An Ancestors Mark (#Wattys2016)

The Ancestors Decree

Stranolar Ireland 1872

"Victoria Roth-Wood, seventh granddaughter to the Roth-Wood's line, let the Ancestors define you." The brunette shuddered at both her professor's words, and the shadowy stain that had begun to adorn her petite frame. Curls of obsidian engulfing her once bare skin, spirals reaching up towards her neck. The beginnings of a Slayer's mark.

     She straightened as the brushes marks reached around the tips of her shoulders, and closing her eyes she could make sense of the knotwork. The wings of a once powerful being, the knotting of clockwork pieces held within the artful beast, and the coiled imprints of steam erupting around the entire image.

     "I let the Ancestors define me. . ." The words were uttered under a single breath.

     Her professor continued, letting the knots intertwine together and the ink embed itself into her skin. "Our Ancestors mark this body as a blessed vessel. A Slayer of our baneful and vigorous foes. Do you let the Ancestors decree your body of this title? Do you yourself take honor and pride in the title that is to be given to you?"

     "I let the Ancestors commend this title upon me, I myself take pride and honor in the title commended upon me." The coal colored stain turned silver at Victoria's final statements, followed by a sensation consuming burn and the hiss of embers on flesh.

     A cascade of caramel tumbled around the blistering knotwork, disfiguring the ivory hue in the slightest. Her body collapsed to the stone with the softest thud as the pain ceased to exist.

"Victor. . .Vivian!" The scream begged for her siblings, fusing with that of silent hisses. Though realization hit her quickly, and she began to scream for her professor.

Her screams became as ceaseless as the burns. Though as the embers hissed at her one final time, she could no longer bear the pain, and the candlelit room around her withered into absents as she herself descended into the twilight of unconsciousness.