The sanctum was aglow in warm candlelight as Leora entered. The walls adorned with religious memorabilia, fabric curtains hung in arcs dangerously close to flame, but kept safe by the grace of God. In her novitiate practice of keeping custody of the eyes she had already become familiar with the framed scrolls and portraits, their creases and imperfections. Lines of pews in symmetrical rows filled the room, angled ever so slightly toward the altar where so many holy words were spoken.

It was there where her Mother Superior, the Abbess, stood, waiting patiently for Leora to make her slow walk toward the altar. As she approached, Mother Corvina’s lips turned into a small proud smile, her gentle eyes seemingly trapping the candlelight, creating a soft orange glow around her pupils. Her ritual habit was exquisite, starting black at the bottom, and fading into a pure white toward her head, ending with a white hood accented with gold trim.

Leora was nervous, that much would be very clear to anyone who saw her slow steps, the golden candlestick shuddering as the hands that gripped it shook slightly. Luckily, or perhaps not, the only witness was Mother Corvina. The Ritual of First Vows was always done one on one with the Abbess of the convent. She took a deep shaky breath to try and steady herself, doing her best to calm down as much as she could. ‘First vows are powerful, meaningful. They’re the first step to becoming a fully fledged sister… so why? Why am I so nervous?’

Almost as if reading Leora’s mind, Mother Corvina extended her arm and open palm, inviting her to take the hand in her own. She did, without thinking, feeling the soft warmth of her superior’s skin against hers. Mother Corvina led Leora around the altar to where she would kneel, a spot marked on the floor by a ring of black candles that were dripping a dark oily wax. Six candles, six vows.

Leora had rehearsed this night in her mind over and over for the past three years as a novitiate. There were rumors about how the Ritual of the First Vows was to proceed, the other sisters spoke very little about their experiences and who could blame them? It is such a special night, it makes sense why they would not voice their memories aloud.

The candlestick was gently taken from her hands, her light now in the Abbess’ guiding palms. She watched as it was placed on the altar alongside the other dozen lit candles already there, one for each sister. Every candle was lovingly tended to by the Abbess; when they burned too low, the flame was transferred to a new candle, always kept alight. Leora’s candle was noticeably fresh compared to the neighboring candles that were nestled in pools of wax.

“You may kneel now, my child.”

Leora jumped, snatching her transfixed eyes away from the flame and back to her Mother Superior’s comforting gaze. Her cheeks felt warm with embarrassment, years of mental rehearsal and still… but the smile calmed her, Mother Corvina wasn’t upset and so Leora didn’t need to be either. Leora released the comforting hand, took another deep breath and knelt down. She made sure her gown billowed outward with the downward motion, finally collapsing into a perfect fabric circle.

Her bare knees took in every crease and imperfection in the wood they rested upon. The floor felt warm. As painful and scary as it was to look away, she remembered to look downward, down at her knees. The silence around her was deafening, and she so desperately wanted to look back up. Instead she tried to recall what she knew of the ritual, pressing her palms together and holding them just in front of her bosom.

Mother Corvina started walking around Leora, one foot forward, then the other moved next to the first, then that foot forward and so on. Slow and deliberate movements, her long ritual habit dragged behind her in an almost serpentine fashion. The Abbess began reciting something that Leora did not understand. She recognized it as Latin but hadn’t yet learned enough to translate. Instead of paying attention to what was being said, she simply listened and kept her breathing steady. If it was something for Leora to know she would have been told.

“Unum hoc emunda a crimine et immunditia, emunda filia tua luce et tenebris. Patitur eam fieri compensari, et cum unaquaque cerea exstincta, vota eius signata invigilet. Annum, Sanctae Noctis Sacrum.”

Mother Corvina stopped at her position in front of Leora as she finished speaking and turned toward her. Reaching down, she gently lifted Leora’s chin so that their eyes could meet. “Be brave now, my child,” she spoke with that warm smile. “Are you ready?”

Leora started to nod but realized as she stared deeper into the Abbess’ eyes, that the hand that lifted her head just moments earlier was nodding for her.

“Yes, Mother Superior. I am ready for my vows.”

Corvina smiled again. A genuine smile - it reached her eyes. “Very good. You may begin. Speak slow, speak confidence, speak truth,” Mother Corvina instructed as she released Leora’s chin, letting it fall back down to her chest.

Leora took one last deep breath. She’d practiced the vows in the privacy of her room dozens of times, at least half of them just today. Speak slow, speak confidence, speak truth.

“I vow to keep chastity. To never marry, to remain a virgin as Mother Mary did.”

The candle to her eight o’ clock extinguished, as if something snatched the flame away.

She continued, “I vow to remain in poverty. To renounce any wealth and possessions I own to the Abbey in order to better serve the will of the community and my sisters.”

Another candle, this time the one behind her. Leora, unable to see it, remained steadfast and confidently continued.

“I vow to secrecy and silence. To not speak to anyone outside of the Abbey, in order to keep my Mother Superior and my sisters safe.”

The flame at Leora’s ten o’ clock vanished, and she felt fear. She resisted the urge to look to her Abbess for reassurance but remembered her superior’s words. Be brave. Speak confidence. Corvina, meanwhile, looked on her disciple with interest. She wondered if Leora would have the strength to follow through. She was so close that Corvina could almost taste it.

Leora regained her composure and started again. “I vow to balance. To embrace the holy light and holy night equally, as our Lord did when he created light in the darkness.”

The candle to Leora’s right was snuffed out, or had it gone out while she blinked? She could not be certain.

“I vow to remembrance. To always retain my lessons, to devote my mind to the order and its goals.”

Candle number five, the one to Leora’s left, held on… flickering for the briefest moment. Getting weaker and weaker until, like the others, it vanished.

Corvina’s eyes sparkled with excitement in the candlelit darkness. “Look up. Look your Mother Superior in the eyes as you make your last vow, Leora.”

Leora felt something inside her fight the order. ‘Keep thou head down, don’t look up. Even if everything in thou body is screaming to do so.’ That was the snippet of information she had acquired from a tome she read about First Vows. When she asked the other sisters about their experiences, for some reason they all had only mentioned taking the fifth vow and nothing further. They assured her that it was normal.

She could feel Mother Corvina’s eyes on her, she was waiting, she was expecting. She tried to remember if the other sisters had said anything, given her any advice, any clues… but her memories felt distant, the images in her mind of the tomes cover and pages blurring, burning.

She looked up.

The Abbess’ face was barely an inch away from her own. Her habit covered head surrounded by candlelight like a halo, the gold in the white shimmering. Her golden lit eyes were inescapable, hungry. “The sixth vow, Leora. I believe in you. Speak it.” Corvina punctuated the command with a hand on Leora’s cheek, thumb gently grazing the young girl’s lips.

“I- I vow to obedience. To always obey my Mother Superior and the wills of the Abbey. To always follow the canon of the Sacred Night,” Leora quivered out, her confidence wavered at the last vow. The strength vanished from her limbs as she finished, and the last candle between the two women went out with a spark.

“Good girl, Leora. Your Mother Superior is so proud of you, your Lord is proud of you, too.” Corvina grinned, catching the rag doll of a girl in an embrace to prevent her fall to the ground. Leora’s eyes felt so tired all of a sudden. She whimpered as she struggled to keep them open.

“Close them, my child. I know that you are so very tired. All that stress is gone now, so let me take care of you, yes?”

Leora’s eyes shut immediately, as if the weight of the world was upon them.