Chapter 38

True to form, radiant sunshine embellished the Lady of Victories. Set within East London, this three-story edifice exhibited many hand-crafted architectures. Most notably, the shamanic spires that bolstered London's downtown skyline. More importantly, it stands eminent for its distinct syllabus, and due to Arch-Bishop Luen's guidance, scholars excel in the Wicca philosophy.

In the process, the synagogue faced rebuke due to its alleged ties to occultists, so Luen fortified his strict regiment of discipline. To such a degree, some pupils chose to study outside the mosque and defy its decrees. As this occurs, the sisterhood remained devoted, equally eager to defend the church's sanctity. This is precisely why, as the coven arrived, Luen graciously received them.

In traditional ankle-length black robes, his distinctive short, well-manicured hairline glistened. In effect, Luen was known as personable, but recent expressions stood contrary. In all probability, Leon would lose authority, so without a semblance of structure, the synagogue stands divided. In which case, while drawing close, he glared, and tightly clutched his infamous rosary.

“I thought we had trust between us,”

That said, Dena approached.

“Why would you think otherwise?”

Annoyed, Luen squinted, descended the stairs, and peered into each defiant face. Besides, he wasn't foolish and easily deciphered each unequivocal expression. In that, the sisters never disguised the truth, though Karen's exile stood indisputable. It is therefore, Dena refrained from speaking, and Sienna stepped forth.

“Why've you summoned us?”

On that premise, Luen directed his stare.

“You should've expected it,”

As time went by, Luen noted their anxiety, but held his own contempt. Over and above, he wanted the truth about Karen's condition, no matter how grave. Thus, Luen opened a ledger to a specific article of scripture, as identities changed like never before.

“The holy trinity,” Sienna noted, echoing the text. “Detailing the destinies of witches who've abandoned the church.”

Immediately, Dena closed in.

“Also, it outlines the proficiency required to summon the spirit -- moreover deemed a figment. A message of sorts?”

By degrees, Luen loomed.

“Ask Karen,”

That said, Lesley moved closer.

“She's a governing witch, nothing more,” she retorted. “Not counting, Karen's amid the ascension and has yet to embody her full power,”

Smirking, Luen retreated.

“In time, she will,” he affirmed. “Then, Karen’s strength will rival the elders.”

“Impossible,” Sienna proclaimed.

In orderly fashion, Luen compiled the ledgers.

“It's simple,” he divulged. “If your faith hasn't wavered, there's nothing to fear. Although, I suspect the latter, and with that comes consequence,”

Predictably, the girls stood defiant, abolishing any sense of subtlety. Although, Sienna was the first to acknowledge the reference.

“Karen intends to invoke the spirit,”

Without haste, Luen nodded.

“Even if it means her life,”

“What else?”

“Her illness isn't a hindrance, but a blessing,”

Since childhood, Luen had mentored the girls, but they'd since ascended and embraced their power. More than that, with their combined strength, Karen's equality with the coven remained shrouded in uncertainty. From this point of view, Luen felt betrayed despite the coven's inferred fidelity. By the same token, he was once a student himself, and with his mentor's absence, he'd implored his gospel. In parallel, Karen had weathered the distrust and refrained from expressing opposing opinions.

Given that, Luen accepted the rise of the modern-day occultist. So by all accounts, Karen's sinister transition wasn't a surprise. Comparably, external influences and a craving for mastery had changed her. In this way, with Karen's future unclear, once-shadowed ambitions had come alive.