Matriculation

Matriculation The rooster didn’t want to die. It raked its spurs and twisted its head halfway around to try and jab at Fiona with its beak. But she kept her chokehold under its head while her free hand shoved a dagger through its neck. Blood spattered into a ceremonial bowl. Fiona chanted, the words, not Latin or English, phrases of a tongue whisper-taught to her. A dirty mist formed into a bubble in the bowl, but as she continued her incantation, the greasy bubble broke and dissipated. “Not bad for…