"Charles, I've found something! Come and see!"

 

His wife's voice betrayed the excitement she was feeling. Charles set aside the ancient manuscript he was perusing, his place carefully marked with a silk ribbon. 

 

"What is it, dear?" he asked as he moved to her side. Alexandra was seated at her desk, studying a second manuscript as old as the one Charles was reading.

 

The pair of tomes were among a small trove of archaic records that Charles had recently purchased from a Dutch merchant. They were purported to contain knowledge of an occult or spiritual nature, which was a subject both Charles and Alexandra were especially interested in. Of course, it wasn't the sort of thing one discussed openly, but Charles and his wife had certain connections. 

 

Indeed that was how the two of them came to meet six years previously. He was twenty-eight at the time, and she was nineteen. They met at her uncle's home. George Langdon was the leader of a small group of spiritualists and occult enthusiasts, and his niece Alexandra had been curious so he invited her along. The young Alexandra caught Charles's eye, and the two wound up quite taken with each other. They were wed only a few months later.

 

That was in sixteen-ninety-nine. Now it was seventeen-aught-five. Charles was thirty-four, Alexandra was twenty-five, and the two were still as smitten with each other as they'd been when they first met that fateful evening.

 

He was a tall, handsome man. Charles had dark hair and blue eyes, a slightly tanned complexion. He was fit and reasonably well-off. He came from a family that was somewhat well-to-do, but the Teasdales had backed the wrong side in the Civil War, and subsequently fell from favour. 

 

The fourth son of a second son, Charles Teasdale had a modest home and a modest heritage, but there was little chance of much more.

 

Alexandra was a beautiful young woman, with long flowing blonde hair, brilliant green eyes and fair unblemished skin. She was a slight woman, standing only five-foot-two, but her small stature was part of her charm, at least as far as Charles was concerned.

 

Charles looked over his wife's shoulder as she indicated the section she was looking at.

 

"See here? This talks of a Goddess, similar to the Roman Minerva. The section goes on to describe her rituals..."

 

Alexandra turned to look up at him, an excited smile on her face. "I think this is enough for us to attempt the ritual, Charles!"

 

Her enthusiasm was contagious, and Charles fought to suppress a grin of his own.

 

"What's the source?" he asked, his eyes on the manuscript. "Where does this ritual come from?"

 

His wife turned back a few pages as she replied, "The Goddess and ritual come from a Germanic tribe known as the Frisii. The actual account comes from a retired Roman soldier who fought in the area, under the emperor Constantius Chlorus."

 

Charles slowly read through the text, translating from Latin to English on the fly. The account was surprisingly detailed. It seemed that the soldier in question had spent the better part of a year stationed in that part of Europe, and he was an inquisitive and intelligent man. He got to know some of the people his emperor was fighting, and he learned some of their ways. 

 

On the next page, he read that the soldier, on his retirement from the Legion, took to writing out some of the stories he'd learned in his travels. Some of those stories fell into the hands of a later historian who transcribed them, and those accounts in turn wound up as part of this manuscript.

 

Charles turned back to the page with the actual ritual, and he carefully read through it while his wife watched. She still wore that same excited smile on her face. And the more Charles read, the more his grin came to match that of his young wife.

 

The text described in sufficient detail a ritual to summon the Goddess. The name of the Goddess was given as 'Menerwal', and the ritual appeared genuine. It spoke of a 'vessel' who would become the Goddess's representative among the mortals, and a holy person or priest who would perform the ritual and partner with the vessel. 

 

According to the text, when the vessel and priest worked together they were able to command the power of the Goddess herself. They were able to work magic and miracle, by harnessing and controlling the divine power.

 

"Alexandra, this is it!" he grinned at her triumphantly. "This is what we've been searching for all these years, and you my lovely wife have found it!"

 

"It is but a week until the moon is full, Charles." Alexandra's smile grew wider. "Shall we attempt it? Have we time to make the preparations?"

 

He nodded, "We will make time!"

 

Of course they both needed to re-read the manuscript, they'd need to ensure they hadn't mistaken anything, or missed anything. He and his wife would need to know as much as they could about this ancient Goddess before they summoned her.

 

Still, they had a week. It was more than enough time to study, to learn, and to make the necessary preparations.

 

 

"Shall we begin?" Charles asked.

 

"Yes," Alexandra replied. She was trying to maintain a serious, solemn expression, but the corners of her mouth were turned up as she fought to suppress a smile.

 

It was late, the house was dark and still. The street outside was illuminated by the moon, shining full in the night sky.

 

They'd moved most of the furniture out of the room, leaving only two chairs against the wall. The floor was clear, and a circle of salt was laid out on the floor. The only light was from the embers glowing in the fireplace, and from the solitary candle that Alexandra held. 

 

Both of them were dressed in dark robes, but neither wore anything beneath. Charles held a small sharp knife in his right hand, and in his left he was holding the old manuscript, incase they needed to make last-minute references. In addition to the candle, Alexandra held the sheet of paper upon which they had carefully copied out all the steps of the ritual.

 

They had both confirmed each other's translations. The Goddess in question was of the Frisii. She was their equivalent to the Minerva of Rome. She was a Goddess of Wisdom and of Warfare. Her domain was not war in the violent and bloody way that Mars or Ares were Gods of War, but rather, this 'Menerwal' seemed to be more about strategy, planning, and plotting. The intellectual side of war.

 

Of course, neither Charles or Alexandra had any great aspirations of war or conquest. It was the power, the magic, and the knowledge that they were after. Once they had control of that power they would use it to improve their lives in several ways. But their ambitions were strictly personal and primarily financial.

 

Charles and Alexandra stepped into the salt circle together. Charles set the ancient tome down on the floor for now, and took the large sheet of paper from his wife. While she held the candle, he began reading out the first part of the ancient ceremony.

 

The text was fairly clear that the Goddess could only be summoned by one of her priests, so as the first step, Charles would dedicate himself to her as priest. After he read out the last part of the oath, he used the small knife to open a small cut on his left fore-arm. It was a symbolic offering, giving his life-blood to the Goddess. Once it was done, he set the knife down on the floor next to the manuscript. 

 

He looked to Alexandra and asked her, "Are you ready, my love?" His voice was low, solemn, serious.

 

She nodded, "I am." There was excitement in her voice, and a smile on her lips as she looked up into his eyes.

 

Charles then took the candle from her and stood before her. He began reading the next passage aloud.

 

As he did, Alexandra gasped quietly. Small flickering lights appeared in the air around them both, encircling them. The flickering lights were not unlike small fireflies. They were tiny points of light that appeared and vanished again, before the eye could properly focus on them.

 

The lights seemed to come into being above the circle of salt, but as Charles continued reading they started migrating inwards towards himself and his wife. 

 

He fought to keep his voice steady and to maintain his focus on the text rather than the supernatural lights that had the two of them surrounded.

 

The lights seemed to ignore him as they continued moving in closer to Alexandra. Soon they were almost surrounding her, head to toe. Then as he finished the ritual, the little flickers of light all settled directly on her body, and finally faded from view.

 

Charles looked at her, his heart pounding with adrenaline and uncertainty. "Alexandra?"

 

She nodded, "I'm fine." 

 

She took the page and started reading the last part of the ritual. As she reached the end, her voice trailed off and her smile finally faded. Her eyes grew distant, then they widened as if in alarm or shock.

 

Before Charles could react, shimmering golden light enveloped his wife completely. 

 

He stepped back in alarm, though he was careful not to move beyond their circle of salt.

 

"Alexandra!" he called to her, but she remained obscured within the column of light. He dared not interfere, but he was fraught with worry for his beloved wife.

 

At long last the light faded.

 

Standing in place of his beautiful Alexandra was a strange man. He stood about five-foot-ten, around the same height as Charles. He appeared to be fit, strong, and healthy. His blond hair was short, with a slight curl to it. His skin was fair, and his eyes green. He was wearing the same dark robes Alexandra had been clad in. In fact he looked for all the world like he could be Alexandra's brother, although Charles knew his wife had neither brother or sister.

 

"Who are you?!" Charles demanded. "Where is my wife?!"

 

The man looked back at Charles and a slightly amused look came to his face, as a flicker of yellow light appeared in his eyes. He bent down and picked up the ancient tome, opening it to the silk ribbon which marked the pages that described the Goddess and her ritual. When he spoke his voice had a depth to it, a presence which revealed that he was something more than a man. 

 

"A copy, of a copy, of a translation, of an oral tradition." The look of amusement on his face grew stronger. "It is a wonder it worked at all, Charles. Who knows where the mistakes were made. Perhaps it was that Roman bastard who befriended then betrayed my people. Perhaps the historian that collected the centurion's notes. Or perhaps someone else along the way. It matters not, I am here now."

 

Charles shook his head, still angry and worried. "Who are you, and where is Alexandra?!"

 

"I am the one you were attempting to summon, Charles. The one you called 'Menerwal'. My people were the Frisii, I was one of their Gods. And Alexander is still here. He is my vessel. After you woke me, he gave himself to me. You both have done well to restore me, and I will see you are both rewarded."

 

"No!" Charles half-shouted. "I don't know this 'Alexander' you speak of! Where is my wife!?"

 

The stranger still had that flicker of yellow light in his eyes as he frowned at Charles. "I am a God, Charles. Of wisdom and warfare. And you thought to embody me within a small, weak, pitiful woman?" He shook his head. "As I woke, I made the necessary changes to the vessel's body mind. Your spouse is right here before you. His name is Alexander, and he is my vessel."

 

Charles stumbled back a few paces. He felt as though he'd been struck in the chest. "No... It cannot be!"

 

The God before him looked amused again. He was still holding the ancient tome, but he casually tossed it onto the embers in the fireplace. The ancient book soon burst into flames, lighting up the room.

 

"What have you done!" Charles demanded, looking aghast as the tome for which he'd paid a small fortune was quickly consumed by the flames.

 

The God just smiled, "Much of that was wrong, Charles. It was of no use to me."

 

He reached out and plucked the sheet of paper from Charles's hand. He looked it over, then crumpled it up and threw it into the fireplace as well.

 

Charles shook his head, "Please... Restore my wife! If your vessel must be a man then take me instead!"

 

The God shook his head, "It is too late for that. Alexander has already given himself to me. He is my vessel until the day his heart no longer beats. And you cannot take his place, for you have already given yourself to me as well."

 

Charles glanced at the cut on his arm, and sighed. "I am your priest..."

 

"Close," the God smiled. "As I said, who knows where the errors were introduced in the old text. No Charles, you will not be my priest. You are to be my priestess."

 

Before Charles could react, the God added "Rejoice, you and Alexander shall remain husband and wife. You and he shall serve me together."

 

"No," Charles shook his head. "I refuse! I deny you! I recant, I will not serve you!"

 

The yellow light in the God's eyes grew brighter as he shook his head slightly, "You have already given yourself to me. You will make a fine priestess, and a beautiful wife."

 

Charles took another step back, shaking his head again. He tried to protest further, but the words caught in his throat as his vision was obscured by swirling, shimmering light.

 

 

She sighed quietly at her reflection. The young woman in the mirror looked back at her with a sad, resigned expression. She was beautiful, of course. Petite, but with all the appropriate curves in all the appropriate places. Her dark hair reached mid-way down her back. Her eyes were blue, and her complexion slightly tanned. 

 

She looked somewhere between twenty and twenty-five, which was quite miraculous because in truth she was born sixty years previously.

 

It was seventeen-thirty-one now, and twenty-six years had passed since that fateful night when she and Alexander performed the ritual and woke the ancient God. Twenty-six years since both their fates were completely changed. 

 

She knew some would say she should be grateful. She kept her beauty, her youth, and her health. Beyond that, both she and her husband got everything they'd hoped for. Money, power, even property. Just last year they moved onto their own estate, they now lived in this extensive manor. They even had their own staff of servants.

 

By all accounts, the God had granted them everything they'd wished for, everything they'd dreamed of.

 

She knew she should be glad. In fact, most days she was glad. Now and then, however, she remembered what the two of them had given up. What they'd lost, what was taken from them.

 

Days like today, when she remembered she'd once been a man named Charles. Days when she remembered her beautiful loving wife Alexandra. 

 

Not that Alexander wasn't a good husband. But he was demanding, ambitious, and busy. He rarely found time for Charlotte these days. And when he did, he tended to want her to spend that time in his bedchamber, where he could be just as demanding. And of course she was unable to refuse him. She was his beautiful, caring, and above all, obedient wife.

 

The other thing that Charlotte missed was the time they used to spend together studying and researching. Alexander maintained his obsession with spiritualism and the occult. He was always acquiring ancient books and other rare and obscure works, and Charlotte was sure he continued attending clandestine meetings with others who shared that interest.

 

He hadn't exactly forbade her from such things, but he did discourage her. And he kept all the manuscripts and books and other pieces he'd collected in his study, behind a locked door. Neither Charlotte nor any of the servants had a key, so that interest was effectively denied her.

 

Days like today, where her thoughts and memories were clear, were frighteningly few and far between. 

 

Charlotte turned her attention away from the mirror to the desk before her, and picked up her journal. The last entry was from six months ago, in January. 

 

She wondered sometimes why she was permitted these days of clarity. She dared not ask, lest her husband or the God within him decide to deny her any more of them.

 

She held a very slight hope, that it was in fact Alexandra's influence that somehow permitted Charlotte these rare moments of lucidity. That perhaps some spark of her beloved wife still remained, somewhere deep inside Alexander. Perhaps Alexandra even had moments now and then, much as Charlotte was having now. Periods where her mind was her own, where she remembered who she was and what she'd given up, what she'd lost.

 

If that were the case though, Charlotte knew those moments were likely as rare for Alexandra as they were for herself. Looking back over the past few years' worth of notes in her journal, she could see evidence of what she'd already come to suspect.

 

Her nights with Alexander seemed to be gradually on the decline. More and more, it was the God who summoned her to his bed. And more and more, it was the God who was present at other times too. He seemed to be slowly taking over Alexander's life.

 

She'd come to recognize over the years when it was Alexander taking her to his bed, or when it was the God. While she could refuse neither, Alexander tended to be gentler, more caring, more loving. The God was quite demanding, and seemed to delight in his control over her. She hesitated to call him cruel, but he was certainly not as kind as Alexander.

 

She suspected it was the God, rather than her husband, who was the source of Alexander's ambition and drive. And oddly enough, it seemed to be the God who was still pursuing that interest in the occult and spiritualism. 

 

This made no sense to Charlotte. Why would a God be interested in such matters? He already had control of the supernatural, there seemed little need for him to involve himself with it further.

 

There was only one reason she could think of, and it left her deeply troubled. Perhaps the God sought out others of his kind. For what purpose, Charlotte could not guess. She feared though that he meant to wake more like himself, and to unleash them upon the Earth. 

 

Finally she opened her ink jar and took up her pen, and started writing out an entry for today. Thoughts and observations, after twenty-six years as a woman, as a wife, and as a 'priestess'. Not that she'd ever been called upon to perform any religious, spiritual, or holy duties. 

 

Charlotte wrote out her thoughts, her suspicions, her fears. She knew if her husband or the God within him ever read these words, she would surely suffer for it. But neither showed much interest in her private activities, she felt certain nobody looked at her journal but her. Even at that, she only thought to review it on the rare occasions when her thoughts and memories were her own.

 

She was slowly forming a plan. A way to put the God back where he belonged. It would cost them everything, both herself and her husband. But after two and a half decades of this life, she was starting to feel that it was a sacrifice worth making. She had no idea what the God's long-term plans were. She only knew that if he could, he would keep Alexander and herself alive indefinitely so as to achieve them.

 

Eventually, having finished her writing, Charlotte returned her journal to the hidden drawer in the table by her bed. It was nearly time for dinner, and a servant would be along momentarily to let her know her husband awaited her presence at the dining table.

 

She had no idea how many more years it might take to put her plan in motion, but as long as she continued having days of clarity like today, she would see it happen eventually.