The Dark Society

28

 Tainted skies mirrored afflictions as covens arose and reigns of control changed. Otherwise, intricacies between light and dark remained established.

Given that, Anna sat admiring various student portraits under a dingy lamplight. An array of enviable individuals she'd defended from a persecuting society.

In light of that, Saint Ann's remained a haven for vilified occultists, though Anna never foresaw him reappearing. Questioning this, she neared a bookcase, and grasped a single image.

For one thing, she adored Sam and enriched her existence amid a cursed bloodline. Second of all, she'd matured significantly due to the day witches' influence. From that perspective, each was a source of resiliency the other depended on.

Which is why Jennifer's decision to leave the mosque rekindled sensations even Anna couldn't negate. Whatever the case, demands of retaining secrets weighed, so she again pondered rescinding vows.

Later that night, as residents slumbered, Anna wrapped a cloak and accessed the courtyard. On the surface, time stood still, as it had on that fateful night seventeen years before. A day that changed Wicca culture, and the foreseeable future. Just the same, she stayed composed, though passions felt ingrained, and conditions deteriorated.

Through and through, Anna scoured the chapel, searching passageways. By coincidence, dorms were tame, though sporadic embers indicated existence. In a related move, she twinkled as an effigy of Christ shadowed each step.

Albeit, Anna immediately felt aghast as an inverse crucifix emerged from Jesus' brow. Frightened, she bypassed pews, rushing toward a rear doorway. But instead of grasping the knob, she twisted, fixing on the altar.

"Impossible." she whispered, trembling.

From nowhere, the eerie silhouette of a once abandoned enigma stood, staring. Over and over, she doubted reality, but realized it was Harold Morgan. Although, recalling the last time she saw him, he now appeared stern and battered, and eager to inflict suffering. More than that, the sovereign again existed under a veil of darkness and enslaved its divine power.

"You're alive." she stated, shaking.

"Surprised?" he muttered, drawing near.

Exceedingly, Anna tensed.

"I don't know where they are."

In bad vein, he edged closer, trapping her between two massive partitions.

"We'll see."

Upon awakening, fire, tumultuous fumes, and sounds of splintering timber, horrors Anna observed as the mosque was eradicated. At long last, Harold departed, but sadly, so had Saint Ann's inhabitants.

Worse luck, whether killed or seized, she didn't know. All told, Katherine was right, evil had devoured his soul. Against this backdrop, she trudged through the ruins, hunting for two renowned torches, the key of eternal pathways, and a ledger of spells.

Relics synonymous with Sam's practice and the Goddess she embodied. Finally, before disappearing into the dawn, she assessed the destruction, convinced Katherine, and her children, were in grave danger.