[Grim]

Shiandi did not smile, nor did she make any reply as Amelia disrobed. It was the obedience she expected. As Amelia lay down on the stone altar though, the chill of stone greeted her bare skin. The air in here was warmed by the braziers and seemed to retain a good heat, the stone though, it clung to the chill like an old friend.

Rough leather wrapped around Amelia's right wrist. Shiandi moved around the altar, then the right wrist. Trapping her, binding her down upon the stone altar beneath the woodland cemetary. Her right foot. Then her left. She was pinned. Stuck in this position. A final strap of leather binding her head tight, so he could not move it. All she could do now was wriggle in the position she was in and try to take in as much as she could with her eyes.

A rustle of clothing could be heard, and she could see Shiandi at the very edge of her vision. The witch was naked, the blood runes she had drawn on her body squirming uneasily in the light of the braziers. More rustling, not clothing this, but clinking as well. A bag was being unpacked. The cooing of a rooster in a cage as it awoke from whatever slumber Shiandi had put it in to make it silent along the way here.

Then a scraping sound, slowly circling the altar. Shiandi was making a circle, encasing her and the braziers. Then Shiandi stepped up to the altar, standing above Amelia, a glass knife in her one hand, a white rooster in the other. "Ioelat," she whispered, "we give this one to you, Kieerlyn, your blessing is wanted. Ioelat. We give this one to you. Kieerlyn. Your blessing is wanted." Repeated again and again and again. The tone of her voice increasing till it seemed to fill the tomb with its chant. As she reached her crescendo the rooster was cut open, the blood and guts spilling onto Amelia.

The room formally thrummed with power, Amelia could feel her father trying to pull at her body, more than just leather held his form though and if her physical self struggled against the bonds, so did her father struggle against his, both without any success.

Discarded, empty of the blood required for the rooster fell onto the floor. The blood of it rapidly cooling on Amelia's stomach. Shiandi lost no time though and continued her chanting, a low susurrus now. She dipped her fingers in the blood pooling and she dragged it across Amelia's bound form. Drawing figures as she went along. The chanting continued throughout, Shiandi going through the words so quickly they were all but impossible to make out where one started and one stopped.

Finally, it seemed she was satisfied with her master piece, having drawn a pair of triangles on each of Amelia's cheeks and a line of blood down her nose. She moved down towards Amelia stomach and licked the remainder of the blood. Lapping it up in the manner of a cat.

A bottle was held to her mouth, and she drank eagerly of the contents, Amelia could hear the glug-glug of the bottle as it emptied into her mouth. And then Amelia lost her vision. Shiandi spat the contents of her mouth, saliva, blood and liquor into her eyes. And it burned.

Shiandi seemed to take no note of her discomfort though, rather she forced Amelia's mouth open with one hand, wrapping the other around Amelia's tongue. Still the chanting continued and as one hand let go Amelia could feel the taste of still warm blood on the tip of her tongue. And then the came the sharp blade, cutting into her tongue. Blood spurted once more, her own this time. But Shiandi had a vice like grip on her tongue and the only good biting down would have done would have been to further bite herself.

And then came the burning. The searing hot blade Shiandi had put aside earlier burning into the newly opened wound. White hot pain lancing through her tongue. Shiandi's hand slipped from around it and soon after, cold water washed over her face. Taking the burning haze away from Amelia's eyes.

Thus it was revealed to her, the world around her. Gaunt, long since rotted figures standing at each of her splayed out limbs, holding her down, holding her father down. Shiandi slumped to the ground, exhausted. Half sitting, half leaning against the base of the altar to which Amelia had been fastened. It seemed... it seemed it was over.

The rite of initiation was done with. And she was still alive. Which was more than she could say for the other inhabitants of this place that she could see.