Elder Griffin whispered something in her ear. She repeated it with a mouth that felt alien and strange, a voice rusty with nerves. I request the parameters of the Binding.
The parameters of the Binding are these: That you will not speak of your purpose to anyone but those authorized to know it. That you will not act with disloyalty against the Church. That what you hear of your purpose after the words of Binding are spoken, and until they are retracted, will not be repeated by you to anyone but those authorized. That you will repeat them to those authorized when told to do so. Do you accept those parameters?
Another whisper from Elder Griffin. Who are those authorized?
Those authorized are Elder Thompson. Elder Griffin. The Grand Elder. Lauren Abrams, Third Inquisitor of the Black Squad. Those authorized will also be those names given to you by the aforementioned. Do you accept those parameters?
What are the penalties of breaking the Binding?
The Binding is unbreakable.
No Binding is unbreakable.
If this Binding is broken the penalty is thus: That the spirits of the First Elders will punish you. That the First Elders will remove you from your body and discard it. That you will be taken to the spirit prisons and left there until the First Elders shall determine you have been punished enough.
She shivered. They werent fucking around. But then she hadnt imagined they would be.
Cesaria Putnam, do you accept these parameters?
Purple swirled before her eyes; purple flames, purple energy. The First Elders, standing in silent disapproval around her, were translucent, purple glowing through them. Elder Thompson was simply a hulking black shape, barely visible in the vibrant light.
Cesaria Putnam, do you accept these parameters?
She licked her lips. I do accept them.
Elder Thompson muttered something; her arms lifted again. Her breath rattled in her chest, she knew what was coming and she didnt want to look, didnt want to see, but she couldnt help it that her eyes wouldnt close
Bright violet shrieked off the edge of the blade, just before Elder Griffin brought it down over her wrists in a quick, decisive slice.
Her nerves vibrated. Dimly she felt the pain, a cold prickle beneath the skin, but the magical control holding her kept the worst of it at bay.
She saw it though. Saw her blood burble up from the wounds like purple-black ink, like oil bubbling from a fault in the surface of the earth, and fall on the smoking pile of herbs at her feet. She hadnt seen either of the Elders move it but there it was, the purple flames flashing red when her blood hit it.
Cesaria Putnam, you are Bound. Bound to obey the strictures of this agreement. From this moment forward you will not speak of what you are told. Say you are Bound.
I am Bound. The words felt sick and slimy in her mouth.
The First Elders came forward. One of them carried a blade, a real one not a spectral one, shining purple. Her tattoos screamed; her soul screamed.
The blade rose. The ghosthow did that work; she didnt knowhed sliced their wrists. Each of the ghosts had a wound, a gaping mouth dribbling whitish ectoplasm. Dripping it into her similar wounds. It stung and burned, it raced into her bloodstream, ran through her body, a blast of power and fear and icy death that chilled her even as it set her afire.
Cesaria Putnam, you are Bound. Bound to obey the commands of those aforementioned in speaking of what you are about to hear. Say you are Bound.
I am Bound.
Dizziness swam up through her stomach, to her chest, to her head. The First Elders continued to invade her. Her blood continued to flow from her wounds, sizzling onto the fire below them like fat drippings onto firecans in the Market. She smelled it, blood mixed with the herbs, changing the scent into something like cinnamon and copper.
The fire rose, blinding purple. Rose at her feet and rose inside her. Sweat poured down her forehead and neck, between her breasts. Her bangs clung to her forehead.
Cesaria Putnam, kneel.
Her knees gave way. She didnt feel them hit the floor but knew they had.
Richtaru bessiden amacha. Elder Thompsons voice rose, thick and strong above the roaring in her ears, the rasping desperation of her breath in her lungs. Smoke curled around her, pressed against her power, twined with it, wrapped around her like a hot, heavy wet blanket.
By my power you are Bound. By your power you are Bound. By your blood and bones you are Bound. By the power of the Church, by the power of the Truth, by the power of the First Elders and the earth you are Bound.
Flames danced before her eyes, blurred with tears and stinging sweat. Too hot, it was too hot in there, she was losing too much blood
Let the Binding be sealed!
The flames leapt, scorching her face. Something poured over her wrists, it seared her skin, stank of herbs. She looked at her arms, watched the thick reddish water pour over her, felt it enter her bloodstream and burn its way up her arms, to her chest, to her brain.
Her throat ached. She was screaming. Screaming so loud and so long she barely felt the Binding lock into place when her wounds healed over. Barely felt something snap in her skull, in her body.