The moon rose over the longest night of the year. Snow had fallen, still and crystallized. The air, chill and frost laden, did not move, as if in some inspired stasis. Anticipation hung thick, vibrating along the nerves of any that came within a distance of this. The shadow at the center roiled, making one who watched wonder if it might be alive. And yet, most anyone could not bring themselves to watch that abyssal portal for long. It disturbed.

White met midnight, land and sky. The moon rose up, well balanced in her face. The hours of dark were long, the shadows danced and tarried deeply, even over the pure canvas of snow. One priestess, dressed in robes the shade of the shadows that gathered around her. For that moment in time, she appeared as exactly what she was, an abyssal priestess, unfearing of the chasm.

The only color or flash of light to be found on the tiny figure was the moon silver dagger in her hand. Wickedly curved, it was more a kris in it's makings. Within the handle, heavy stones of onyx embellished the wrought design. A keen eye might catch the odd etching over the blade. It was no design ever seen by the human eye before, but this tiny priestess barely qualified as such a thing anymore. In the etching, something black sat within, creating a veining along the silvering of the blade.

She walked deosil over the snow, consecrating the area with her dagger. Like a band of flexible, yet impassable thread, the circle's power snapped into place. It would keep things welcome in, or let them in, or keep the uninvited out. Eyes would be blinded to all but the results of this night's work.

The cloaked woman walked forward to her altar, sliding the blade into it's place on the very stone, hilt up. Her hands went to hollowed places that seemed perfectly shaped for them, shallow little cups with small holes bored into them. Those dainty hands settled. A soft hiss and moan rent the air, and the tiny figure stepped back, her hands held like a supplicant offering from her palms.

She walked the circle, and the ruby droplets stained the purity of the white. Each garnet jewel that struck the ground seemed to resonate in sound into the night air, the clear call of bells. A tolling it was, for Him. When once more she stepped into the first set of her footsteps, a deeper tone split the night. Sleeves fell back as her hands lifted to the dark sky, revealing the icy paleness of her arms. The crimson liquid ran in rivulets down her forearms.

Her hood fell back, revealing hair the same color of the expanse that she seemed to offer to. Her eyes gleamed a silvered lavender before the lashes fell closed. The wounds on her hands closed, and the blood dried. It would not be washed away. It would be sign, tribute and marking.

Her hands came together in echoing applause, if not appearing somewhat macabre in fashion. As her hands came together, a wide circle began to form of metal contraptions, eleven in all. A closer look reveals that the contraptions are very much iron maiden in look and style.

The priestess stood motionless in the center of this, and time would pass. The first phase was done. She appeared to be focusing herself.

As the pedestal rose, a voice reached a very sleepy dragon.  Her eye lids fluttered lightly as she roused from her state.  One of the sleeves of her robe fell back as the back of her hand rubbed her eyes in an attempt to clear the fog.  Pulling herself out of the stupor slowly, the dragon looked around through the hazy world.  She knew the voice of her onee-san, she tried to focus on the world.  Shaking her head she tried to clear some of the cobwebs from her mind, however the world remained fuzzy.  She looked around trying to find the priestess.  "Onee-san?" her voice was quiet and shaky.

The dragon's eyes fell on the scene in front of her.  As she watched her onee-san approach the girl in the metal device, she felt herself drawn in.  Her eyes widened slightly as she watched, however she remained calmer than something told her that she should have been.  Watching and listening to the priestess she couldn't pull herself from watching the scene.  She cringed slightly and a small noise escaped her lips as the blade pierced the girl’s neck.  Caught between the ecstatic and tranquilizing effect that she was under and her heart racing, she shook lightly but couldn't tear herself away.

Homura rubbed her eyes again and her breathing slowed as Aska addressed her.  Confusion lingering in her eyes for a moment as the blade remained at her Onee-san's lips.  The dragon instinctually edged closer to the priestess as she approached.  Taking in the words she nodded slowly, the tension still palpable.  It didn't feel entirely right, but Onee-san had never steered her wrong before.  "They have sinned? So they must pay with their life, their blood?"  She blinked slowly letting the words sink in.  I will get to meet him tonight?"  Her eyes widened slightly, before she nodded more adamantly.  "No one should be held captive.  If he is being held against his will he must be freed."  The little dragon was quite sure of this.  Being held against ones will, being bound a captive, it made sense to fight these, to seek freedom.

The young dragon smiled brightly as the priestess hugged her and ruffled her hair.  If the man wanted to meet her, then she would be happy to bear witness to him rising again.  It was clear from Aska's words that this should be seen as a privilege, and she knew that her big sister would not hurt her.  She trusted her Onee-san and followed her to the alter as she was led.  When asked about the Latin she had given the nod that Aska had looked for.  Singing the words in the way she was shown she chanted steadily, her voice sweet but strong.  "Umbra et inane, tenebris et mortis. Fractis catenis posuit tenebris Deum liberum."

As she continued chanting she watched what was going on in front of her with curious eyes.  She watched her sister speak with the man, show him respect.  Listening to the words the man spoke, Mura knew she didn't know much about what was transpiring.  However she could tell that the man before them deserved respect as she watched the interaction.  Hearing the other man scream in outrage she could guess that he was not in for the same treatment as the one Onee-san had just dealt with.  The young dragon still cringed slightly as the older man's life was ended, but its swift painless manner made it easier to watch.

Once more centered, the little priestess straightened up, swapping out the bloodied white robes for her black robes once again. She stood in the circle stained crimson with the life's blood of 5. Her fingers snapped, and the other six chambers began to creak and groan, much has the last had. This time, no screaming may be heard, but blood and other liquids flow from the metal cages, filling the rest of the sigil on the ground. Once surrounded by the flowing ruby liquid, Aska looks down, and makes absolutely sure that the entire sigil is well blooded.

Once satisfied, she stands straight, and turns each direction one at a time, facing an object slowly. She begins with Space, the object a hollowed urn etched in story. Unimportant was the tale, just that this object had been held as favored by the Lord of Space himself. She began a soft chant, her palms together. One of those hands raised, and violet eyes flashed open to silver in the moonlight as a jolt of lightning lanced through the sky and struck the urn, shattering the thing to pieces. "Where Space once was, so might it be restored to my lord." Spoke the priestess softly.

Next in line was Matter, and he himself had prized water above all else, so on the pedestal sat a small vial of water. Such a simple thing by the looks of it, but the properties of the water inside were known to be sacred, and dangerous to most anything of the darkness. Which was why it was so fitting to call upon the dark fire. She heated the vial until even that water could do nothing but evaporate. And then she heated it further, the black flames reflected in her eyes eerily. The vial itself shattered in the heat. "Matter will have hold no longer, a chain broken."

The artifact for Time was by far more elaborate, a beautiful hourglass that the sand never ceased to flow inside of. The symbol of time's constant passage. Because this had been the lord that stood so very staunchly against her own, she would need aid from another side to destroy the thing. So came the artifact for Light. Hers was simple, yet breathtaking. A many faceted and clear jewel that reflected any light source into prisms of color. The tiny priestess used this as an amplifier, the natural energy and vibration of the stone perfect for the job. Nearly all of her power funneled through the gem, the energy jumping straight from jewel to hourglass. Dark light and white light coalesced into one stream and it frissioned like electricity over the glass. At nearly the same time, both stone and hourglass erupted in a flash, leaving behind nothing but shattered remnants.

The fifth pedestal remained empty, purposefully so. Each object had locked him away, his taken from him, but no magick needed be cast upon it. That same thing had been returned to him. It now sat on his hand as he waited in the shadows. Here, the priestess waited, gathering her wits about her to weave another spell.

Soon enough, the priestess got her wish. A teenage boy, no older than 17, appeared in the dark. His hood was down, which let his spiky, blonde, hair shake slightly in the wind. He stood there, not really knowing why, but it felt right. His weapon, the keyblade, was in his left hand, toyed with slightly. His eyes quickly scanned the room, and they fell on the silent priestess.

"The power to protect the one I care for. That is all I ask." The boy said, watching the woman carefully.

Tatsuya thought back. She was always there, and she had saved him on many occasion. He nodded, his actions being justified in his head. He slowly pointed his keyblade to the shadows, where the lock revealed itself. A bright light emitted from the keyblade, and into the lock.