elders and went to her cot in one of the far corners without a backward glance.

The red fever had left half of Fran's village dead. When city guards had rounded up all female survivors under suspicion of using blood magic, Fran had been too weak to resist. And so she ended up in the temple, destined to either die behind city walls or serve as an oracle for the holy kingdom if she recovered from the sickness. Fran wasn't sure what fate was worse.

As the room started to fill with oracles returning from dinner, Fran laid down under her threadbare blanket. Her breath slowed and she began to fall asleep, when an earth-shattering scream wrenched her from her slumber. Fran sighed and opened her eyes, expecting to see someone in shock at the sight of the dying girl near the door.

 

[nova]

Irus spit out a hair and wiped his brow in frustration. Another one ran out? His supervisors were going to have a field day with this- the FOURTH one this week. This one screamed so loud, his ears were still buzzing minutes later.

'The big V', as he was dubbed jokingly by some colleagues millennia ago, threw the branding iron back into the coals and slowly trodded to the desk in the corner. Gingerly lowering himself, he sighed.

"That's now, what-" he paused to whip out his pocket abacus, "another 25% reduction on commissions! Oh, I've been telling Mary I'm too old for these hooligans. I mean, 31? That's almost pushing retirement. But nooo, here I am, instead of cozying up with a nice molly-infused earl grey and a hard copy of erotica horse fiction, chasing these damn oracles who can't stand still long enough to be branded by Her Holiness the Queen and Almighty Powerful Veganist Socialist Princess Goddess King-Slayer Cool Girl of All the Land-" at this, Irus, of course, paused to bow his head and throw up a peace sign in respect, as any good soul in the holy kingdom knows to do.

A sudden clatter disrupted his thoughts, throwing his body into survival mode and making his head whip to the side so hard, he was sure he pulled at least three undiscovered muscles (he made a mental note to badger the healing master next door about that later). Pumping with adrenaline, the big V threw two tiny fists into the air and, ready to defend, grabbed the nearest weapon - the branding iron, still burning white, whose fall from the coals caused the commotion.

"Retirement," Irus whispered before he blacked out on the marble flooring with a resounding THWACK.

 

[Sorano]

Bordat Holmes peered down from her usual spot on the second floor as worshipers streamed into the temple's great dining hall. She was impressed to see a handful of new faces mixed in with the usual congregation as they lined up for steaming trays of rich stews straight from the temple kitchen. Without a doubt, the new "Rapture Redemption" campaign from the upper brass was doing wonders for the turnout.

A dull tingle filled her right arm. Grimacing, Bordat rolled up her sleeve and glanced at the blistered winged eye burned into her forearm. Upon seeing the iris flash red repeatedly, she made a mad dash towards the healing wing of the temple.

By the time she arrived, a young girl had already been placed onto the stone slab in one of the isolation wards. The patient was frothing at the mouth as she struggled against golden coils of light that kept her bound to the ritual table. Bordat squeezed between two priests that were sweating profusely, light pouring from their fingertips to reinforce the flickering restraints.

"Took you long enough, Holmes," one of them panted. "Five vials. And don't you spill a drop this time."

"Don't you know how hard it is to control once it's out of a vessel?" Bordat snapped. Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and focused on the girl's pulse, following the flow of blood in the writhing body. With a jerk of her hand, thin red rivulets began to stream from the patient's body and into a vial held by a waiting cleric. One vial filled. Then another.

As she was filling the fourth vial, Bordat yelped as a stabbing pain shot through her brand, sending blood splattering across the room. She grabbed her arm and recoiled. The iris was jet black.

"BLACK EYE," roared a priest. The clergy members rushed outside, leaving Bordat alone to pray that it was just a false alarm.

 

[ctangerine]

Fourteen year old Elsie slumped against the doorframe as the Elders feasted on her blood before going to bed, satisfied. Oracles filing into the room scarcely paid heed to her, only taking care not to tread in the small scarlet puddles scattered on the floor. One of them stepped on her punctured hand and Elsie's eyes filled with tears, not able to make a sound. They had to think she was dead.

The door shut as the last oracle meandered in. Soon, the torches would blow out for curfew. Elsie took a silent breath. No one noticed her cuts closing, the red rivulets flowing in reverse. When the room fell dark, she got up slowly, stopping for a moment to listen for anyone still awake. All was quiet. She smiled. Snapped her fingers. Pushed open the door. And ran.

Screams ensued as one by one, the Elders burst into flames.

 

[PixelatedLights]

It had been easy to find a girl immune to the red fever, and even easier to find one that wanted revenge. After all, there were so many revenge worthy crimes these days. In the wake of the red feaver, many wanted justice for a stolen sister or a murdered mother. Hundreds of others simply wanted payback for the horrors committed by the Elders on orders of Her Holiness, the Queen of many Hyphenated Titles. Maedb had found little Elsie in Triton, after the guards had dragged the rest of the survivors back to temple to be initiated as oracles. The child's blessing had kept her hidden and safe, but cursed with the sight, Maedb could see how the golden coils of light inside her had started to unravel, pulsing and thrumming in angry discord. After that, it hadn't taken much to convince her to carry out the Cabal's scheme.

Maedb had told her the easy five step plan:

1. Get into the temple through the weekly soup kitchen dinner.
2. Sneak into the Oracle chambers using a stolen uniform
3. Pretend to succumb to the red fever
4. Survive an Elder Feasting
5. Profit (and escape)

Of course those steps had glossed over the need for multiple runic array tattoos, corpus delicti blood poison exposure, a little bit of torture and a teeny tiny human sacrifice, but honestly, it was a simple plan. Maedb was the one who had the difficult task. She had to figure out which one of these idiot clergy members was her informant.

 

[asentia]

Fran gaped in shock as Elders began to light up in blooming red flames. They danced in synchrony, laying waste to the bodies they engulfed. The smell was putrid and it was unlike anything Fran had ever seen before (and she had seen some pretty strange sacrifices). But beyond the flaming Elders was something even stranger - through the doors of the oracles' chambers was the faint shadow of someone running away. It was then that Fran knew this was a chance from the gods to escape - perhaps her holy whoreness herself had ordained this strange occurrence.

Fran grabbed a cloak and slipped past onlooking oracles, all of whom were too scared to attempt to put out the flames. Fran didn't consider grabbing any of them - bet that half of them were pansies raised in the city, who were too soft to think of leaving. On top of that, the Elders' screams were growing fainter by the second as their flesh turned to ash and their souls into dust. Clergy members were definitely on their way , perhaps even the Mother herself would rise from her casket. Fran's heart was racing but she forced herself not to break into a sprint until she was out of the chambers.

Fran pursued the shadow in the distance, which was growing smaller by the second. Based on the lack of a hunched back, they were most likely an oracle. Fran wasn't sure where they were headed but anything was better than rotting in those chambers until she died.

Well, Fran thought anything was better than the chambers until the shadow in the distance disappeared and was replaced with distraught Elders pouring out of the isolation ward. Fran stopped dead in her tracks but they ran past her without a second glance. And against her better judgement, and how pressed she was for time, Fran decided to take a peek to see what in her whoreness' name had made a bunch of clergy members ignore a hot young virgin such as herself.