Bloody Dawn. Daughter of Dawn. Natalie Yacobson

a hall for solemn meetings. Candles, crowd, official clergy robes, a bowl for communities filled with the blood of his fellows. Today it was blood, and not wine. On the ranks was a ritual knife. Each of those present was supposed to make an incision on his wrist and drop into the bowl of their own blood. Thus, they all gave their strength to one vessel. From this vessel is intended to start to someone who is elected to fight evil.

      All the assembled should have supported one favorite. He could alone not cope with the mission entrusted to him. So read the sacred prophecy. But why then assign such a responsible task to someone? And rather to him.

      Well, everyone dedicated to the Order was obliged to consult that he was on self-sacrifice. Only here to sacrifice themselves they did not want too much. Ferdinand saw how reluctantly they raise the sleeves and bring a knife to the wrist. They did not want to sacrifice even a drop of blood. But it was originally believed that on the altar of struggle against evil they would bring their own life.

      The bowl was filled with their blood mixed with consecrated wine, and Ferdinand felt like a dizziness covered him.

      Somewhere on the choir were heard the sounds of the anthem of a terrible court.

      «And God will put forward his son against the devil…»

      Ferdinand nodded to the head of the order. It seems to be to say «Amen», but he forgot… he forgot that he needs to do and say.

      The name of order was a palm of god or Order of Dawn. They were called so and so, and the ordinary brothers called the faithful to God. He used to like it, as it sounds. Previously… Now something has become different, as if the winged shadow laid on the altar, and suddenly he was afraid.

      Ferdinand bowed his knees before the altar. The bowl with blood has already passed in a circle to the head of the Order, the older Donatello. It was he who had to make the deepest incision and fill to the edges the remainder of the bowl. So he passed his strength and ancient wisdom. Together with blood. Ferdinand was not right to object to it. To his surprise, he did not feel the disgust with the thought of the taste of blood and that he would have to drain the whole glass. Only the feeling of inevitability.

      «Every year we are waiting for the appearance of a star, which will indicate the proximity of the execution of the prophecy,» the stern voice of Donatello cut silence. «Every year we live in the thrill before it appears. But when it is done, our Order is waiting for several calm centuries.»

      «The devil comes to our world every pointed period,» Donatello nodded on the bas-relief of unusual clock with many circles inside. «Only we know the boundaries of this period, and only as long as we act, the clock closes the circle. The devil is in the circle until we expel it. And while we are, the circle will not interrupt. Satan will not break out. We are elected to fight the main enemy of God, thirsting to break into our world and subordinate it to yourself. You are chosen!»

      The old fingers of Donatello touched the chin of Ferdinand to raise. Their eyes met, and the young man flinched. Donatello gave him a sign. Now he had to repeat. And he repeated. Their voices sounded a chorus, uttering the same oath.

      «I promise to bring my life to the altar of my creator.»

      «I never tell anyone how great my purpose is and how close is the devil to the servants of the Lord.»

      «I know that I have to fulfill my destination before the term marked in the last on this day the cycle of prophecy.»

      «The clock of the Lord is already hitting and before they come together on the last figure, the devil will be dead… from my hand.»

      Did Donatello pronounced these words with the same frightening insensible intonation? Was he in fighting the devil himself? Probably not. After all, he is old, but not dead. And the one who fought with evil in the past his appearance in this world has already dead. After all, it was without a small century ago. Each cycle is a few centuries. It is precisely such intervals (not hours, and the years and centuries) mark the dial of the divine clock.

      Lot to fight evil fell a melancholic young man who was used to talking to the statue of angel and dreams that it answers him.

      What is evil? What should he fight?

      «You’re a palm of god now,» Donatello said.

      Ferdinand knew. He nodded.

      Behind stood a crowd of his silent fellows. The hand of each was bleeding. And Donatello has already brought the bowl to his lips.

      «Are you ready to take the mission entrusted to you?» the last question. It was no longer needed, but such was a tradition. While he will not officially agree, the rite will not be completed.

      The golden edge of the bowl was so cold and unpleasant to the touch. He had to drink the blood of his companions and to hope that thus the power of the whole Order to unite in it by one, making it invincible. It was absurd, and yet Ferdinand said, as it was:

      «I’m ready!»

      And immediately he pierced the feeling that his favorite marble angel looks at him right from this altar, in front, from behind, from a height, from everywhere. It was also absurd, but the angel was not encouraged.

      «A traitor!»

      He began to be afraid of this word, but it sounded in the head, pronounced by the lips of the angel.

      So the angel called him. Why? Because of the blood, which he had to drink? Ferdinand drank, trying not to feel the taste. It was too unpleasant.

      «She goes!» said Donatello.

      «She?» Ferdinand was amazed, but the cold ritual dagger was already in his hands. He took the mission to himself.

      Rite of darkness

      Angels do not roam at night through the streets. But today it happened. The creature, which seems to be just from heaven, thoughtfully moved forward, drawing a bloody line on a dirty wall. Her beauty frightened. It was worth just once to look at such a creature to lose the mind.

      Nicolette did not even think about the golden strands, in which Pixie was confused. They fell in love with her even stronger than people. Her body seemed made of marble: absolutely bloodless, insensitive, white and cold. Cool twisted curls, like yelling gold, if you cut the curl, it would become gold, eyes, like a azure, body, like marble. And to top off all the wings behind her back.

      Today she found out who she was. Today was the night of all accomplishments. On this night, she went to the river to reduce scores with life and get rid of the consciousness that the devil is no longer behind her back, but lives inside. A sharp knife walked through her wrist, all the blood flowed into the river, but life did not leave her. On the contrary, a new dark essence came. Behind the back were wings. The devil reflected in the water.

      The beauty of the devil captives, but only not her.

      Love and passion is not in her nature. Hunger and thirst too. She did not feel them. And what about the future?

      At the meeting, she was already waiting. Curious creatures crowded in the gloomy hall. They had to wait long. They did not count on this. Well, they were here. Nicolette entered the hall, as if she was a queen. And it does not matter that clothes on her are torn, and in indifferent eyes, they were frozen the fragments of hell. She is really the queen of these creatures. And then she will become their deity.

      «Where?» She asked the monster who was the main thing here in her absence. At the entrance she had to reveal the palm and show the label in her hand. This is no longer required. She was recognized in the face. Here is Dennitsa, expelled from heaven to grab the power on the ground…

      The monster pointed to a narrow arched pass. Really there! Nicolette immediately felt his presence. He is waiting for her, like all of them, only much longer and more tense.

      She went slowly. She saw the statue with wings. Huge, gloomy, black and frightening.