The hunted, p.23
The Hunted, page 23
Prairie shot me a curious look. “Why do you assume it traveled to us and not the other way around?”
“Fair point,” I said slowly.
“Inspiration is weird that way, especially between realms. Could’ve been one of those echoes,” Mer added.
I considered that. The tune had seemed more improvised and slowed down than what I remembered on Earth. Maybe it wasn’t even the same song. It had been a really long time since I’d heard it as well.
“I’m not sure which tune in particular you’re referencing, but I reckon it’s one that’s been passed down for generations upon generations. Lotta magick can be stored in music. A lot of history and story, too.”
Back at the house, it was time to get ready for dinner. While Daelon and I showered and picked out our clothes, we were both lost in thought.
Meredith had mentioned that we’d be sitting with some of the other Icieran elders tonight before the moon ceremony, so that we could discuss the future of Aradia. Iciera’s role in the impending conflict wasn’t merely up to Ruth. The older witches were also depended on to provide sage council and commune with the Divine about big decisions. They’d seen more of Aradia than anyone else; they’d read and learned for decades upon decades; and their knowledge was highly respected. They’d also been communicating with their ancestors and Icieran guides, learning as much as they could about the nature of what was to come.
I had a lot of the same wisdom stored in me, preserved relics of covens destroyed by the Order and Lucius. Even still, the idea of talking to witches more than a century old was intimidating, though I supposed that was exactly what Amos had been.
Daelon zipped the silver dress that Becca had designed for me up my back. It was fitted around my waist, with a conservative, off-the-shoulder neckline and a cascade of asymmetrical fabric for a skirt, shorter in the front than the back. The fabric was dense, with a satin feel on the inside and a rougher, scratchier feel on the outside where the silver shimmers and whorls were delicately imprinted. It was imbued with the energy of Selene and all things lunar and feminine, all things at once light and dark, and I caught a glimpse of Hecate in its depths.
I found a kind of comfort in my relationship with the Goddess of Witches, and I realized that my own spiritual path was crucial to my healing process. Severance from our coven was soul-crushing, and belief lessened that pain. Within the dark abyss of alienation, I was beginning to understand my own energy and connection to the Divine, underneath all the layers of power from others. Though I could tap into all, the currents of water, ocean, wisdom, and healing came naturally.
“I would’ve come back,” I said aloud, sifting through the agreeing surge of power that accompanied my words.
Daelon met my eyes in the mirror.
“To our land. Just like you. I would’ve wanted to go out and explore, and then I would’ve come back to my family. To our family. Because underneath all that was given to me, my energy is exactly as Ruth described about our coven,” I explained.
Daelon smiled softly, though a soft brush of sadness swept through his eyes. “Why do you think I kept telling you back at the cabin that you reminded me of home? It had nothing to do with your power or our shared purpose, or even that we came from the same place. It was all about what was underneath, at your core. The mark of our coven still lives within each of us. It recognizes itself in others, another form of a soul bond,” he said.
“I always think of you as my anchor,” I said, sifting through the ocean correspondences that were always at the core of my magick. I’d even used ocean magick to break through Lucius’s enchanted handcuffs before our escape. It was comforting to know that after all had been returned, I would still have this magick of my own, this power that connected me to our ancestors and sacred land.
Daelon ran the back of his hand down my cheek, his touch soft and gentle. He was in a simple white button down and gray pants. The Icierans’ formal clothing wasn’t all that fancy, which was a welcome breath of relief from the weird, modern, aristocratic play-pretend of the castle. I had a feeling Becca had me in the most elegant garb that would be showcased tonight.
Daelon kissed the base of my neck. “You are stunning. Like Selene embodied,” he murmured into my skin.
“Tonight, at the ceremony, who or what will you pray to?” I asked him. The question seemed to catch him off guard. “I’ve been talking to Hecate ever since I met her in the astrals, and I’ve felt her helping me. I just wondered if you pray to the Goddess of our coven these days, or something else.”
“I—I don’t picture my higher power as any particular archetype or deity. It’s more like a feeling. That I’m a part of a whole, and that I’m being guided by those who came before, maybe even those who will come after. I haven’t spent a lot of time praying these past decades.” His voice faltered. “Not until you died.” As always, he struggled anytime the subject of my death came up.
“When that happened,” he continued. “I started talking to anyone who would listen, making promises and threats and everything else to bring you back to me. Taryn thought I was hallucinating, but sometimes I swear I saw my parents in the room with me, telling me to have faith. So now I find myself talking to them, and other ancestors. I don’t know who or what it is I talk to sometimes, but it feels like a guiding hand. Something from outside of myself.”
I turned around to look at him directly, our auras flashing white like a mirror of each other. I swallowed. “I’m just so glad I pushed you out of the way in time. That it was me instead. Because I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.”
“That’s not true. You can do anything, with or without me.”
I shook my head. “No, Daelon. I would’ve scorched that entire castle. I would’ve lost my mind. You are everything to me. You keep me grounded, you catch me when I fall, and you protect me more than I can protect myself. In fact, I think it’s myself that you protect me from the most.”
His shield filtered through devotion, like the golden trickle of light from a low-hanging moon. “Then I can concede to the fact that we need each other.”
Can’t we need each other? Lucius’s words echoed through my mind like an intrusive thought. I pushed the thought aside as I reached for Daelon, standing up on my tip toes to pull him in for a kiss.
Chapter 22
Raw power was heavy in the air tonight. The celestial sky-show was bright and enchanting, the stars and planets appearing to wink at us. Selene blessed our Ostara celebrations just as she blessed my arrival.
I sat with Daelon, Prairie, Mer, Ali, and Skye at a table with Ruth, Jesco and other older coven members. A table near us seated Susie Lynn and the rest of Ruth and Jesco’s family, including Calico, Melody, and Charlie. It was only today that I learned Calico was Jesco’s nephew, which explained the similar names.
As far as the eye could see lay the long wooden tables we set with candles and décor, all aglow and brought to life with flickering candle flames and excited witches and their families. Other witches bustled about, getting food for each other and saying hello to those at other tables. Some were finished with dinner and playing games at their tables or out in the field. I saw others meditating, or praying, in circles, already eager to ask Selene for her routine blessings for their own personal and familial concerns. Like firing synapses, magick sparked and kindled in rippling waves throughout the mass of witches gathered.
I took a bite of the richly spiced rice pilaf, chasing it with a glass of bubbly berry-tinged drink. The food was so fresh and delicious, the infused aura of Iciera apparent in each bite. Everything was in perfect balance, just as I felt when I first stepped foot on this land.
Meredith was telling the elders about our conversation at the spa. So far we’d only gotten through introductions and formalities, the elders taking special interest in the nature of my power and my commitment to returning it all to the land.
“So that’s what got us thinking back on what Jesco said, about why Angelina was drawn to her brand of destructive chaos magick in the first place,” Mer explained, finishing the recap.
“You think that there was something sinister going on in her coven. And that perhaps other covens mishandled banishments,” an elder woman said, her darker gray hair in a long braid that coiled down the side of her neck to hang at her chest. Her crown was made of crystal flowers in shades of pink and white. Ruth had referred to her as Tabitha.
“And maybe that the cities themselves were mishandled, that too many witches ended up settling down in places that didn’t have a cohesive coven system of myth, tradition, and magick to root them to the land,” Mer explained. “These thousands of witches forgot who they were. And instead of anyone reminding them, the Order swooped in and told them an entirely different story altogether.”
“The cities were meant to be transitory,” Tabitha said. “But witches do not have centralized governing structures, and through the centuries our intentions can become muddled and eventually ignored. We couldn’t enforce our ancestors’ wisdom on young witches who didn’t grow up understanding the importance of history and honoring one’s heritage and homeland. We thought the witches who’d permanently settled in the cities and continued to expand them past their original construction were missing something crucial, but we didn’t think it was dangerous to the realm until it was too late.”
“Angelina is unnatural, a demon in witch’s skin,” a different elder said, this time a man with a short black beard and matching hair. His age was carved into the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. His crown was red and black, complementary to his earthy, grounded energy. “I do not enjoy the insinuation that her evil and the Order’s evil was a result of covens’ wrongdoings. That only feeds into their narrative that covens living in accordance with the natural order of creation are merely cults led by tyrants and sustained by control, fear, and abuse.”
“Áine?” Ruth asked. Her crown was similar to her usual headpieces, with a crescent moon in the center and moonstone spikes. She wore a conservative dress of bluish silver. “What do you think?”
All eyes shifted to me. I’d been respectfully quiet during most of the dinner’s discussion, letting the elders take the lead.
I took a sip of my water. I was used to this kind of attention, but from people centuries years old, it carried an altogether different weight. I leaned into my power, which was effortless amidst the dance of magick Ostara had triggered.
“I didn’t want to believe that Angelina’s evil was a result of other forces, either. That complicates things. A wise spiritual teacher once said that the notion of evil lets witches and humans off the hook for their own actions and complacency,” I said, and Daelon nodded. As did Wren, like he too had heard Amos say those words. I was channeling freely now, and I started to notice a gleam in the witches’ eyes across from me, as if my quartz crystal crown was aglow.
“But then I learned that Lucius’s—I mean, the false king’s—evil was not inherent. He was once a witch just like any of us, one who would do anything to save his mother from his father’s wrath. Claiming Angelina’s shadow magick as his own was his only way to do that, as well as to usurp the older generation of cruel witches—the Order. Or so he believed. That’s not to say he’s blameless, or that anything he’s done since is justified, but I think ignoring the traumatic beginnings of monsters only perpetuates them. We cut off their heads and they grow back five more. Maybe we should be more concerned with ripping them out by the roots.”
The whole table was speechless for a moment, including me. The energetic buzzing at the top of my head steadied and slowed. I had never once admitted that aloud, not even to myself—that Lucius was not completely at fault for what happened to him, or that he deserved to be seen as something more than just a devil embodied. Something about it had always felt wrong, as if the admittance that he was a monster created rather than a monster born was insensitive to all of his victims, including me and Daelon. But it was the truth, nonetheless.
A tingle on the back of my neck had me looking around the table, spotting the only pair of eyes that weren’t in awe or contemplation: Wren.
There was that same look that he had when he dissected my aura. Like he saw something in me that he refused to say aloud.
“Áine’s words feel aligned,” Wren said, in spite of what I’d gleaned from him. “There is only one cause of disease. And that is imbalance. The imbalance had to start somewhere, clearly in the relation to the shadow and the ego. Of individuals, covens, and then Aradia as a whole.”
Meredith had also tried to stay quiet during most of the conversation, but now her aura flashed bright. “That connects to the energy vampire crisis as well. Their psychospiritual illness is a direct result of the shadow eclipsing the ego. So-called monsters created from trauma and alienation.”
The image of Orion, with his familiar copper hair and piercing green eyes, in the dark alleyway assailed my mind’s eye.
Wren’s gaze turned back to me.
Ruth took a sip of her drink before straightening and lifting her chin. She was fully embodying her role as the High Priestess tonight. “Perhaps tonight’s ceremony will provide us with clarity about our next moves, and plant seeds of inspiration for how to correct such an imbalance for the future of the realm.”
The elders nodded, their gazes still fixated on me. I glanced at Daelon, grounding myself to the cool sturdiness of his shield. He was wearing a crown of black tourmaline, its energetic imprint rooted in protection and purification. It was perfect for him, amplifying his own gift so effortlessly. Just as my own quartz crown acted as a conduit for my deep wells of power and natural healing abilities.
The elders continued to talk, occasionally asking me about my experiences and what I’d learned from the Akashic Records. Just as the trees predicted, the warm front rolling through ensured a pleasant temperature even as the night grew darker. It was offset with gusts of winds that seemed to grow stronger just as Ostara’s magick did.
Just as I did.
The first sign that something was wrong came from the raised hairs on the back of my neck and a freefalling feeling in my stomach. I clutched Daelon’s arm as a vortex of vertigo coiled through my body like a snake before releasing me.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asked. Worry swam in his narrowed eyes. We were standing with some of the others, listening to the music that Jesco, Prairie, and a few other witches were playing, amplified across the field with magick. The land itself seemed to respond to the melody, feeding off the power we were generating and churning out more for us in return.
Ruth glanced at us. “Energy spins? I get them too, especially after casting spells or leading rituals. You’re channeling a great deal of power right now. It will help us to protect this land all the more, so I thank you for it.”
I straightened and smiled. I’d been channeling raw magick all night as if I was a walking conduit, amplifying everyone’s prayers and spells. It seemed like the least I could do for their hospitality.
“Yeah, that makes sense,” I said. “When will the ceremony begin?”
“When the sacred buck is sighted. When he appears, it means Selene has given her blessing,” Ruth replied.
I’d seen the sacred buck in various artistic depictions around Iciera, grand in stature with his short gray and white coat and glowing silver antlers. The myth went that the antlers were dipped in Selene’s pool of moonlight, enshrined with the eternal magick of protecting Icieran land and people. When he didn’t show up for Ostara all those years ago, it was a sign that his protective magick was already in use. It set off a chain reaction of chaos, but ultimately saved Iciera from what was to come.
Instead of the usual spellcasting for things like prosperity, fertility, and cleansing, the Icierans realized they needed to prepare for the Order. It was time to link the mountain ranges and carve out a pocket between dimensions, using all the occult information ancestors had hidden in old texts and prophecies.
However, because the land hadn’t received its usual dose of magickal upkeep that year, all witches, crops, and wildlife in Iciera suffered. Meredith had told me that it took nearly two years for everything to reach a perfect equilibrium again.
Charlie ran up to us, and the warning I’d felt moments ago slipped away.
“Ahn-ya,” she said, pronouncing the syllables heavily for emphasis. Her thick waves of brown hair were slightly messy from play, her fresh denim overalls and nice white shirt already adorned with dirt and grass stains. Her pink rose flower crown was lopsided. “Are you ready? Are you ready?”
I grinned and bent down, and Daelon again looked like he was seeing a child for the first time in his life. I supposed it was one of the first times.
“Yes, I am ready. Are you?”
She nodded emphatically. “It’ll be a little scary, but we can do it. Do you remember the before-time?”
Calico and Melody caught up to her, giving us a wave in welcome. I wondered why she thought the ceremony would be scary.
“The before-time…” I said slowly, seeing if she would elaborate.
“Before here. When we were somewhere else.”
Calico and Melody’s faces shifted, and I saw that they were now listening very intensely to Charlie as she spoke.
“Where were we?” I asked.
Charlie shrugged. “I dunno. You told me you were scared to do all of it, and I told you not to worry, that it wouldn’t hurt all the time. Emerson was there too.”
Ruth’s head also snapped to watch the child, her eyes squinting in calculation.
A different kind of tingling sensation crawled down my spine, one I couldn’t put into language. Charlie’s words were utterly indecipherable to my brain, but to my soul…
I couldn’t finish the train of thought before she started up again.
