Nepenthe • Something that can make you forget grief or suffering.
Never feeling like they belonged was a feeling that Lissa Dragomir lived with, even with her family and life long best friend, although they aided in that feeling not being so strong...
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Snow still clung to the edges of the paths around St. Vladimir's, untouched by the morning sun. The air inside Headmistress Kirova's office was heavy with incense and sterilizer—a strange mix of reverence and routine. The marking chair sat in the center of the room, surrounded by quiet faces and dim light.
It wasn't a celebration. It was acknowledgment.
Headmistress Kirova stood behind her desk, facing everyone. In front of her, on a small table, the tattooing equipment gleamed darkly under the lamp.
Dimitri stood with Alec in his arms near the wall, silent as always, the infant's soft breathing the only sound that didn't feel tense, although he was wide awake, having recovered from his fever. Janine was beside him, stoic but watchful, while Alberta, Diana, and a few guardians formed a respectful semicircle.
Lissa, Adrian, Christian, Mia, Aaron, and Eddie stood just behind the chairs—those who had been taken, now witnesses, the Dhampir with brandages on their neck from where they'd been bitten by the Strigoi.
The ceremony began quietly, Kirova's voice carrying through the still air. "Today, we recognize the valor of those who have faced darkness and survived," she said, her tone formal, crisp, but not unkind, which surprised Mason and Eddie, who were used to hearing the Headmistress have nothing nice to say to the Dhampir.
"The marks you receive are not given lightly. They are earned with courage, with sacrifice, and with the understanding that each one comes at a cost."
She nodded to the Guardian stationed at the tattoo table. "Novice Viktoria Belikova."
Viktoria inhaled deeply, jaw set as she stepped forward. Mason gave her an encouraging look from where he stood waiting his turn. Dimitri held his breath as he watched his younger sister be marked, he hadn't informed their family of the event, knowing that they would want to be there, but given the current state of things, he didn't want them in danger, especially considering they had a small child in the family and that his twin sister was heavily pregnant.
The whine of the tattoo tool began, quick and sharp, and Viktoria winced once, her body tense, knuckles white as the needle traced the visually familiar symbol—a Molnija. When it was done, a faint shimmer of red surrounded the new mark.
Mason was next, being called as "Novice Mason Ashford." His hand gripped the arm of the chair, and though he tried to joke under his breath, even he flinched at the sting. Viktoria shot him a sideways glance, something between sympathy and amusement.
Then came Kate, "Novice Katherin Alistair." Not Mazur, the niece of Zmey, not Belikov, as Viktoria and Lissa liked to tease her, just Alistair, like the first time she got marked in that very office, what seemed to have been a millennia ago but was really just a few months prior.
She stepped forward with quiet calm, her expression unreadable. Dimitri's eyes followed her every move—watchful, proud, something darker behind it.
The tattooist looked at her for permission and recognition, Kate nodded once. Then machine buzzed again. The first mark—clean and sharp—appeared on her neck. Then the second. The smell of ink and metal filled the air.
