The God Child

“Somnia abyssi invocamus ut nobis ostendat veritatem. We call upon the dreams of the deep to show us the truth.”

The shrill chant filled the night air. Aurelia raised her hands high, towards the stars above. The bonfire before her bathed her in its light, her hair spilled over her shoulders like a river of liquid gold.

“Invocamus sanguinem ovium et regum ut nobis viam ostendant. We call upon the blood of sheep and kings to show us the way.”

Adelaide steps forward, her dark eyes reflecting the flames. In her right hand was a dagger, twisted and cruel. Emblazoned upon the pommel was a jagged star containing a vicious maw of teeth. Tucked under her arm was a struggling lamb. It kicked and bleated but to no avail. Slowly, the dark eyed girl drew the blade across the lamb’s throat spilling its dark blood into the flames. Then lamb fell still and the blood trickled to a stop. Adelaide tossed it to the side before drawing the blade across her own flesh. It bit deep into her hand, spilling her blood and adding it to the flames. In that moment she looked just as regal and proud as her mother had been long ago. And Aurelia smiled. The fire crackled and popped, turning an angry red.

“Invocamus ensem et carmen periuriis indignum secare. We call upon the blade and the song to cut through the lies of the unworthy.”

Lyra opened her mouth and began to sing. The song was a wail, grief stricken. It rose and fell like waves crashing into the shore. The other girls could feel the song resounding in their chests. Their hearts began to beat the tempo of the song of the deep. Slow and rhythmic.

“O Magne, tuis servis et uxoribus supplices te ostende. Oh Great One, reveal yourself to your humble servants and wives.”

Elise knelt down before the flames, frail and sickly. She shook in terror and excitement as she gazed into its blazing depths. She was the promised. The chosen. The gravity of the coming moment fell upon her and she began to weep fiercely. The crone drew near, laying a gnarled hand upon her shivering shoulder. Her grip was tight as a trap, her nails digging into the girl’s flesh. The crone smiled, her teeth cracked and crooked. She turned her bandaged eyes towards the flames. Her forked tongue darted out like a snake’s, tasting the air. The four young women’s voices rose even higher. Their shrill chant turned to a desperate scream.

“Veritatem tuam in mundum crescamus! Let us birth your truth unto the world!”

And with that the crone drew from her cloak a dark blade. She seized Elise by the throat and quickly drew the dagger across her belly. Elise screamed and blood poured from the wound, staining the ground. The fire cracked, flashing a dark purple. The smoke rising into the night turned a sickly black-green. Then with the sudden ferocity of a striking serpent it coiled and struck downwards, pooling into the frail girl’s open womb. Elise’s screaming quieted into a dull moan as her stomach began to swell. The smoke disappeared inside of her and the flames shrank, reverting to their original orange color. As the last of the smoke dissipated, her wound sealed. Leaving a large angry scar, deep black.

The crone cackled, retreating into the shadows of the trees. Leaving the girls by the fire. Aurelia immediately rushed to Elise’s side. Staring with wonder at her scarred, bloated womb. Adelaide watched from afar, her dark eyes lingering over the wound. Lyra slowly drew near, as if unsure whether she were worthy of being so close to the chosen mother. It was Lyra who broke the silence.

“So this is it? It worked? Our prayers have been answered?”

“Yes,” whispered Adelaide, “my mother’s death was not in vain. Soon the pigs of the earth will drown in their own swill. God has come unto man.”

Aurelia stroked Elise’s brow. Her smile wide and white, her eyes bright.

“Come now mother, it is time to rest. You’ve undergone much. And soon you will bring God into the world once more.”

The girls gathered round Elise, seizing her by the arms and gently raising her to her feet. They began to stumble off into the woods, leaving the firelight behind. The shadows of the trees quickly enveloped the four.

The coven resided within a stone cottage. It had three rooms and a thatched roof. The gray rock was coated with various mosses, giving it a mottled look. Smoke rose lazily from the chimney and a cold stream ran nearby. The trees stood nearby, a veritable wall of wood and leaves. The wall spanned the length of the small clearing, surrounding the cottage and the stream.

The door of the cottage leads into the first and largest of the rooms. There within lay a hearth, alive with flame. Beside it were four chairs. The walls were lined with herbs, books and tokens. Crow’s feet, dried toads and bats, and even a human skull or two. A heavy rug lay across the floor, patterned with odd shapes. Upon the mantle lay the most intriguing item, however. An idol. The statuette was crafted from obsidian, black as night. But shone green when light passed through it. It depicted a man, or at least it looked like a man. He was on his knees, his hands covering his face. From his back emerged three twisted spires, or tentacles. They bent skywards and came to points. His legs and arms were too long. And his hands had the wrong number of fingers, six and three.

From there, the doorway to the left leads into the first bedroom. Inside was a single bed, the second bed had been removed for the time being. The room had been fashioned into a makeshift labor room in preparation for Elise’s pregnancy. A pail of water was kept at hand as were books of medicine and healing incantations. The bed was piled high with pillows and Elise herself was buried beneath blankets. She slept most of the day and her temperature was dropping dangerously low.

The second bedroom now accommodated three beds. It was a tight and uncomfortable fit, but the girls saw it as a worthwhile sacrifice. The cottage had a garden near the door where the girls grew their herbs. This was where Aurelia spent most of her time. She nurtured the plants with a gentle hand. Whispering secrets to them and laughing at their replies. Animals too were drawn to the golden haired girls. They gathered around and watched her. Squirrels, birds and even the occasional wolf or bear. A small crowd would form near the forest’s edge with no distinction between predator and prey. They would simply stare, enraptured.

Adelaide ruled the house. Her dark hair billowed behind her as she hurried about, her darker eyes scolding any who got in her way. Her home was in the many tomes the girls had collected. She would lose herself within their musty pages when she found a moment of peace. Which didn’t often come. She cherished the dark and forbidden knowledges that lay within. And it was her who had met and introduced the others to the crone. The crone who had supplied them with their first tomes, which she no longer had any use for. She had gifted them the idol too. Cackling as she did. She had said she would show them the true face of God. Adelaide had believed her. And now the moment would soon be at hand.

Lyra preferred to wander. She walked through the woods, her bare feet living prints in the dirt and mud. As she walked she collected mushrooms and flowers. And when she was especially quiet she could spy the occasional rabbit. She would watch them as they hopped along, and she would prowl behind them. Ever so slowly, barely moving. Scarcely breathing. Until she was just behind them, inches away. Then she would pounce, seizing the rabbit with her hand and swiftly snapping its neck. Elise appreciated Lyra’s contributions more than ever, now in the midst of her pregnancy. The already sickly girl was melting away before them. As her body grew thinner and more frail, her womb continued to expand. It would not be long now until the holy birth. And then the mountains would crumble and the seas would rise. Or so the crone had said.

In the coming days, however, the wildlife would disappear. Aurelia gardened without an audience. Even her herbs had ceased to whisper. And Lyra had to wander further and further to find prey. Too far. Too close to civilization. Without a steady supply of food, Elise began to worsen. Her face contorted in pain and she became soaked with sweat despite being icy cold. At night she would cry out, speaking in tongues and begging for death. For God to end her suffering. Adelaide soon grew angry, throwing a book at Lyra’s head as Elise screamed from the next room.

“What are you doing you fool? You incompetent! The mother starves because of you!” She shrieked, brandishing another book.

“There is nothing I can do, sister, something has driven the wildlife away. There is nothing for miles!” Lyra groveled, her hands covering her head.

“Then go farther you wretch! My mother did not die, nor have I suffered for the mother to die before her time of delivery!”

“You are not the only to have suffered, bastard,” Lyra growled, “But fine. I will see what can be found beyond Lance Rock.”

“Lance Rock?” asked Aurelia, “But that’s too close to town. The soldiers patrol that area!”

“A risk we will have to take!” snapped Adelaide.

Adelaide then made a shooing gesture, leaving to tend to Elise. Aurelia gave Lyra a sad smile before returning to her garden. Lyra set out immediately, running through the woods. Her feet slapping against the ground. Nothing moved. No animals called. No wind blew. Just Lyra, alone in the woods. Lance Rock came quickly. A tall stone, its jagged peak punching through the foliage and into the sky above. Beyond this point existed a terrifying danger. Man. Society had rejected the girls already, by manner of birth or circumstance of life. They had each been shunned. But now they were despised. As were all practitioners of the craft. Spells and incantations, potions and poultices. Their rituals and castings earned them the title of witch. A daughter and wife to the devil. Something to be detested and burned. Purged. But they knew not of the truth. Their patron was not the devil, but God. The masses who feared and hated them were unworthy. Those who had dealt such pain unto the girls would be repaid a hundredfold when their father returned to the world, born of the mother. And his chosen would rise with him in glory and beauty for their devotion. For they followed the old ways. The ways that the masses had forgotten. And they knew the truth, for they would all soon bear witness to the true face of God.

Lyra moved quickly and quietly, staying low to the ground. Here, past the rock, there was still wind. Birds and squirrels chirped in the trees above. There! A twig snapped as a rabbit jumped out from the brush. Lyra lunged towards the creature in excitement, but she was too eager. The rabbit sensed her and took off. Lyra ran behind, desperately reaching out for the creature. But it was hopeless, the rabbit was too quick and it soon escaped her. Lyra growled in anger.

“You there!” someone called.

Lyra’s blood ran cold. She quickly turned to face the person. A man. He was dressed in an olive green coat, the silver emblem of the crown lay upon his breast and a rifle hung over one shoulder.

“Do I know you?” he asked.

“No, I can’t imagine you do.” Lyra laughed, conjuring her most convincing smile.

“No, no I do. You’re the disgraced singer from Brexley! I saw you once, a few years back.”

“Oh! Oh of course. I’m sorry, I haven’t performed in a while.”

“Could you sing a song? You had the most beautiful voice I’d ever heard. I swear, no matter what the others say.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” Lyra curtsied.

She cleared her throat, holding her hands behind her head. When she opened her mouth the notes were clear and precise. Almost unnaturally perfect. Then in a sing-song voice she wove her spell.

“Carmen meum vocavi. Vocem meam audi et vide. Nullus enim potest meis carminibus resistere. Animas mihi omnes offerunt.”

The man cocked his head at first, confused. And then the spell took hold on him. He stared at her mouth agape. He stumbled towards her, love in his eyes and a foolish grin on his face. He fell to his knees before her, reaching his arms up towards this great beauty.

“My song is my call. Hear my voice and take heed. For none can resist my charms. All men offer up their souls to me.”

Lyra drew the dagger from behind her back and with one violent movement, she slit his throat. The man never stopped smiling, even as the blood drained from his body and his heart ceased. The man was heavy and she struggled to support his weight as she dragged him back through the woods. But the catch was worth it. He was young and fit, and the mother needed sustenance. This wretch would serve her far better than rabbits and rodents.

Aurelia jerked her head up at the sudden screams. The mother was in pain. Too much pain. She grabbed a handful of herbs and hurried inside. Adelaide was already at the mother’s side. Stroking her swollen belly and whispering soothing words. Aurelia quickly set to making the herbs into a tea. The ravenswart would soothe her pain. But she needed sustenance. Aurelia served the cup to the mother, who drank deeply between moans. The front door banged open as Lyra dragged her prey into the hut. She lay the man down upon the floor. And began searching for the proper utensils.

“What is that?” Adelaide asked, her face a mask of rage.

“One of your dad’s men,” replied Lyra nonchalantly, “he was alone, nothing to worry about.”

“If they find us-”

“They won’t! Now will you please help me?” Lyra snapped.

Adelaide groaned before accepting a heavy knife from Lyra. Together the two began to unclothe and butcher the man. As they worked, Aurelia cast her eyes back towards the mother.

“She doesn’t look well does she?” she asked.

“What was the first thing the crone taught us?” muttered Adelaide as she hacked through a joint, “One must look with more than eyes to see the truth. Eyes lie. The mother will be fine.”

In that moment, Elise let loose a fearsome scream. She began to shake and writhe in pain. The three girls looked up in fear, meeting each other's eyes. It was time. Aurelia darted outside to gather the necessary herbs to help with the labor. Lyra and Adelaide rushed into the labor room, hurrying to the mother’s side. Elise screamed until her vocal chords split. And then she screamed silently. Her womb bubbled and stretched as some shape moved about within. Adelaide and Lyra did all they could to hold the thin girl still, trying to stop her from hurting herself or the child within.

Elise struggled and strained as her womb continued to stretch until, slowly, painfully it started to tear. Black blood gushed out as the wound opened. A foul stench came upon the girls and their hands shot up to their noses in reflex. Lyra, now unrestrained, gave one great jerk and fell from the bed. She fell face down, her womb squelching beneath her. Adelaide let out a cry and rushed to the girl.

Aurelia picked the last of her herbs, guided only by the dying sunlight. She looked up, seeing what seemed to be a figure watching from the trees. The crone? There came a sudden scream. A cry of pure terror. Adelaide. Aurelia cast aside the plants and hurried back into the cottage. Lyra was cowering in the corner, near the hearth. Elise lay dead in a pool of black blood, just inside the labor room. Adelaide was suspended in the air. She hung there, writhing and screaming, blood pouring down her face as some invisible force plucked the eyes from her head. They disappeared with a wet slurping noise and Adelaide was thrown across the room, slamming into the wall with a sickening crunch. Lyra closed her eyes and screamed, covering her face in fear. Something unseen began to thump its way towards her. Aurelia watched as she too jerked into the air, and then the golden haired girl ran. The door slammed behind her as she fled out into the gloom. She raced through the trees as fast as she could. But something pursued her. Crashing through the brush.

“No no no please God no!” Aurelia cried.

Tears blurred her vision and as she tried to wipe them away she tripped. A root that had gone unseen reached up to snag her skirt and sent her crashing to the ground. The crashing grew closer and Aurelia closed her eyes in fear, gritting her teeth. There, in the blackness of her eyelids she saw it. The creature's form was bent and twisted. It had clawed fingers and a vaguely humanoid appearance. Almost a man. Three spikes twisted out from its backs, dotted with empty sockets. Six now full with her sisters’ gaping eyes. The creature's face had two mouths and two dark eye sockets. Deep within those sockets were bright pinpricks of light, cold and unfeeling. A sickening feeling set into Aurelia’s stomach as the realization took hold of her. God had not come. This was something else. Something hungry. And the last she saw was the creature’s misshapen hands stretching towards her eyes.