The illuminated, p.6

The Illuminated, page 6

 

The Illuminated
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  “Aradia, Earth, the many layers of the astrals, the dimensions even higher still… they are all bound together, intrinsically intertwined. There are influences of reality that echo across all. A human mother prays for angelic intervention for her daughter’s protection, and that intent is felt in the astral realm. An angel may take tangible shape here to aid her—an angel whose influence is channeled as inspiration for a painting in Aradia. Do you see? An echo. An infinite pool from which all form takes its shape, dipped into by all.”

  She paused, and with a twitch of her palm a line of torches rose from the ground between the quartz columns, alight with orange fire.

  “I am a part of each realm, in some capacity, fortified and sustained by the beliefs and rituals in my honor by witches and humans alike. I am but one interpretation, one archetype and facet of the limitless cosmos and infinite creation, like all deities. Just as you, a savior and bringer of balance, have counterparts throughout each dimension’s history, myths, and art.”

  “A universal story,” I murmured, remembering the insights gleaned from my ocean of power. Lucius’s darkness was not entirely unique. The witches of Aradia were not the only beings who’d lost their way, who knew what it meant to watch their world crumble. “Told in different words by different characters in every realm.”

  I earned my first smile, and it was warm and grandmotherly despite her relatively young form. “What Lucius has done in Aradia affects us all. It is a blatant act of defiance against the balance of give and take sustained for all time, rivaled only by the acts of greed, violence, and destruction by the humans against each other. The realms were already influenced by this kind of darkness that echoes, but now it has amplified in ways that can bring each layer back into the void from which we came.”

  As we walked toward a towering domed building with circular, iridescent stained-glass windows, I noticed our path merely grew longer, the distance between us and the archways remaining the same no matter how many steps we took.

  “Magick is a gift. Witches have often thought themselves to be more evolved than humans, but they fail to see that humans live in a way that is much harder to find clarity, especially when the collective has lost its way. The magick humans feel is uncertain. It’s inspiration, ideas, varied and conflicting branches of religion and philosophy, and almost always intangible, easy to deny and sweep under the rug of rugged materiality. Witches were born a step ahead. They see the hidden layers of reality—formlessness, creation, and the influence of will—as just as real as their material experience. It’s not hard to see how easy it was for humans to lose their way, born without this sixth sense of knowledge. Most need to go searching for it themselves, often without guidance. That is one of my duties as Goddess of Witches, you see. I carry a torch through the darkness, for all who ask.”

  I let her words weave a tapestry of understanding around my psyche, but their threads were hard to keep from tangling and blowing out of reach.

  “I’m still confused,” I admitted. What I heard loud and clear was that not only was I responsible for saving Aradia, but also Earth, the astrals and every other dimension. Which of course did wonders for the pressure that had just sent me into a spiral of impulse and pleasure-seeking distraction.

  “That’s okay,” she said lightly, stopping to face me. “What you need to understand right now is that your journey is supported in each realm. From you, it is hope that echoes, Áine. As does the wisdom of ways of life that have been lost or eradicated. You have no idea how many beings have poured their hope and power into you, have left bits of help and knowledge on your path, and have seen you coming for a very long time.”

  I fought the urge to look away, the intensity of her words weighing me down like the myth of Atlas. “I just don’t even know what to do with all of that. It’s too much. I’m not a god. I’m a person—witch—whatever. I know I should feel honored, but I can’t help but compare my own unnaturalness to that of Lucius’s. No one witch is meant to be that powerful.”

  “Correct. But you are not one witch. You are an embodiment of the collective, and if you are successful, there will come a time when balance is restored, and you will release your gift back into its natural state of multiplicity.”

  “By dying? Just so I can see the Akashic Records?” I asked, unable to hide my frustration. It was strange to express annoyance to a goddess. “Again, I’m a person. I never asked to be a martyr, and I won’t pretend to be enthusiastic about it.”

  Hecate’s transcendent, maternal tenderness remained as she shook her head. “I am not all-knowing in a way that can ever be expressed to beings of the lower realms, so I cannot offer you a conclusive telling of your fortune. But you must know that your death so early in this journey wouldn’t do anyone much good, would it? That is not what I refer to in my imagining of your life’s arc. There is still much to be done.”

  “It was you—or whatever goddess my mothers prayed to—that told Amos I needed to die in the first place,” I said, flustered. “Is that not the case?”

  “It is true. But the impossible has already been done, Áine. Perhaps it is time to have faith.”

  Even as I stood before an ancient, multidimensional goddess, as a witch who held the limitless potential of all natural magick… faith still felt as foreign, impractical, and tricky as it usually did to me.

  “Why me? Why was all of this put into me and not someone else?”

  “Because you were at the exact right place at the exact right time. Your life path was the only one that could weave its way to the desired outcome. Don’t you see that? It had to be you. Because your mothers had a way to save you. Because they were who they were, and that meant something critical to the development of your own sense of purpose. Because it was you that Lucius’s brother would fall in love with.”

  “But all of that was because of who I was, first. My mothers only left because of who I was, and Daelon only found me because of my power.”

  Hecate laughed, and the sound was as beautiful as a clear blue stream in lush woodlands, holding all currents of magick in its tenor. “Yes. Just as it’s hard to say whether I existed before the belief in me did, or whether consciousness gave birth to the Big Bang or if it manifested from its primordial explosion of creation. It’s best not to think of these things through the lens of mortal time and limited logic.”

  “My brain hurts,” I sighed. Sometimes I wished I didn’t have to think of these things at all. “But thank you, for, um, taking time out of your busy schedule.” Somehow I knew our time had run short, and I needed to get back to my physical body.

  Hecate laughed again. “I can be many places at once. I can be many things for many beings. But you needed to hear these things, even if you don’t yet understand it all. This knowledge will be of great use to you in the future. You will accomplish nothing without faith, and the resistance in your heart will only fester, tainting the love you should be celebrating and holding dear. You do not carry this burden alone. You never have.”

  “Thank you,” I repeated, suddenly deeply saddened by the prospect of leaving this place. There was a holiness here, a feeling of peace reminiscent of grand cathedrals, mosques, and temples, amplified and united under a dome of infinite devotion. And the feeling of being in the Goddess of Witches presence couldn’t be matched. She was like every mother, every grandmother, her aura pure magick and inspiration that rippled through each realm.

  “This is not goodbye. We talk quite often, actually, and will again whether you recognize me or not.” She stepped away from me and dissipated back into the cloud of mist she’d arisen from. The light from her torches created a rainbow effect amidst the water droplets before they began to blow out, one by one, from the end of the path toward me. When the last two torches extinguished, the entire scene went dark.

  I slipped through the earth as it disintegrated, and a new reality formed from the void. I was once again amidst the stars, surrounded by shades of purples and blues, the color of the sky melting into me as if I was a part of its essence, separate no longer. The swirling constellations of bright celestial bodies moved in various rates of quickness, following their paths of gravitational pushes and pulls. I lifted my arms to find that they were translucent, the sight of it sending a brief sinking horror to the pit of my stomach.

  It was scary to lose myself, if only at first. But just like the times I’d experienced an ego death in my ocean of magick, a sense of peace overcame all doubt, all thought of me. All thought of them, you, us. I could see a story written here in the cosmos, a story of all, and it had its own tune. Like a hum that rose with the din of a great explosion, it expanded into so many instruments and keys and melodies that it filled up my translucency with an all-encompassing symphony of sound.

  And I understood. I understood it all, just for a brief second in time, but the pull of my astral cord that tethered me to my physical body sent the realization into a spiral of a thousand broken pieces. They fell like shards of broken glass, illuminated and dancing as they fell toward the giant, blue orb below my feet. Just as my astral body was contained in my physical like two overlapping layers, I could see the overlay of Aradia on top of Earth, and the gravity of both yearned for me and beckoned me home.

  I gave in to the pull and plummeted toward the blue like a fiery arrow shot from a golden bow, hurtling through the atmosphere and below the great white billows of clouds, past the spires of a looming castle. I passed through the roof like a spirit, hovering over my physical body for a moment before getting sucked back in with an audible pop.

  When I awoke, I could tell it was still late night or early morning. The room was dark, and memories of my astral travels came flooding back like a haze of wild psychedelic flashbacks.

  The disconnect between this world, where I could feel a mixture of hunger and anxiety in my stomach, where I had to move my heavy limbs and abide by laws of physics and materiality, was jarring compared to the weightless, ethereal dreamland of the astrals. It was uniquely unsettling to lose my ego, and I understood why Amos said it was possible to get lost in higher realms.

  I’m Áine, I said to myself, repeating my name over and over until my sense of reality was restored.

  I hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep, but enough adrenaline pumped through my veins to keep me from slipping back into unconsciousness. I sighed and sat up, tossing my nightgown aside as I slipped into the most casual outfit I could put together from my wardrobe of clothes picked by Lucius, Daelon, and Taryn.

  Snug in an emerald-green blouse and long, black skirt that came to my ankles, I snuck into the hallway wearing soft, white slippers. I figured I was the only one wandering around at four a.m., besides the guards. Either way, I wasn’t sure I much cared about my perception at this point.

  I started at the sound of footsteps behind me, relaxing when I saw it was a uniformed guard but disappointed it wasn’t Daelon. At first glance, I thought it was Simon, the only pleasant guard I’d come across so far, but I realized this man was taller and more handsome. The lights above him flickered, illuminating his dark brown skin in a warm glow.

  I gave him a nod and continued walking, turning a corner toward the wide corridor that held the throne room and the dining hall. The bright, waning moon called to me, but before I could step closer to the tall windows that overlooked the gardens, I felt a hand clamp over my mouth.

  My stifled scream echoed through the crisp silence of the night, and I struggled against the strong arms that held me.

  “I’m not here to hurt you,” the man I assumed was the trailing guard said, his warm breath tickling my ear. “I’m here to save you. We don’t know how you found us, but we felt your presence on the shore.”

  I have no idea what you’re talking about, I forced into his mind. If you’re not here to hurt me, let me go.

  “Not before I understand why you’re walking around this place like you belong here.”

  I began to raise my power, prepared to force him if I needed. But before I could, a cold blade was at my throat, causing my heart to pound and ears to ring.

  “We have company,” he grunted, guiding me to step forward into the corridor just as a group of witches tumbled out from the throne room, Lucius and Daelon among them.

  Laughter and smiles faded at the sight of my predicament, and hot anger coursed through my blood at the way my mortality was being held against me. I was stronger than everyone here combined, save Lucius, yet I was held captive by a mere blade. With all the luck they’d brought me, I was beginning to hate knives with a burning passion.

  “And what is this?” Lucius growled, stepping forward from the others as he adjusted his crown. “Release her this instant.”

  I could taste the fear from my captor, nearly as strong as his determination and courage. His energy was like a warm bath of tropical sunshine, and I couldn’t understand the contradiction between his intentions and his actions.

  The King will kill you. I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I know what I’m doing, I hurried into his mind, but he pressed the blade closer to my skin. It was so near now that I feared moving even the tiniest bit. I could barely breathe.

  Daelon’s eyes were downright murderous, and the sight of Renata peeking out from behind him nearly brought forth the same reaction from me.

  Seriously? I chastised myself. I could hardly believe there was even a small part of me that could foam at the mouth with jealousy at a time like this.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to let us leave, or I’m going to slit her throat,” my captor said, and I could feel the lie in his voice. His plan didn’t make an ounce of sense, and Lucius knew it.

  The King stepped forward, and I could feel the intensity of his power fill up the space between us.

  “Not another step,” the man hissed, and the blade dug into my skin. I wasn’t sure why it hadn’t drawn blood.

  Daelon tensed, my panic reflected back to me from his deep brown eyes. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.

  Was this when I was to die? To visit the Akashic? Was it all a part of the grand plan that everyone wanted me to have faith in?

  “There is no way out for you,” Lucius reasoned. “She belongs to me. Not to whatever filthy, barbaric heretic coven you hail from.”

  I could feel the man’s anger burn through both of us, and I sensed myself in his energy. Why then did he hold a blade to my throat?

  “Let her go now, and I may grant you a head start. You have five seconds.”

  The man raised his free hand, swirling red flames shooting out from his palms for a moment before he released an explosion between us and Lucius. He removed the blade from my throat and clutched me tightly as he dragged me through space.

  Chapter 6

  We landed back in my bedroom in a disorientating whir, and I quickly ducked out from his grasp and spun to face him. His handsome face contorted in confusion at our surroundings. He’d no doubt willed us out of the castle, but little did he know I was held under a binding spell that restricted my travel.

  “I could’ve told you that wouldn’t work,” I said, breathless. “Now, can you tell me what the hell is going on?”

  He eyed the trolley of hanging gowns that Clarice had brought up. “What in the high realms is our secret weapon doing in the lair of the enemy? In plain sight?” he asked incredulously, an eyebrow raised.

  I crossed my arms, frustrated by his refusal to answer my questions. Not to mention his reduction of me to an inanimate weapon.

  “If you don’t leave now, you will die. Do you understand that? And if you call me anything of the sort in front of the King, you could get me killed too.”

  He scoffed, his eyes wildly searching mine. “He must know! I could see your power for miles.”

  I rubbed my neck, and the man’s face fell, his energy swarming with timid blue wisps of guilt.

  “I’m sorry—” he began, but I cut him off with the flick of a hand.

  “Again, I think there’s been a miscommunication. I have a plan. I don’t need rescuing. At least not at the moment. If you don’t want to die here or be tortured for the rest of your life in the dungeons, then you need to go. Now.”

  “Dungeons? God, this place is sick.” He ran his hands across his short wiry black hair, his defined jaw clenching. “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, join the club,” I muttered, and in a Hail Mary of magick, I grabbed his shoulders and willed my power to show him what he needed to see. With a frenzy of channeling, I watched as his aura grew blindingly white, but unlike Taryn and the servants, I could sense this man was already whole, already strong in a way that seemed untarnished by Lucius’s reign. I couldn’t make sense of this subtle difference. His eyes moved rapidly behind his closed eyelids before opening wide.

  “I’m too early,” he said, and to my surprise he grinned. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Áine. But I’m afraid we won’t meet again for some time. Summer follows winter, fire follows ice.”

  Oh, lovely. Good to see my power was as clear about its mystical messages as usual.

  He took in a deep breath, his features dissolving back into a calm determination. “We need to make this look like I was a powerful energy vampire, hungry for the greatest fix of the kingdom. Okay?”

  “Whatever you say, my knight in shining armor,” I said, and he shrugged sheepishly. His aura reeled me in, tasting of freedom and sunshine, like an eternal summer.

  “My name is Cyrus. May I?” he asked, tentatively lifting my wrist.

  “Go for it.”

  And for the first time in my life, I let a stranger freely channel my power, and as it moved through me, I felt the winds of travel, tasted saltwater on my tongue, heard the calls of brightly colored birds, and I saw the otherworldly palm trees, the white sand and clear water, the towering of a mountainous volcano. The air was heavy with nostalgia and belonging, and I felt a pulling sensation, as strong as a runaway riptide. I wanted to go with Cyrus. I wanted to go home.

 

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