Public “Woven in Thorns.”

[Nadia]

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Datthomir was not a forgiving world. To many Sisters it was considered a pool of thorns, were the teeth of Rancors and the fire of the Ichor tested each Witch to see if they were worthy. Nadia was going though this crucible, she had been sent alone, this rite would require she discover if the Magic would call this Daughter its own.

Nadia began to walk beneath the night sky, the Crescent moon a good omen to her people. She tugging her velvet red hood into the cape with her Talisman of silver on his forehead. The metal knots hanging as if clusters of grapes, beating against the fabric in the wind. Her eyes of deep gray looking upon a cave mouth, its opening was like a great serpent mouth with fangs, four great stalagmites. She bowing on her knees before it as a howling wind came from inside the shadows, and she saw faint green lights that came and disappearing.

Rising up she began to walk into the shadows, here the Underworld of the Sisterhood. Nadia felt not resistance, she pressing across the threshold in her boots with heels of burgundy. As they beat the rock floor she came to a great cavern with fissures that had peridot green smoke rising like incense. She stood over one closing her eyes, as if in prayer. She heard the voices of Departed Sisters, who had crossed the River of the Night. They rose as choir and she felt inside her the primal side, that nature she had come to confront rising in her. The truth is she belonged her, for she was Undead…

 

[Nadia]

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Nadia stood there as the smoke of green began to engulf her body, her closing her eyes as whispers began to rise,
“Sister.. Sister.. Sister.”
Her eyes opening to a glow of peridot, they were as if crystals of green ablaze. She began searching in the cloud of the Planet’screvices. She heard distinctly very deep and raspy tones, masculine, as if animals, unmistakable, the depths of Dathomirian men.

With a step she found that the floor beneath her teteering, she seeing a gap in fog to show the chasm below as she was now on stones stop needles of rock that went down to the depths of shadow. Before her the path the same, as the green fog did obscure them. If she was not careful she would fall and fill a tomb below, and so she began to call to the Magick, waiting its response. The Ichor heard only the call of its Daughters, and she was one. She felt it, the needles in her nerves, and the rush of fever that reminded her of passion in love, and she then leapt, as the outline of her body began to glow emerald and she now stood on one of precarious steps and using her weight to pivot towards another. Another bound and she was on the next one. Now one of precipices rising up from the depths had no stone, now flat carved paver to put her boot on. She would have to leap and landing perfecting on one foot, and so she did, her heel almost tripping over tiny point, it digging into her sole, cutting through, drawing blood that began to drip down it as an offering to the dead below. Holding her stance as she was teetering she saw the ledge and said,
“Magick I call.. if I fall, take me to thine thrall!”

She beginning to fall leapt, and to her great sorrow, she began to fall and with that she calling to the Mother Magick, her body began to glow until she disappearing into a ball of light…

 

[Nadia]

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Nadia awoke laying on a slab of rock, her white hair falling as if threads of pearl. Her head was pounding as she began to rise up on his bottom to see that she was now beyond the floating steps, and below the shadows of where she had fallen.

Turning around she saw lights of emerald, swirling around in great balls as a voice began to call,
“Daughter.. of the Night.. take off your shoe, for this is hallowed ground.”
Nadia took the other boot and tossing it off into the chasm below, and walking on her gray feet, the tops covered in the pattern of deep grey markings that were in spirals, like ripples of water. She came before the Great Light, stones rose up around as a henge, formed from the very wall of rock. She bowing down before this sight.
“You are the Daughter of Two Worlds Nadia, of the Living and the Dead. For you know what awakes on the Sixth Moon.. the nature of the Tomb, a reminder that to cheat death comes at a very dear cost. This will be your thorn and your scepter, to be neither living nor dead. Are you ready to accept such a role, for Dathomir?”

Nadia bowing down on her face before the Light of the Underworld.
“I do accept Mother. I will be a Bridge between Life and Death.”
She took out a knife and cut a lock of her hair and dropping it into a carved bowl began to burn it with magicks, the green flame giving off the incense of burnt hair.
“I mark you Sister, by the Magicks, to serve Dathomir!”
Nadia face began to have lines form of that deep gray, burning across her face as if fingers or tool was guiding it in patterns on her forehead of a great circle and dots all around it.