The moon was a swollen silver eye in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the sacred grove. The air was thick with magic, so heavy that even the leaves on the ancient oaks stood still. Shadows flickered between the trunks, as if the forest itself were watching, waiting.
Lilith, the High Priestess of the Witches, sat upon her throne carved from living oak, nestled into the roots of a towering tree older than most civilizations. The throne pulsed faintly with magic, glowing where her pale fingers touched its bark. Her midnight blue hair tumbled down her shoulders like liquid silk, and her skin glowed with moonlight. She wore a flowing white gown that glistened like it had been sewn from starlight itself. On her lap rested a golden box, etched with runes so old they pulsed with sentience.
Beside her sat Eva, her daughter. Her platinum-blonde hair was braided in intricate loops, the style signifying her status as the High Priestess's blood. She wore white as well, her expression calm, but her icy blue eyes glinted with curiosity. The acolytes—those young witches chosen for their promise, discipline and servitude to the high priestess—sat in silence around the base of the throne, cloaked in matching white robes. Among them was Arianna, eyes wide with both reverence and anticipation.
The grove filled steadily as witches poured in from every coven across the lands. They arrived in clouds of mist, some on foot, others riding the wind or carried by familiars. The murmuring crowd thickened into a sea of white, black, and elemental colors, thousands strong, the most powerful witches in the world gathered beneath the ancient trees.
Then Lilith stood.
A hush fell, sudden and absolute. Even the owls ceased their cries.
Her voice, when it came, echoed with unnatural force, each syllable resonating as though the trees themselves carried her words.
"Sisters. Brothers. Blood of the Moon. I greet you." Her gaze swept over the crowd, her expression unreadable. "I know you are all wondering why I have called you here tonight."
A breathless silence.
"It has come to my knowledge," Lilith said, her voice now darkening, "that someone among us is practicing black magic."
Gasps erupted. Shocked voices filled the grove.
"Impossible!"
"No one would dare!"
"Who would be foolish enough to invoke the cursed path?"
Lilith raised one hand.
"Silence." The single word cracked like thunder, and quiet returned instantly.
Her gaze was as sharp as a dagger now. "It is not merely the crime of black magic that troubles me. It is the purpose. This traitor is not experimenting. They are preparing to ignite a fire—one that could kill hundreds of thousands."
The crowd turned restless again, now rippling with anger and dread.
"A war?"
"Who among us would betray the covens like this?"
"Is it a vampire’s pawn? A wolf's lackey?"
Lilith stepped forward and opened the golden box on her lap. Within it lay a grotesque idol, no bigger than a human heart. It was made of some strange dark metal and twisted bone, etched with runes that shimmered red.
"This," she said, her voice ringing out again, "is the Idol of Revelation. With it, we will uncover the one who has decided to walk down the forbidden path.”
Another collective murmur.
"Is it safe to use that?"
"It’s ancient. Dangerous."
"It’s never been summoned in our lifetime."
Eva’s eyes were fixed on her mother, but her fingers tightened slightly around her skirts. Arianna noticed.
Lilith moved down from the throne with ethereal grace and knelt on the earth. She placed the idol before her gently, reverently, as if placing a child in its cradle. Her acolytes rose silently and moved in practiced unison. They drew an intricate circle and runes around her, the earth lighting up under their hands. Candles were lit and placed with care at each point of the pentagram encasing the circle.
When the last candle flared to life, the acolytes retreated, leaving Lilith alone in the circle.
She closed her eyes.
"Lae—Ver Ik'arus, Divin'na Zark'har—Hov," she chanted, voice rising, yet still sounding like it came from somewhere far away and ancient.
The flames of the candles turned green. The runes began to glow blood red. The idol lifted from the ground, trembling, twitching.
Lilith’s eyes snapped open—white, devoid of pupils. Her body began to shiver, her lips moving faster now, the chant slipping into an unrecognizable tongue.
The wind howled.
Arianna clutched her robes tighter around her. The hair on her arms stood. The power in the air was suffocating. Her eyes widened as the idol began to pulse, faster, harder—until with a sickening snap it cracked open like an egg.
A horrid scream tore through the air. From the idol, a beast emerged.
It was skeletal and twisted, its body formed of smoke and bone, its eyes two pits of fire. Its limbs moved like shadows yet made no sound. Its mouth stretched far too wide. The Idol of Revelation had become sentient, ancient, and wrathful.
Gasps and terrified whispers erupted.
"Is that... the idol?"
"Oh God Witch, protect us."
"It’s alive?"
The beast floated down among them, sniffing, prowling.
Arianna could feel her pulse in her throat. Her heart was beating so hard, it could explode. She dared not move. No one did.
The creature slithered through the witches. Passed by coven heads, young initiates, elemental witches, healers. It stopped occasionally to sniff, then kept moving.
Then it turned.
It faced the throne.
Only Eva sat there now, calm but tense. Around her were the acolytes—Arianna among them—still kneeling, frozen in place.
The beast growled. The sound reverberated through the earth.
Arianna's breath caught in her throat. Her skin broke out in cold sweat.
***No. No. No.***
The beast began walking forward, slowly, purposefully.
Lilith’s chanting ceased. Her body slumped, drained—but her eyes remained locked on the creature.
The grove was utterly silent.
The creature crouched, then in one horrifying, fluid motion—it leapt.
Right toward the throne.