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“And you, my Blades? Do you accept this Witch?”

“We do, Your Grace,” Fey answered for them. “We would be proud to call her sister.”

The Queen nodded, as though considering all the evidence before her. Then she stood.

“Kneel before me, Blade.” Queen Edelin commanded.

Willow approached the dais and knelt. The Queen descended the steps but did not approach Willow, not at first. She went instead to the items an attendant had placed at the base of the dais, off to the side.

She picked an item from the pile. A metal plate, fashioned to form the image of a dagger.

The mark of the Queen’s Blade.

The plate had a long handle rising from its back, and the Queen grasped it. She dipped the plate in a bowl of dark black ink.

“Earth,” she said as she dipped it. The ink coated the metal, and the inside of Fey’s arm, her Blade’s mark, twitched in response.

“Fire,” The Queen continued. She touched the metal image reverently, and it burst into flames.

When the Queen approached Willow where she knelt at the base of the dais, the air was full of tension. Sana, seated among the High Priestesses, looked away. She couldn’t watch.

But Fey could.

“Your arm, Blade.” Queen Edelin commanded.

Willow thrust her left arm out, holding the soft inner skin of her forearm out like a sacrifice.

“Air,” the Queen intoned, and as she pressed the brand to Willow’s arm, the flesh steamed.

Willow didn’t scream when the metal was held to her arm. Fey hadn’t either, and there was a measure of pride to it. To be able to accept that much pain silently.

When the Queen pulled the brand from Willow’s skin, the mark it left was dark and raised. A perfect match for the scars on Fey, Joy, and Lilith.

A ripple of pain shot through her mark, and Fey struggled to not react. At her side, Joy and Lilith stiffened, as a shadow of Willow’s pain seared through their marks and thundered through their bodies.

This was their secret. A secret hidden even from the Queen herself.

Through their marks, all pain was shared. Love, fear, hatred, and every emotion they felt tied the four of them together, braiding their lives together into one.

The four of them were more than sisters. They were parts of the same whole.

Queen Edelin put the branding iron down and lifted a pitcher above Willow’s arm.

“Water,” she said, pouring the salted water over the mark.

This time, Willow did scream.

“You did great, little one,” Joy purred in Willow’s ear as they helped her down the hall.

After the ceremony, Willow had managed to stand without aid. Stand, and bow, to her Queen and the four Priestesses, drawing her blades and holding them straight out from her sides in the traditional bow of their order. She’d even managed to make it out into the hallway, out of sight of all but her sisters, before collapsing.

“Lilith fainted,” Joy told her. “Before the metal even touched her, I think.”

“Fuck you, no I didn’t,” Lilith snapped, but the words held no real venom. Willow had done great, and Fey could feel Lilith’s pride humming through their mark. Willow gave them both a shaky smile, leaning her weight against Joy and Fey as they escorted her back to the Eastern Wing.

“Is it over, now?” Willow asked.

“One last thing,” Fey told her. “You need to get your final sigils. Then we’ll get you to bed and you can rest.”