Crescent Cusp

Chapter 1, Part 3

Venus ducked down behind the tombstone and abandoned her bottle by her backpack, stealthily making her way closer to the source of the vibrating chant.

A red glow flickered in the center of the graveyard.

Venus peeked from around a tombstone to be greeted by the rough faces of two adult males. They wore tattered black clothing that cascaded from their body like veils. Dirt covered their sullen skin and a milky white film coated their eyeballs as they tilted their heads in unison to study Venus. She watched wearily and with a shaking body as they retreated.

A set up resembling a camp site was laid out in the middle of a circle of ancient tombstones. A fire burned brightly, but from the moment Venus set eyes on the flames, it was clear this was not an ordinary fire.

Most noticeably, the flames were not a dancing mixture of orange and blue, but rather a shimmering ball of dark red, a thread of green twisting around the outskirts of the flame. The second thing Venus noticed was the scent of vanilla again, only this time it intoxicated her senses and weighed down her eyelids.

The man on the left made a low grumbling sound as he surveyed Venus in front of him. “Do you feel a little funny?” he asked the man to his side. He spoke with a curious accent—a mixture of Irish and Russian it seemed—and a thick, gravelly voice which sounded strongly in the small space between them.

“I do, I do,” the other man replied. He spoke with a similar accent. Lightly licking the tips of his grubby fingers, he held them just above Venus’s skin. He seemed to be testing for something.

Venus debated running, as her racing heart seemed to signal danger, but the enticing flame and the men’s unearthly presence kept her glued to the spot. Inside, she screamed.

“Feel,” the second man said in awe as he urged his friend to follow his actions. The first man hovered his hand above Venus’s forearm. A deep grin grew on his face while he wiggled his fingers and purposefully exhaled heavily.

“She feels like the cusp of a crescent moon,” the first man said, quickly clutching his hand to his chest.

“Indeed, she is a cusp.”

Venus remained silent.

“Do something for us, mistress,” the second man said, taking her hand in his large muddy grip and leading her over to the fire. The first man reached into his draping clothing and pulled out a long vial of black liquid, handing it to Venus delicately.

“Coat your hands in this,” he said, urging her on. Venus tensed and remained still, tightly clutching the vial yet doing nothing with it.

“She’s frightened,” the second man said, waving his wand to halt his fast-paced friend. “Perhaps we should introduce ourselves to the mistress.”

The first man let out a snicker and hid his head in his clothing before popping back out and offering Venus his hand. “Telisim.”

“Vocaro,” the second man nodded humbly.

Above them, the moon seemed to shine yellow, casting strange shadows on the sharp contours of their faces. The men looked evil and malicious, with their polite nature and strange mannerisms adding an eerie sense of alienism to their presences.

Finally, Venus spoke. “Why do I feel like the… what was it you said?”

“Yes, yes, the cusp of a crescent moon,” Vocaro said. “The moon, a planet sat proudly in the sky, ever changing its shape to our eyes, represents the core of ourselves.”

“Only appearing at night, it represents the darkness within, through which we may grow illuminated and gain unearthly pleasures,” Telisim continued, musing at his fingertips. “A crescent moon represents a soul of darkness lost in itself; a soul without guidance.”

“And… and why am I one of those?” Venus asked, stammering over her words at the men before her. She was frightened and intrigued and her heart and mind were racing as they spoke.

“You embody a particular….” Vocaro trailed off, looking at his friend beside him, “type of darkness.”

“One not commonly found,” Telisim pointed out.

Vocaro nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes, and you see, that is why we have asked you to coat your hands in the liquid. You must position your hands atop the fire, through which your willingness will truly be revealed.”

“The liquid will, of course, spare your flesh from searing burns,” Telisim said happily.

“Couldn’t I tell you how willing I am?” Venus inquired. “Wait, willing to what?”

“You can hear your thoughts and feel your emotions, but you cannot feel the blood pumping through your veins, nor see beneath the flesh you wear,” Vocaro said, dismissing her latter question.

“Shall we be on with it?” Vocaro asked, rolling the vial in his hands.

Venus paused, taking in the situation before her. Above her head, a full moon casting light upon the earth; before her, two strange men with dancing flames and dark claims; and for her, a request to position her hands above said flames in order to reveal the unknown.

After a long pause, Venus spoke. “All right.”

The men moved at once, grasping her hands tightly and pouring the thick, dark liquid onto her skin. It felt like a mixture of ice and salt, with the fluid texture of water, and Venus let out a pained gasp. The liquid hardened around her skin like a glass case, dark as midnight and shining like gold. Vocaro and Telisim escorted her closer to the flames.

They wasted no time carefully positioning her hands in a way so that just the tip of the flames licked her palms. Venus’s hands inside the black liquid felt like an acid burn, however she was sure this was due to the liquid and not the flames themselves. Watching flames, she waited patiently.

The green thread of fire that had been circling around the outskirts of the flames began to turn a deep golden colour. It shimmered before shifting into a thick black veil which obscured the parent flames completely from her angle.

“A half veil,” Telisim nodded. It was evident on his face that he had been expecting this outcome. 

“Half?” Venus said.

“From the rear the flames are completely exposed and raging.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” Vocaro said quietly, “that you are indeed willing.”

The air between them was pregnant with silence, but the graveyard around them was just as still. The only audible sounds present were Venus’s racing heart and the crackle of the flames in front of her.

“Willing to do what?” Venus asked again, finally breaking the bone-crushing silence between the three of them.

“Tell us your name,” Telisim said, dismissing her question once more.

“It’s Venus Trapp,” she said, looking down at her hands as she abandoned her attempt at an answer. “Can you get this off of me?”

“Ah, of course,” Vocaro said, digging around in his clothing before pulling out a short, rotund bottle full of clear liquid. He poured it sparingly on her hands and instantly the hard black casing cracked and fell to the ground with a thud. Venus expected her skin beneath to be singed and red, but was surprised to see it untouched and even slightly shining.

“Listen closely to me, Venus,” Vocaro said, leaning in close. “You will meet us here tomorrow at precisely the same time, and it is that time at which we will show you a world filled with the darkness your heart desires. Do you understand?”

Venus nodded. It was a snap decision within her which required minimal thought, and like that, Vocaro, Telisim, and their dancing flames were gone.