United. (Book 5 of the Lupus Antiqua Series)

Abby was just sitting down with her morning tea when the phone rang. She froze and stared at it, dread forming in the pit of her stomach.

Endymion thought nothing of it until it rang a third time and she still hadn't moved. He looked at her expectantly and she sighed before getting up and picking up the receiver hesitantly.

"Hello." She said quietly.

"Abigail. You are called upon." The voice of her coven's matron was soft yet made of steel. An off duality that made the woman somehow more intimidating.

"I understand, Matron. When will you arrive?" She wondered.

"Within the hour, dear. Ready yourself." There was a pause. "And perhaps warn your guest as well." Without any further word, the Matron hung up. She gulped.

Of course the Matron knew about Endymion. It didn't matter that she hadn't told anyone he was coming, and she knew that Amara sure hadn't. But Matrons earned that title for a reason. It was hard to get anything past them.

She turned to Endymion who looked concerned at her expression.

"What is it, Abby?" He questioned.

"The Matron is coming. I must perform my duty." She said sadly, plopping down in her chair across from him. "I should warn you, it won't be pleasant."

"What is your duty?" He asked.

"It has to do with being an Imperium. You know that True Witches are incredibly powerful, right?" She wasn't bragging, it was just a fact; like saying the sky is blue, or the ocean has fish in it.

"Indeed. I remember the witch wars." He murmured, face paling slightly. She nodded.

"Well, sometimes there are True Witches who decide that the rules that govern us don't matter and they can do whatever they want to.

Sometimes, that involves people like Amara, who practice magic in ways that aren't approved by the High Witches. They mean no harm, but they are practicing illegally." She explained.

"Hence her banishment to Russia." He stated, nodding his understanding.

"Exactly. But there are also True Witches who decide that using their power to harm others for sport is okay. Usually, those are stripped of their power and then shunned.

Then there are True Witches who use their powers against other witches, inciting feuds and sewing rebellion. These witches must be made an example of.

When there is no Imperium they are usually cursed. I won't get into the details, but it's nasty. However, when an Imperium is around, they bring those True Witches to that Imperium. In this case, me." She swallowed more tea.

"And what must you do?" He questioned softly.

"I must enter their mind, force them to relive everything they've done wrong, and then remove their ability to access their power. I must allow their lack of power to sink in, then I must remove their ability to speak, write, or eat.

After that, the Matron will take them to the head coven where they will be put on display, suffering and unable to eat until they die of starvation." She admitted, hating what she had to do.

"The requirements of great power are often terrible." He murmured. "I was once a King. I understand this well."

She sighed in relief. She was worried he would judge her for doing what she was supposed to be doing.

"Thank you for understanding." She smiled at him.

"How often must you do this?" He wondered.

"Well, you've heard what happens to rebel witches. Not often. This will be the fourth time since I came into my full power. I wonder what they did." She sighed.

"Were any of them innocent or deserving of reprieve?" He asked, curious.

"Actually, they were all far worse than the charges against them. The Matrons condemn no one unless they have done something worthy of condemnation. They're very careful about that." She said.

"They would have to be." He replied.

"Why do you say that?"

"The Matrons may be powerful, but they are vastly outnumbered. If they were needlessly cruel, they wouldn't last long." He shook his head. "Corrupt leaders pay for it in the end."

There was a personal self deprecation in that sentence and she was curious enough to want to explore that further, push him for answers about himself, but she didn't have time.

"I'll be right back. I need to change into the garb." She pushed her everyday clothing aside and pulled out her garb. True Witches were nothing if not traditional, and ritual was a huge part of their lives. Abby was no different.

She pulled on the flowing black skirt, leaving her feet bare. The top covered everything but clung to her. It had a wide neck that bared her collarbones. The sleeves were sheer in some places, the solid portion shaping the form of a snake winding down her arms, with a loop for the middle finger on each sleeve.

Upon her forehead she place a tiara. It was a simple band entirely made of moonstone. Most Witch tiaras had some celestial body or symbol that corresponded with whatever their specialization was.

Hers had no symbol because he power was in the mind. Hidden. Secret. It was made of moonstone, because moonstone aided with divination, and the power of an Imperium fell under that category.

Around her neck, a choker of obsidian rested; a stone meant to protect her. That's why her outfit was entirely black. Her hair she let down to flow loose.

She looked in the mirror and sighed. This wasn't who she was. This was what her power required of her.

With her hair down and wavy, flowing to mid back, bare feet and the outfit, she looked like a faery who'd wandered in from a mist shrouded moor; feral and dangerous and frightening. Definitely not who she really was.

But there was no room now for doubt. No time to resent this unsavory duty. It was time to do what she'd been born to do, be and Imperium.