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They were magnificent, all of them. They made him feel such fulfillment and these spectacles reminded him of the victories he’d won over his rival. He was the victor over Christ, and he was reminded of this as he watched them dance. Ather was the first to run to Anastasia’s side. The younger girl helped her to her feet, grabbing her hand and including her in the dances. All of the women roamed around each of the four fires as Lucifer wiped the saliva from his mouth, watching the naked women dancing in glee and in reverence of their master: [i]Him.[/i]

Lucifer rarely danced with them. He watched them praise and gallop through the expanse of the hours, through the night and into early hours. While some were closer than others, and some were more distant towards others, they all so selflessly recognized their purpose of enlightenment in these dark times. The Veneficas danced, laughed, giggled, kissed and smoked in light-heartedness.

An hour or two before the sunrise would peak through the little blades of grass, preliminary to overstepping the tops of the large trees, Satan found Anastasia near the center of the formation, chanting and skipping. He could see the wariness on her face from the wounds and the extravagant celebration. She was still unknown to him, and he had intention to change that before the sun rose. 

“Mistress,” he reached for Anastasia’s hand, as she had begun another dance, and her partner Evelyn gazed at him with a knowing, confident eye as if to remind him that she wouldn’t be forgotten, he knew she might whisper “Think of me when you are inside her”. The girls separated their touch, and the new Venefica came with him willingly. 

Her Lord took her back in the direction of the trail of thorns, and in the dark they were careful to avoid it with their flesh. Her arm was hooked in his as he led her towards their seclusion for the night.

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Fidelia had been waiting for the moment that her master might run off with the new addition. She would be free of[i] his[/i] prying eye, at least. She brought one of the pipes of Opium from the fire of water towards the bonfire of air where Clarissa laid flat on her back, watching the stars. Her labored breathing told Fidelia she'd only just begun resting. [i]Not here. She couldn't touch her with Tempest's eye.[/i]

“Stars are there forever. Sometimes you just cannot see them when the sun is awake.” She sat near her friend's head, bringing her knees up to her chest and pressing her breasts against the tops of her thighs. Clarissa took the pipe when passed, puffing on it with intent to rejuvenate the fading euphoria. The high spun Fidelia around, and when she flew with the stars she often felt more grounded than when sober. While she felt weightless like a bird, she felt as if she was a Siamese twin to the earth, bound together by flesh. One hand hugged her knees and the other stroked Clarissa’s dark hair back from her face. They both had sweat on their foreheads and their bodies were warm and wet with the jubilation of partying. 


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Tempest had left the company of Evelyn’s control and found her way silently into the trees. She leaned against the coolness of the tree, relieved by the coolness of the night air away from the intense heat of four raging bonfires. The brunette appreciated the warmth, but for hours her temperature had been rising and she desperately craved reprieve. Her naked body reflected the light of the moon and she sank down into a seated position against the trunk.

“Domine, propitius esto mihi super contritione regnum fero,” she recited, asking for forgiveness for her mistakes. How had she gone from never dreaming of treachery, to rivaling Evelyn the Treacherous with her sins? How had she become something so different than the witch she’d fancied herself as? 

“Beliel,” she whispered, her eyes closed and her hands clasped in prayer. “Lover.” Tempest welcomed him, hearing his distant, passionate, and youthful step.