Glory and the Trifecta

Glory winked. “I guess a little magic can’t hurt, right?”

Janey smiled wide as Glory closed her hand over the padlock, completely shielding it from view. The older witch’s eyes closed tightly and her lips moved silently, muttering a spell that afterwards she wouldn’t remember the words to. Glory realized that she was able to do the spell because she needed to. Her powers were getting stronger every day.

Suddenly, the lock grew red hot in Glory’s hands, and she dropped it. Instead of remaining attached to the gate, it fell to the ground, free of its purpose. Glory and Janey whooped and yelled excitedly.

Janey pulled the two sides of the gate open carefully, and they creaked with age and lack of use. “Come on!” She yelled as she slid through the opening. Glory followed after her sister and pulled lightly at the back of her dress to stop her before she ran quickly up the steps leading to the house’s double doors.

“Wait,” Glory breathed. “We should make sure it’s safe first. The fire might have damaged the foundation!” Glory peered upward and saw pillars that met at a pointed arch above the doorway. To either side of the house’s façade were smaller, though otherwise identical, false entrances. The three archways connected into one large pointed arch that housed a rose window at its top. Glory felt a drop of rain hit her upturned face and decided that the Gothic architecture looked sturdy enough to allow the entrance of two slight witches. She pulled her sister behind her and approached the wooden door.

Glory placed her hand on the burned and blackened wood and pushed with all of her might. The door swung open dramatically and slammed against the inside wall of the house.

The girls were greeted by an eerie sight. Wallpaper bearing faded evidence of once-deep reds and bright golds hung limply, torn away from the wall and covered in soot. Furniture lay abandoned and tipped precariously on its sides. Janey walked toward a leaning ottoman. One of its four legs had been ripped off and sat forgotten near the ornate fireplace. A winding staircase lay in front of the two girls, the upper floors haphazardly barricaded by support beams that had crashed down from the ceiling.

Above the center of the room hung a delicate glass chandelier that was miraculously unharmed. Motes of dust moved in and out of the faint light streaming in through an upper window, dancing over the chandelier’s bits of carved glass and weaving their way through falling spider webs.

Janey walked across the room, stepping over bricks and bits of wood, toward an open door at the far side of the entrance hall. She beckoned for Glory to follow her, and the two girls made their way carefully into the dark room. Janey waved her hand in front of her, and the lights that still hung from the walls burst into life.

“Have you noticed,” Janey whispered reverently, “our powers are getting even stronger?”

Glory nodded. The girls had found themselves in the old butler’s pantry. Cabinet doors were flung open, hanging on single hinges, while plates and tea cups littered the floor in swirls of broken china. At the end of the narrow room was an open door. Glory walked toward it and beckoned behind her for Janey to follow.

On the other side of the door was a staircase. Glory assumed it was the old servant’s stairway because it was far plainer than the rest of the house. It seemed completely untouched by the fire that had destroyed the rest of the house.

“Up or down?” Janey asked, her voice echoing through the stairway. The stairs seemed to creek in answer. Down, they whispered. So the girls made their way carefully down the ancient wooden steps.

In old manor houses, it would have been common to find an elaborate, labyrinthine basement at the bottom of the stairs with dripping stone walls and jars of old food that had been stored by the cook for winter and forgotten in spring. Instead, the girls saw something that shocked them.

“Is that…?” Janey’s question dropped off.

Glory stepped forward and pressed her hand against the marble bust of a woman with long hair and wise eyes sculpted in gentle and ancient strokes. “It’s a crypt,” Glory whispered.

Along the walls were hundreds of stone cutouts stood next to busts of women or shields bearing long-forgotten names. The corridor was brightly lit, but the light had no visible source. Glory imagined that she could hear the dead women whispering to her, telling her to keep going forward. Then she wondered if she was really imagining it. Her feet seemed to move of their own volition as she made her way toward the end of the corridor. The light kept getting brighter and brighter.

Glory looked behind her and saw Janey still standing by the first bust.

“Hurry up!” Glory yelled to her sister.

Janey’s face contorted into a grimace. “I can’t,” she yelled back as she tried to move her feet. It was as if an invisible barrier was keeping Janey from joining her sister.

Glory continued on alone as the whispers grew louder. She couldn’t understand what they were saying; they all were muttering at once.

At the end of the corridor, Glory saw a large book set on an ornate marble pedestal. She felt herself drawn to it – golden rays emanating from between its pages. Glory didn’t know why, but she felt that this book was the source of her powers.

Carefully, Glory stepped onto the base of the pedestal to get a better look at its pages. The dark ink moved in scrawls written in a language she had never seen before. Gently, Glory placed her hand on the edge of the page. As she flipped it over, her stomach lurched as the room flipped upside down along with the page, returning to normal when the page rested back against the book. The light spilled out brighter and Glory fell violently onto the floor, her back suffering the most. As the light streamed out, it seemed to gather into a cohesive shape. Glory watched as an angelic form grew from the book. Wind whooshed throughout the room and blew its pages back and forth. Then, suddenly, the room became still and silent.

The light-thing towered over Glory. It reached a hand down and Glory took it cautiously. It was made of something more than light – she could actually touch it. It was surprisingly cool. Glory pulled herself up and brushed her dress off.

Glory, the form whispered. She – whatever it was, the form definitely seemed to be female – was using the same channel Glory and Janey used to talk within each other’s heads. Glory nodded. The light-woman was becoming more visible to her, and Glory stood in awe of her beauty.

The woman was wearing a long, flowing white dress, and just where her heart would be if she were human, a yellow light glowed. Her hair, bright and as blinding as the rays of the sun, billowed around her delicate porcelain face although there was no longer any wind.

I’ve been calling you since you were born. I am pleased to finally see you here.

Glory didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry that it took me so long,” she said, unsure.

You don’t have a lot of time now, The angel’s voice reverberated through Glory’s head painfully. Glory could feel her urgency.

You need to know who you are and where you come from.

“Who are you?” Glory asked without meaning to. She felt childish.

My name is Ihlyrah, the woman pronounced it IL-lie-Rah. It means “Free”. In this case, free of the First. It is important, but you are more important than I, now.

Glory shook her head and tried to back away. She found her feet were unable to move from their spot on the floor. Glory began to tremble as Ihlyrah held out her hand.

Take it, Ihlyrah said harshly. Glory took hold of her hand again, this time nervously. She looked over her shoulder to check that Janey was okay, but Glory couldn’t see her sister anywhere. Before she could look back to Ihlyrah, Glory felt a whoosh of air go past her ears making her feel dizzy.

Suddenly, Glory was no longer standing in the middle of the crypt. Instead she found herself on a cliff overlooking the ocean. Ihlyrah was still next to her, but was composed of muted colors instead of brightly glowing light.

“Where are we?” Glory asked, fear creeping into her voice. She knew that she was in a vision, but it felt different than the ones she had had before. This one felt more real. “Where is Janey?” Ihlyrah ignored Glory stoically.

This is where it happened, Ihlyrah said. Right here, the First took their first victim – the first part of the Trifecta – and threw her off of this cliff. It was the first of many untimely and horrible deaths.

Glory saw men in bland colored tunics carrying a screaming woman between them. Her deep red hair had been sheared off unevenly, and Glory could see spots where the cutting instrument had met flesh and blood had dried to her scalp. Glory winced. She looked up to Ihlyrah.

“I don’t want to watch her die,” Glory cried. Tears streamed down her face that she couldn’t control.

You must. You have to understand. Ihlyrah’s hand covered Glory’s shoulder and held her steady. Glory turned her gaze back toward the screaming girl. She was a prisoner.

Glory shuddered as the men roughly tied the woman’s hands and feet with rope. The bindings chafed at her skin, and blood welled at the surface. Then the men picked her up as if she weighed nothing and tossed her over the edge of the cliff. Glory screamed along with the falling woman and kept screaming, even after she heard the body splash against the angry sea below.

Glory bent over, placing her hands on her knees to steady herself as rolling sensations of sickness washed over her. She wanted to close her eyes and go back to Janey in the old mansion.

Glory felt a pull at her navel and suddenly found herself in a small hut. In the center a blackened cauldron was simmering over a crackling fire. Glory peeked inside and saw a stew with floating bits of vegetables and barley. It didn’t smell appetizing, but Glory’s stomach growled instinctually. From the corner of the hut, Glory heard soft crying. She walked over to the bed made of loose hay and saw straw-blonde hair mixing with the bedding. A young girl was hidden under a rough woolen blanket, and Glory could see her shoulders heaving up and down with her shuddering breaths.

“What’s going to happen to her?” Glory asked Ihlyrah who was still beside her.

She will die as well. It has already happened and cannot be changed. Be angry and feel the vengeance well up inside of you, but do not be sad. They would have died long before you were born even if they had not been stripped of their rightful time on Earth.

There was a loud banging on the door and Glory jumped. The girl hiding under the blanket jumped as well but didn’t get up to answer the knocking. The group outside the door yelled in a language that had died out and been replaced twice over, but their tone was terrifying. She wanted to tell them to go away and leave the girl alone, but she couldn’t. There was the sound of a scuffle as one of the men drew a piece of flint and threw a spark at the outer wall of the hut.

Then the flames began licking the walls. The dry hay picked up the fire quickly and burned strong and hot. Soon the ceiling was aflame as well and the girl was trapped in an inferno. She rushed to the door to try to escape, but the group outside had barred her exit. She pounded her small fists on the rough wood and blisters began to cover her burning flesh.

Then she was gone. Glory looked around again and saw that she had traveled away from the hut. Instead, she was now standing in front of an ancient looking inn. She saw Ihlyrah standing in front of her.

“Why are you showing me this?” Glory yelled. Ihlyrah didn’t answer. It was as if she couldn’t even hear her. Glory looked at the woman; she looked different from her Ihlyrah, and Glory realized that it wasn’t – this Ihlyrah was in the past and Glory was seeing what happened to her. She was covered in a thick brown traveling cloak and carried a small pack. She walked up to a thin horse and stroked its neck. The horse whinnied and she shushed it lovingly.

Cautiously, the past-Ihlyrah climbed up onto the horse’s back. Her belly was slightly rounded; she was pregnant. The dark night seemed to swallow her whole as she sped away, kicking the over worked horse into action. Glory stood resolutely as she watched her disappear into the trees and the shadows.

I escaped that night, Ihlyrah’s voice brought Glory back to the bright marble crypt. But my sisters were not so lucky. If you are not careful, you may soon suffer the same fate.

“How can I protect them?” Glory pleaded with the light-based form.

You can learn and understand. You have passed the first test already by thinking of your sisters before yourself. Now you have to prepare for what is coming.

The Trifecta have been present from the dawn of time. Three sisters, born of the Earth, living within its bounds, and protecting its delicate balance. But the peace they brought could not last for long. When men began to walk the soil, in the place that you now call Bymoor, they saw themselves as beyond the need of such mystical help. They declared themselves the First and set about to rid the Earth of any forces that were other than human.

The Trifecta escaped the human war for centuries. Then my own sister, Vanyta, fell in love with a man.

A witch within the Trifecta has no need of men to reproduce. We are born of the Earth, and to the Earth we give our lives. One sister bears the next generation, but all three will raise the children together. When the power of the new Trifecta grows, that of the one before it fades away. I was the Mother out of my trio of sisters, just as you are the Mother of your own Trifecta. The balance was tipped when Vanyta fell in love and wanted to run away. Vanyta was meant to control life, but her departure upset the delicate equilibrium and twisted her powers. Crops wilted in her wake, the milk of the cattle ran dry, children died of disease and malnutrition, and the leaves blew prematurely from the trees. Soon, she was found out by the man’s family and accused of witchcraft. Of course, she was guilty, though only of the humans’ artificial laws. So she was the first of us to die.

Then my youngest sister, Hettya, the bringer of peaceful and painless death, began to suffer greatly. She became very sick without Vanyta, and she herself grew weak. I didn’t know what to do to save her, so I decided to leave her and forge a path for the next Trifecta. Without me, Hettya was found and killed as well. Her painful death created the terror and ruin that surround mortal death to this day.

However, I was able to escape. I gave birth to a daughter, my precious Renesta, before I was found as well. I left my daughter with a family that vowed to take care of her as their own, and I ran. I tried to go where the First could not find me, but they were persistent. There was nowhere I could hide. Renesta was the only child that I was able to bring forth to a new generation. Her stone lays beside mine in our eternal crypt. Renesta birthed two of the next generation, but they joined us in our mausoleum as well.

Eventually I was found and burned at the stake. But before I was caught, I preserved a memory of my living self to warn the next Mother. I have been waiting since then for the next full Trifecta to be born.

Now that you are together, they will be able to sense your powers as I could. They will stop at nothing to destroy you, and they have only grown more powerful over the centuries while the Trifecta has been in perpetual darkness and cold. You are the sisters of winter, but you will take our first steps into the warmth of spring.

You will not be able to defeat them alone. You need each other and you need to become one again. Find your sisters. Practice and learn.

Then the ghostly form of Ihlyrah faded until she disappeared completely and Glory was alone at the end of the corridor. She looked around and saw it had never been a crypt. It was just a long, dark, and moist hallway that led to the boiler room. But one part of the illusion had been absolutely real. In front of Glory’s feet, the book lay, huge and ancient. Glory picked it up reverently and tucked it under her arm. At the mouth of the hall stood Janey. She was looking expectantly at her sister.

“What got into you?” Janey asked.

“I have so much to tell you,” Glory breathed as she ran back to her sister. “And I don’t think we have much time.”