When I was a little girl, the teachers at the village school taught us that our world hangs in a delicate balance of power. It always has. Since the dawn of time, men had the physical advantage over women, while women received the gift of giving life and some of them - The Second Gift - that of magic.

As it was, the power of magic would give women an unfair superiority over the physical advantages given to men. So, the Mother and Father of the world made it so that the women born with The Second Gift would need a crucial catalyst for their sorcery, a source of power: the pleasure and devotion of men.

The myths and stories of the ancient mage Goddesses fueled my imagination in my childhood years. Like many other girls, I secretly dreamed that I would one day be one of the beautiful and regal Lady Mistresses, the highest order of The Sisterhood. Lying on my cot at night, I envisioned leading an army of stunning and unstoppable lady warriors wielding magic as a weapon. Knowing it could never be, I took comfort in my imaginary breathtaking beauty, and made up armies of chivalrous knights.

I grew up in a small village called Redland, in the Sunkissed Valley in the south of the kingdom. Years of playing with my older brothers in the orchards at the edge of the village, and helping my father tend to the chickens and goats on the farm, molded me into a freckled tomboy. With my dull brown mane roughly braided to keep it out of my eyes, sunburnt skin, and knees that were all scrapes and scars one on top of the other - I looked nothing like what I imagined a Lady of the Sisterhood would look like. Even my mother and older sister were prettier than me, with their long smooth hair the color of hay in the sun, light blue eyes and long slender legs. I thought I was different because I was the youngest. “The runt of the litter,” our neighbors called me. So of course, I never shared my secret magical fantasies with anyone.

To us Redland kids, the Mistresses of the Sisterhood were little more than a myth. The only woman we knew who had The Second Gift was our local village lady, Clarida. My parents told me she was old, but no one knew exactly how old. It was well known that Ladies could use their magic to alter their appearance to look whatever age they wanted – young or old. But no one really knew how long they could live. The king sent Clarida to Redland when both my parents were children. So as far as anyone could guess she was at least sixty years old. She never looked it. Secluded from us ungifted, she lived in a tall stone house on a hill on the north edge of Redland. You could hardly call it a mage’s tower, but you could also hardly call Clarida a sorceress. As kids, we always called her “the angry witch”.

Clarida was a grumpy and plump lady, who breathed heavily as she walked, but always enhanced her shape with corseted dresses, preferring cinching over the unnecessary waste of power to change her appearance too much. We’d only ever see her at holiday feasts, or when the village doctor needed her help healing a sick child or mending a wound. The lady would always show up accompanied by at least one or two men in uniform of the Order of Brothers, usually half her age. We would also see them at the weekly village market, buying the best pieces of meat and prettiest fruits and vegetables for their lady. They never stayed long. Every few months, a new Knight of the Brotherhood would arrive to live with the lady, replacing the old one. Sometimes Clarida would be called to assist with other things, like immunizing the crops with her spells when a plague spread among the fields. Though the teachers always told us she was here to protect us from the Free Witches.

The Free Witches were the monsters in the closet and the wind howling in the barn to the kids of the Sunkissed Valley. Wild mage ladies of the woods and swamps, who had the reputation of being mad, evil and cruel. Our parents would warn us from wandering too deep into the woods where the witches could catch us and eat us. I often wondered which of those stories were true, and which were just creative tales meant to keep children well-behaved.

Most everyone in the village crowded around our little farmhouse on the night the black carriage from the Citadel of Ladies parked outside my family’s home. The villagers spoke among themselves in hushed voices, waiting to see the Mistresses and their knights. Only a handful of Redlanders had ever seen a Mistress, usually on trips to the city to sell crops. The people were curious and excited – finally something interesting happening in forgotten little Redland.

The children ran around the carriage examining it as closely as their parents would let them. The Citadel was a four-day ride north, but the carriage magically arrived in just over half a day following my “incident”. The incident that was the reason that day was unlike any other day in my life.

No one in our village expected me to show signs of The Second Gift as I neared puberty. I was the daughter of a midwife and a farmer, miles and generations away from the royal bloodlines of the kings and lady mages. By that age, I had outgrown such childish fantasies.

Waiting for the mysterious guests to arrive, my brothers and I sat on the steps leading to the top floor of the farmhouse, unusually quiet and still. We watched as my parents and our older sister, Gemma, paced around the living room like caged cats, looking for something to do to prepare the house for this unexpected visit. The silence was disturbed only by the barking of the dogs outside, the muted noise of the crowd and the crackling of the fire in the fireplace.

Mother would glance at me as she passed by the stairs, and there was something different about the way she looked at me. She had never looked so concerned and sad. Not even when I fell off a horse and had to be rushed to Clarida’s tower so she would apply her spells and power fix my broken back. I was worried too. That whole day was like a strange nightmare and I had trouble keeping up with events. It was like things were happening around me but my mind just didn’t digest them.

Nothing seemed normal. My heart was racing, and I was exhausted. Closing my eyes, I leaned against my older brother Sam, and his twin, Tam put his arm around us. They were my best friends and their proximity brought me comfort. I looked at the bruise on Tam’s head and regret washed over me for the millionth time that day.

Lady Clarida stood in our tiny living room, peering out the window and fidgeting. Her escorts, two young men of the Order of Brothers, stood outside by the door as though guarding the house from the curious crowd. They looked like soldiers to me, their leather armor adorned with metal insignias, their swords hanging from their belts. But at my age I already knew that their role wasn’t just guarding the ladies and serving them. Along with the late of the birds and bees, my parents explained to me the role of men in creating magic. These knights weren’t only the ladies’ sworn protectors, but also their lovers. And the knights’ passion was the source of power for the ladies’ spells.

I could hear the crowd’s whispers grow louder as four figures emerged from the carriage. Two mistresses and their escorts. Soft light surrounded them as they walked, white and blue and almost blinding in the moonlight. When they entered the room, it got cold. It wasn’t just the evening wind that followed them through the opened door, but a different cold. One I’ve never felt before. It was oddly comforting.

The knights entered first, scanning the room with their eyes for potential dangers to the Mistresses. They were tall, impressive men in golden armor, with swords that hung across their backs in jeweled sheaths inscribed with runes. The smooth gold collars on their necks gave off a slight magical buzz. As impressive as they looked to us villagers, they were nothing compared to the two Mistresses.

The first to enter was an older-looking Mistress, dressed all in black velvet decorated with silver threads and bright white jewels. She looked a bit like Lady Clarida, but was far more regal in her appearance. My brothers and I have never seen a Mistress before and were staring wide-eyed.

And then she entered. A young Mistress in her prime, her clear, crystal-blue eyes attracting every glance around. Her presence filled the room and my mother instantly looked at my father, who was mesmerized by the sight. I would remember that moment forever. The moment I first saw Mistress Morgan.

Raven-black hair flowed down her back, pulled back from her face with a tiara made of silver threads with a blue rock in its center. Her dress was simpler-looking than that of the second Mistress, but on her perfectly toned body the deep blue cotton dress looked far more appealing than the velvet layers on her elder.

My mother hurried to sit them by the table, and offer them drinks. They both refused and looked around the room.

"Where is the girl?" The older-looking mistress glared at Clarinda, her tone sharp and demanding. My mother, she ignored.

“There, Mistress Paya.” Clarida pointed at me and I froze as the Mistresses looked me and my brothers over, as though wondering which one the girl was.

“Come here, child,” Mistress Paya commanded me. I paused for a moment, but then carefully descended the stairs and stood before the seated Mistresses. My parents and sister stood behind them and everyone stared at me in silence. I felt naked, even though my mother insisted on dressing me in my best red linen dress. She even braided my rebellious hair to make me as presentable as she could.

“Closer,” she ordered, and I stepped toward her cautiously. She rose from her chair. Standing just a step away, she looked like a giant woman to me. Examining me closely, she raised her hand to my face. I looked at it, confused when I saw a light emerging from it. I tried not to stumble back as it scanned me from head to toe, glittering against my skin.

“How old are you, girl?” Mistress Paya asked as she sat back down.

“Twelve, my Lady,” I managed to say.

“Speak up!” She raised her voice at me and I shivered.

“Twelve!” The fear was apparent in my voice. My mother shifted uncomfortably in her place and the chair beneath her creaked. The Mistresses exchanged gazes then looked back at me.

“Tell us exactly what happened,” Mistress Paya demanded. In the back of my mind I noted that she did not ask my name. Just my age.

I glanced at my brothers before answering. Most of the details I had were from what they told me. I could not remember any of the “incident” myself.

“I was fighting with my brother in the backyard, and I hurt him.” The volume of my voice lowered, swallowed by shame.

“Hurt him?’” Paya echoed with a question. “Tell me everything. What were you fighting about?” She sounded curious but impatient. Which just made me more anxious.

“I… Nothing special I think.” I stumbled with my words. “He was teasing me about spending too long in the outhouse.” I glanced quickly at my mother before continuing. I had gotten my first blood of the moon the day before, so my visits to the toilet were longer than usual. “So… I punched him in the shoulder,” I finally said.

“Punched him in the shoulder?” Paya echoed again, as though disbelieving me. “What happened next?”

I took a deep breath before answering: “The shovel hit Tam on the head. All by itself. Without me touching it.”

Mistress Lady Paya made a very strange face, wrinkling her nose in a mix of disbelief and something else I could not quite comprehend.

“And who saw this?” She looked around.

“I did.” My father raised his hand. “And Sam too. She fainted. And blood came out of her nose.” He sounded nothing like the strong-willed hardened man who raised me. He sounded like a child. “We took her to Clarida at once.”

Ignoring my father, Mistress Paya turned to me. “Have you ever kissed a boy?” she asked.

“What? No!” Frowning, I also quietly added: “Yuck.”

The Mistress squinted at me and pursed her lips. She turned to Clarida and asked: “You have checked her, yes?”

“Of course, Mistress Paya,” Clarida answered with some discomfort. “As I’ve said when we spoke,” she added. Since the Mistresses just arrived, I assumed Clarida reported my incident to them earlier using some magical channel.

I did not remember being “checked”. Nor did I know what that meant, exactly. The last thing I saw before collapsing was a red flash, then the shovel hitting Tam’s head. When I woke, I was in a small bed in one of the rooms on the ground floor of Clarida’s tower. My parents were leaning over me, intently watching as Clarida’s magic swirled around my body. My head was pounding with pain, and when I complained, Clarida mumbled something about learning to get used to it.

For the first time, Mistress Paya turned to her companion. “What say you, Morgan?” she asked.

The beautiful Mistress looked me over and sighed. “They are not lying,” she said, not taking her eyes off mine. “But I think this hardly matters as the consequence is the same. The girl must come with us.” Morgan looked behind her, eyeing my mother.

“We will leave in the morning,” Mistress Paya stated matter-of-factly. “Clarida, can you arrange accommodations for my companions and myself?”

“Of course, Mistress Paya!” Clarida blushed. “I’ll have my Knights prepare the rooms.”

“Mistress,” Morgan interrupted. “We could just return tonight, and give the girl a few days to say goodbye to her family.”

“Sentimental nonsense,” Paya spat. “I am not about to endanger her, you and myself. This area is crawling with witches, and they’d like nothing better than to capture a young lady initiate while taking out a high-ranking Mistress and her apprentice. Neither of us has enough power to deal with any of that right now, so we’ll have the night to recharge and leave together at sunrise.” She paused, and Morgan lowered her head looking down, defeated. “Alright, maybe not at sunrise. I am exhausted.”

I stood there with my mouth open, tears suddenly streaming from my eyes. “Where are you taking me?” I demanded, just as Mistress Paya rose from her chair, turning to leave.

Mistress Paya stopped and looked down at me. “Where you belong,” she replied casually.

The Ladies and their escorts left as I stood planted in the same spot, sobbing. Lady Morgan was the only one who hesitated, stopping to look at me as though she wanted to say something.

When the door behind them closed, I let it all go. I dropped to my knees, burying my face in my hands as I cried. When I looked up, my mother hurried to comfort me, while my older sister spoke softly to my father, who was now tearing up too and trying to hide it by facing the corner. Though the window I could see the crowd outside following the carriage to Clarida’s tower.

That night I stopped being a child, I think. I did not sleep much. Instead, all six of us sat in front of the fireplace, talking and crying. I think I did most of the crying. After all, it wasn’t such a bad thing for my family. The Sisterhood would compensate them well for taking me away, and fewer mouths to feed is always easier for a household like ours. They knew I would be well taken care of, but we all knew we would miss each other.

It was very late, and my brothers were yawning in fatigue. They were obviously tired, having spent half the night trying to cheer me up with old embarrassing stories from my early childhood, and plots of world domination with my magical superpowers. Mother suggested I try to sleep, but I kept refusing. I was too scared and shaken by the events of the day to even try, knowing everything in my life would change in the morning.

Eventually, when the wood in the fireplace had all burnt out and I was out of tears, my father picked me up and carried me to my parents’ bed, the way he had when I was little. I curled up against my mother, eyes closed, hoping to open them to find out it was all a nightmare. Failing to fall asleep, I let my mind wander.

I wondered vaguely about alternatives. If I was to run away, I would be alone. Separated from my family and unprotected, I would be easy prey to the Free Witches. If I were to believe the stories of the teachers at school these wild women were mad from generations of unsupervised inbreeding, kidnapping men and raping them until they went mad or died. Other stories went as far as to claim that they sacrificed children to demons and communed with dark spirits, letting ancient evils use their bodies in the mortal world. I was afraid to think what they would do with me, a little girl with The Second Gift. The Sisterhood would protect me, but I did not know if I would ever see my birth family again.

Eventually I must have fallen asleep, but when my mother woke me, I was still as tired as I was when I went to bed. Breakfast was silent, all of us fatigued and emotional. We hugged a lot that morning, refusing to let go. In the end, my mother had to release me from her embrace and let me vanish into the mysterious black carriage.

Mistresses Paya and Morgan were waiting inside and I looked closely at Morgan as I climbed beside her. She smelled clean, like flowers and precious fabrics, and like someone who had better access to bathing than a village brat. I glanced out of the carriage window at my childhood home as the horses began to move. I wasn’t allowed to bring anything with me. No reminders of home, or toys to give me comfort. Such were the rules of the Sisterhood. This was no longer my family. The Sisterhood was.

I closed my eyes and focused on not crying. Before long, I was asleep. When the carriage stopped and I woke, my head was resting on Morgan’s lap. The curtain was drawn, so I peered out the carriage window to see where we had stopped. I recognized it immediately from the paintings in the books at the school in Redland – I was in the Citadel of Ladies - the nexus of magical power in the kingdom. It was mid-afternoon and the city was glowing in the summer light, it’s windows and towers reflecting a million shades of color onto the ancient streets and structures.

Never having been to a city before, I was dizzied by the sight. It was wondrous, but at the same time I felt like the houses were closing in on me. I struggled to breathe. Mistress Paya stood outside, speaking to one of the lady mothers of the initiates’ college. I could not hear what they were saying.

“Don’t worry, little one.” Morgan whispered at me and I straightened up, untangling my hair from the jewels on her belt. “It’ll all be alright.”

The Mistresses deposited me in the hands of the head lady mother, and rode away.

-=-=-

Notes:

My endless gratitude to the wonderful ladies (and gents) at @isleofwrite for reviewing, editing and holding my shaky hand.

Next chapter is next Saturday, but expect surprises prior.