The Hour of Ascension

The first slivers of moonlight illuminate a sordid scene through the attic’s window. A crowd of cowled figures is standing in the middle of a circle of candles, whispering and looming over a lone woman. She is struggling with the restraints on her wrists and ankles and drawing short, angry breaths through the cloth that has been clumsily tied across her mouth. The gathering consists of black-clad men with one exception: the Grand Wizard of the Order of the Twin Deities of the Divine Slime and the Exalted Eczema, brother Dan – secretly known as LustyDan69 on Reddit – who is wearing heavy purple robes and thoughtfully stroking the wispy hair on his neck. He raises his hands and beckons the others to silence. 

“Brothers, I am so proud of each and every one of you. I look at you and I see myself. Hard-working menfolk, ready to reap the fruits of our labour. The hour of our ascension is upon us and we must make haste. Cecilia here has kindly obliged to offer herself in the service of our cause. Please join me in a solemn celebration of her participation.” The men all bow their heads in a chorus of “Thank you, Cecilia”, “Cheers, sister”, “Yeah, thanks, you’re great.” Cecilia squirms and wriggles on the floor before voicing a muffled, drawn out “Losers”. Imperiously ignoring her, the Grand Wizard continues: “There is but one remaining step before we can embrace the Sanctifying Mucus. Brother Marcus? Bring forth the ceremonial blade.”

Marcus fumbles with his robes and whimpers: “Um, eh, I seem to have misplaced it. I knew I shouldn’t have washed these robes yesterday. There wasn’t that much dirt on them anyway and it won’t even show and I keep losing my coins and keys when I do that and I didn’t find out it was my turn to hold the blade until the day before yesterday you know and I’m still learning the ropes and it’s a great honour and all but there’s so much stress and can we use like a gun or something I mean it’s cleaner and the dagger is so heavy I held it once...”

“Silence!” All colour drains from the Grand Wizard’s grim visage. “You mean to tell me that at this, the final test of our unwavering faith, you have somehow managed to lose the instrument of our reckoning? You had one job, Brother Marcus!” He rubs his face for a while while the others fidget and try to ignore Cecilia’s “Are you for real?” and “Boo, you suck”.  The Wizard composes himself and motions at someone else. “Brother Kevin. Shall we enact the Thirteenth Night protocol?”

“Certainly, Grand Wizard. Shall we enact it right now or postpone the ceremony until everyone is suitably informed or...”

“You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Of course I do, sir. We proceed to strike the virgin with our bare hands in reverse hierarchical order until she expires. May I prepare the ritual?

“That is not the protocol, Brother. Why have you all come so unprepared? You were aware of the significance of the occasion.”

“Grand Wizard, sir, do you mean the protocol where we leave the virgin unattended until she dies of her own volition?”

“I certainly don’t. We have voted against including that in our disposal methods due to its impractical and time-consuming manner. Were you not in the preparatory meeting on Thursday?”

“I’m sorry, your most terrifying excellence. I remember now. We pick one in our midst who is brave and strong and cunning so that they may find an alternative disposal method. The sacrifice will occur on time, have no fear. If you don’t mind clarifying one tiny detail? Do we vote on the bearer of this responsibility by using the venerated short straw method or do we roll the demon dice?”

“Brother Kevin. If you had been present at any of our meetings from last month you would know that Brother Stanley has swallowed the demon dice in a futile effort to ingratiate himself with our masters. Seeing as the expected demonic defecation has yet to occur, the dice is out of the question. As for the short straw procedure, it has been decided that is too banal and undignified for our order. As such, I will invoke my authority and take it upon myself to choose tonight’s executioner. Brother Fergus, step forth.”

A lanky. jittery man approaches. “It will be my pleasure, Grand General, Wizard, sir.” 

“Good. See to it that she’s quietly taken care of. We’ll be outside.” Someone shouts “Good luck, you got this!” and there’s a smattering of “Hear, hear!” before they all shuffle out and the trapdoor creaks to a close, leaving Fergus alone with Cecilia.

He gives her a quick timid look and steps closer. She lets out a long exasperated sigh. He kneels over her, trembling slightly. She draws her feet close to her body and stares him down. “Just...just let me do this?” Fergus pleads. “It will be better for all of us, you’ll see. The new world order will have a place for you. You can be one of Eczema’s undead concubines. They’re very nice, everyone loves them. Just stop moving, ok? I’ll make it fast.” 

He reaches out for her and she snarls, making him jump. “Touch me and I’ll kick your balls up your throat”, she growls. 

Fergus makes a mental note to issue a formal complaint about Brother Jerry’s ineffectual attempt to bind the virgin’s mouth. Sacrifices should be seen and not heard. “Can you be quiet, please? This isn’t personal. Virginal females play an important role in our order. It’s an honour to be chosen.” 

“I’m not a virgin, idiot.” 

“You...you’re not? Brother Jerry heard you say you’d rather dive-bomb into a pit of needles than have sex with a man and...oh. This is bad, no? This is really bad. I’ll be right back.” He nervously scrambles away. 

Finally alone, Cecilia grabs the chance she’s been waiting for all evening. She positions her wrists over a candle’s flames, grimacing at the painful heat until the rope burns away and she snaps her arms free. She unties her legs and stretches to an upright position. A couple of minor burns and sore limbs are all they’re going to get from her tonight. She puts her ear against the trapdoor and listens to the heated arguments from below:

“...most irregular. The scriptures don’t mention anything about…”

“...I told you to ask for an update in the last divination...”

“Look, was there penetration involved? Did you ask her?”

“Sir, what she does with her friends is her business. We are an inclusive organisation...”

“...it is clarified in the footnotes that at the point of orgasm, if one holds pure thoughts...”

“...the hymen is a myth...”

She gets up in a groan and a roll of the eyes before checking the window, which has of course been left unlocked. She looks around outside and spots the nearby drainpipe. There’s only one thing left to do before climbing down and getting as far away as possible. Candles, meet curtain. 

When the Order of the Twin Deities of the Divine Slime and the Exalted Eczema realise what’s happening, they have a vote on whether they can reinstate the short straw selection process in an emergency in order to bestow the privilege to an individual of determining the most efficient course of action in extinguishing a roaring blaze. With inconclusive results and time running out, they come to the agreement instead that in the event of a botched sacrifice the most appropriate course of action is to surrender to collective purification by flame. As it turns out, bargain bin robes are especially well suited to the circumstances. The fire makes for a soothing spectacle on a cold moonlit night.