Hells Gate

Prologue 

  Clare stared down into her lap where her hands rested, closely pressed together. Nervousness could be felt in her entire body, from her head to her toes. This was a day that could change her life forever or leave it as it was. Today was the day when the priestesses from the temple would come down to the village and the head priestess would chose between all six year old girls in the village. Afterwards the chosen girls were brought to the temple where they would begin their training to become priestesses. The room was warm and Clare could feel sweat running down her leg. Clare had been lost in her own thoughts and hadn't noticed her mother, Cassandra entering the room. She became startled when Cassandra took a hold of her hair and brought a comb through it. Clare looked in the mirror, she was a replica of her mother, only younger. They had the same facial structure and the same blonde hair.

"It's so warm in here, don't you think?" Cassandra said and let go of Clare's hair. She opened the window and immediately let in a faint breeze that explored the room and played with Clare's hair. The wind didn't only bring some cool to the room but also the sound of the birds singing. A regular day would've brought chatter from the villagers as well but on this particular day this wasn't the case. Everybody was home and prepared for the ceremony and the possible celebration afterwards.

Cassandra braided Clare's hair into a tight braid that reached down to her shoulders. She made sure that no strolls of hair escaped the braid and sighed.

"Mom, are we going to leave soon?" The voice came from the doorway and belonged to Clare's sister, Megan. She was the direct opposite of her sibling and mother and strongly resembled their father. She had thin, brown hair and wore it in a loose ponytail. Her face was quite chubby and her broad nose filled the middle part of her face. Megan was one year older than Clare and she had done the ceremony the year before. Clare remembered being just as nervous then, she couldn't think of a life without her dear sister, her best friend. Megan hadn't been chosen and so were no one else. The amount of girls being chosen each year differed heavily, sometimes no one was chosen and sometimes up to ten was chosen. Cassandra turned around and smiled "Yes, we're leaving now," Cassandra said and grabbed Clare's hand.

The sun beamed down on them from above and the streets lay abandoned. Cassandra's hand was sweaty and Clare had a hard time holding on to it. She did everything she could to bring the pace down and hoped that she wouldn't arrive on time so that she would miss the ceremony. If she could have one wish in this very moment she knew exactly what she would wish for, not being chosen. She just wanted to continue on with her life, living with her mother and sister and in a distance future marry her true love.

"Clare, stop dragging your feet behind you!" Cassandra said and stopped to look Clare into the eyes.

"But I don't want to be chosen, I don't," Clare said and her lip shivered a few times. Tears weren't far away. "I want to live with you and Megan."

Cassandra squatted down in front of Clare and took her into her arms "You won't be chosen, on my honour as a mother, you won't," Cassandra said and felt how Clare nuzzled in to her chest. She felt how the fabric became wet, Clare was crying. Cassandra let her and stayed quiet for a while. When the tears stopped coming she ended the hug and took Clare's hand once again and continued walking. The houses became bigger as they reached the village centre.

Cassandra left Clare in the middle of the village centre along with fifteen other girls, all six years old. Friends and family waited at the edges of the centre ready to take their daughters home. Clare looked around the centre and noticed that the gathered adults looked strange. She recognized many faces, faces who used to be lit up by a smile. But today these faces were stern and emotionless. The centre was entirely silent and no one even made an attempt to speak. In the corner of the centre she saw the priestesses sitting on a wooden bench. They had no facial expression and could just as well be statues. The thing that gave them away was the sign of breathing and that they had the colour of the living. The priestesses wore big, white robes that didn't show any figure at all. Clare remembered that her mother had told her that the robes were made from wool which came from the sheep down in the farmlands.

One priestess in particular caught Clare's attention, the priestess in the middle. She was old and wrinkles clearly marked her entire face, some were deep and some looked like they just appeared. Her cheeks were sunken and her grey eyes tired. Her thin, brown hair was pinned in a tight bun and a midnight blue hat rested on her head. She constantly corrected the hat with a bony hand.  She was the head priestess, Olanda and she was the one who chose the girls. Legends say that she chooses the girls that are pointed out by a higher power but the rumours in the village said that she was a crazy old woman and that she didn’t know what she was doing.

 The head priestess stood up with great effort and the crowd grew quite. “Dear villagers. Today we will once again choose which of these lovely young girls that will join us in the temple”, she said every word with labour and her voice shook. A crying woman could be heard from the back of the crowd. Olanda’s eyes went over the line with girls. She raised a bony finger and pointed at a chubby, brown haired girl with the name Hedda. Hedda's face sunk instantly and the wide smile she wore seconds ago was washed away.

The crowd breathed out and someone started to cry. Between the weeps it was easy to tell that is was a man crying. It was Hedda’s father. She was the only “thing” he had left of her mother. He got comforted by the others around him but silently they were all happy that it was Hedda that’d been chosen and not their own daughter.

 Olanda raised her hand again and pointed on a thin, black haired girl named Ravenna. This time there was no crying or sound at all. Ravenna had four brothers and two sisters, her parents were probably glad to be rid off her. One less mouth to feed. Even though her parents didn’t cry, Ravenna did. She looked at them but met cold eyes. She tried to keep her sobbing quiet but she didn’t succeed.

The finger was raised once again and the crowd took a deep breath. The finger stayed on Clare. She looked around her, no one said a word. They looked relieved as Clare probably was the last girl to be chosen. Cassandra was nowhere to be seen and the feeling of betrayal sunk down in Clare. Cassandra had promised that this wouldn’t happen but it did. It was too much to take in for a six year old and she broke down and started to cry. Panic crept over Clare; she couldn’t believe that from this day she would be trained to be a priestess. Her worst nightmare had become reality.

The finger wasn't raised again and Olanda said, “Thank you, that’s all. We will take our leave without further due."

The priestesses left the stage in a slow but determined walk, as if they thought that they were better than the villagers. Three of the four younger priestesses took the hand of one of the girls.

Tears started rolling down Clare’s face as she followed the priestesses. She pulled in her dress and tears dripped, making the dress darker where they fell. The cobblestones were uneven and the three girls had a hard time keeping up with the older priestesses. All three was crying. The crowd left the plaza and went home. Most families would celebrate tonight and spoil their daughters. Clare looked at the temple that constantly grew closer. It was a big building with thick stone walls. Trees and flowers could be seen. The priestesses own herb garden could be seen from this distance. Her new life lay behind those walls, whether she liked it or not. 

Hope you liked it! The amazing cover was made of @MyCalmInsanity so thank you for the amazing cover. Be sure to leave a small comment (or big) and tell me what you thought. If you liked it, don't forget to vote.

This is a rewrite and you could call it somewhat edited.