Chapter 18: Chapter Eighteen

I scratched at my collarbone, grumbling to myself as the old lace fabric itched my skin.

The sleeves were tight on my upper arms, and I feared that if I held my arms out to either side, the flimsy fabric would tear at the seams.

The dress had a smell too—an old, musty smell that told me it had spent far too long in some box in an attic.

“I know,” Aunt Robin said with a sigh, “the thing is absolutely awful. It wasn’t any better three hundred years ago.”

I cringed as I caught sight of myself in the mirror. The dress hung just above my ankles and gathered not at my hips—that would have been too flattering—but just under my breasts.

The result was a silhouette that made me look and feel childish.

The dress was an off-white, yellowed underneath the arms and along the stitching. I imagined that when it was first made, it had been breathtaking.

But years and overuse had sapped away its beauty and left a tired piece of fabric clinging to my frame.

The sleeves were tight down to my wrists where they exploded into a tumbling mess of lace and ruffles.

The collar was square and made my chest look wide and exposed too much shoulder for me to wear a proper bra. To say the dress was uncomfortable was a gross understatement.

My hair had been set in thick curls that hung down my back. Woven into the strands were stephanotis flowers, which were meant to bring me good luck, and morning glories for peace and happiness.

The white and deep indigo flowers offset my dark hair nicely, making up for the awful dress I had been squeezed into.

My hands and wrists were bare. I wore no makeup, no shoes. Aside from the flowers adorning my hair and the flimsy white dress, I was exposed. I felt it too, felt bare and vulnerable.

I supposed this was the way they wanted me. The goal was to fill me with as much magic as possible, and I had to be ready to receive it.

My mother’s hands stilled in my hair, her dark eyes meeting mine through the reflection in the mirror. “You look beautiful, Morda,” she told me quietly.

The other women in the room rumbled in agreement, all busying themselves with arranging flower bouquets or putting the final touches on the quilt they would drape over me once the ceremony was over.

The light was seeping slowly out of the sky as we got closer to the rise of the moon and the start of my ceremony. A prick of nerves ran through me, which gave way to full-blown terror.

I had no idea what to expect. I had asked almost every witch what to expect, and no one had given me the same answer.

“You look ready to puke, kid,” Aunt Robin noted, making my cheeks flame and distracting me from my thoughts for a moment. Now my attention was on my rolling stomach.

“Leave her alone,” my mother ordered with a tsk. “She’s nervous.”

“No need to be,” Marty, the older lady with the affinity for potions and poisons, said. “You’ll do wonderfully, I’m sure. We all expect you to accept your powers with as much grace as your mother did.”

“It’s almost time,” my mother announced, giving my shoulders a quick squeeze.

I smoothed my hands over the skirt of my dress and shuffled from foot to foot, one eye on the time and the other on the door. Where was Eve?

“Big moment, punk,” Aunt Robin said with a sappy smile. “You’re going to be rad.”

I forced a smile back. “Thanks, Aunt Robin.”

She grabbed my shoulders and dragged me forward so she could kiss my cheek. “I have to go grab the crystals for the ceremony. I’ll see you out there, punk.”

I watched her go, hesitating at the doorway as Eve appeared, blocking her way. I heard my aunt mutter under her breath as she passed the girl and continued on her way.

I felt my nerves flare again as I met Eve’s eye and tried to interpret the wink she sent me.

My mother’s face appeared in front of mine, her eyes deep and smiling. “Is there anything I can get you, Morda?”

I shook my head. “I think I’m fine.”

She hugged me gently. “Okay,” she said, swiping away a few tears. “We’ll leave you for a few minutes. Try to calm yourself as best as you can, the less nerves you have, the better your ceremony will go.”

As soon as my mother turned away from me, all the women in the room picked up their projects and followed her out.

Eve smiled at all of them, feigning politeness as she let them all leave first. Once they were gone, she shuffled over to me.

“It’s done,” she informed me, “one love potion conjured and given.”

Relief hit me. “Thank you,” I said, “one less thing for me to worry about.”

Eve grinned.

“The dude was pretty shocked that you came through. He got this weird look on his face—like he was thinking really hard about something. He just sort of stared at the bottle before he stalked off.”

My gut twisted. I didn’t like the sound of Kale’s reaction. I didn’t want him to think too deeply, I just wanted him to move on and leave me alone.

“Thanks, Eve, you did me a favor.”

She waved me off. “No problem, Morda. We’ll be bonded soon, and this sort of stuff will happen all the time. I’ll have your back and you’ll have mine.”

I smiled at her, and she returned it, grasping my hand tightly. “You’ll be amazing tonight, Morda, don’t worry.”

I couldn’t summon my voice, so I just gave her a quick hug. Eve bounced away after, chatting to herself as she fled the room.

When the door closed behind her, I was sealed inside alone with nothing but silence.

I sat down in front of the mirror, placing one hand against the glass as I traced the lines of my face, my hair, my dress.

I wasn’t sure if I saw what Eve saw, what my mother and aunt and every other clan witch saw.

I didn’t know if my features held the power of a strong witch, of a woman who would one day take control of not only her own destiny but the futures of an entire clan of women.

Pressure sat on my shoulders, sliding my hand a little farther down the mirror. Behind my reflection, the moon’s light was starting to cut into my room.

The moonlight drew my worry away from myself and to Ben, who would be starting his change alone and unprotected.

I paused as a thought came to me. I shook my head, hoping that I was wrong, that I was just worried and nervous.

I was reminded again just how nervous I was as the door opened and four young witches entered with bundles of burning sage.

The women traveled around the room first, cleansing the windows and doorway carefully before bringing the sage as close to my body as they could, making sure the smoke drifted over my hair and clothes.

Drifting in from the backyard was a lazy drumbeat that set my teeth on edge. The women continued waving the sage around me until their stocks had all but dwindled.

The shortest one smiled and held her sage in front of me, whispering, “With air, you are cleansed.”

The witches each picked up a small silver chalice filled with clear water. They walked around the room, occasionally dipping their fingers into the water and flicking it around the room.

In turn, each witch splashed me with cool water. I tried my best not to flinch as one whispered, “With water, you are cleansed.”

The earth was next. Each witch took a heaping handful of salt and scattered it around the floor, along the windowsill, at the foot of the doorway.

They created a small, imperfect circle with the salt around my bare feet. The witch with red hair grinned as she said, “With earth, you are cleansed.”

Finally, each witch lit a long white candle. In the low light, the flames danced around their faces, casting long shadows and exaggerating their features.

Mouths became long twisted lines, and eyes transformed into deep dark sockets.

They each held their candle out to me and waited.

Slowly, I lifted my hand so it rested just above the flames. Each witch smiled, their eyes dark and dancing. “With fire, you are cleansed.”

I lowered my hand into the flames and sunk my teeth into my lip as the cool heat nipped my skin. Suddenly, the flames were extinguished and the candles discarded.

The witches stood back as the drums outside became louder. I took a deep breath before stepping out of the salt circle and into my next life.

The witches turned and led me out of the room and down the stairs to the backyard.

The backyard had been decorated beautifully. Torches had been lit along the fence, bundles of sage and cedar burning with them.

The women had strung lines of flowers over the tree branches of the two old willows that sat in the yard.

The walkway to the altar had been littered with more morning glories and stephanotises, with the edges of the natural runner formed with thick-cut salt and bigger, heavier crystals.

The air smelled sweet and heavy, the end of the summer casting the perfect feeling over the ritual.

The clan was gathered closely, all adorning some sort of crystal—perhaps the one they received at their own ceremony. Everyone wore white and red, the colors of new beginnings and power.

They stood in a loose circle, closing around the altar and my mother who stood underneath it.

The four witches led me to the edge of the aisle and then hurried to join the rest of the clan.

My aunt stepped forward next, her frizzy red hair pinned on top of her head and cascading down the back of her neck. She wore a long white dress with a blood-red cardigan that swooped low to her ankles.

Around her throat was a choker of precious gems, no doubt holding their own protection and charms.

“Morda Morano,” she greeted, blue eyes sparking in the firelight.

“Welcome to your Power Ceremony. Today we will release the bonds on your magic, and by the moon’s light and with the Mother’s guidance, we will give you as much magic as your bones will hold.”

My aunt turned, picking up a heavy wooden chest before coming to stand directly in front of me.

“Before we begin this ceremony, I would first like to bestow you with your stones. As the Keeper of Crystals, it is my duty and honor to select the stones I think will best see you into your new life.”

She reached into the box and first pulled out a small ring. The band was silver and thin, unpolished and dull-looking. The stone that sat in the center of the band was spectacular.

It was mostly turquoise and green with hints of a deeper brown and a crisp yellow with dark scratches crisscrossing the surface.

My aunt smiled as she picked up my right hand and slipped the ring onto my index finger. “Labradorite,” she said, “so you may see through deception and follow your own intuition.”

The next item she brought out was an anklet. The silver band was thick and strong-looking, holding three dark stones. The stones were a deep-steel color, shining dully despite its rough edges.

“Hematite,” she announced, holding up the anklet. “To keep you balanced, calm, and grounded. May it always protect you from getting carried away.”

There was a light round of laughter as my aunt bent and fastened the jewelry around my ankle.

The next piece took my breath away. It was a headband, delicately crafted with two crystals.

“Azurite,” Aunt Robin said, pointing to the deep-blue crystal, “to awaken any psychic abilities and to give you spiritual guidance.” The second stone was white and nearly transparent.

“Clear quartz,” she announced, “to allow you free thought.” She settled the headband against my forehead and fastened it under my hair. The piece was heavy and cool against my skin.

“Finally,” my aunt said, “carnelian.”

The witches all grew restless, trying their best to get a look at me as my aunt pulled a long necklace from the ornate box.

The chain was heavy and a dull silver, the thick links all made to support the whopping stone that hung on the end.

The carnelian stone was a deep orangey-red color that was streaked with burnt orange, brown, and blood-red inflections.

The stone was nearly a perfect oval, heavy and round. It almost winked at me when it caught the flames.

“Carnelian,” my aunt repeated, “to give you energy, courage, confidence, and the ~will~ to overcome any obstacle, boundary, or enemy.”

It was pressingly silent as Aunt Robin slipped the necklace over my head and let it rest against my chest.

I looked up and smiled at her, trying my best to send her my thanks. She blinked away tears, pride cracking through whatever rough exterior she presented.

I shifted my body slightly, adjusting to the new weight of the ceremonial stones.

I began the slow walk down the aisle toward the altar as the drums picked back up and the witches began to sing.

The moon hung heavy and full above us, and for a moment, my skin rose with the presence of something otherworldly.

My mother smiled as I approached her. She was adorned in many crystals herself.

Her dark hair hung in a loose braid down her back, and on her wrists were two heavy, silver cuffs that were ornately carved with symbols and pictures I couldn’t make out.

She had a small table beside her filled with different bowls and jars and dried petals and leaves. My nerves returned as I took in the extensive range of items needed in order to unbind my powers.

My mother was patient, waiting for me to join her under the altar made from birch trees and fastened with hanging bunches of flowers and dried herbs.

I came to stand beside her and drew my chin up as high as I could.

I had been given the rundown of what was going to happen, but my nerves and the drums and the moon had driven all logic and thought out of my brain.

“Morda Morano, Daughter of Clan Mother Lila Morano and Descendant of Clan Mothers Edith, Ruth, and Agnes.

“Morda, future Clan Mother of the Western Witch Clan and enchantress of fire magic. Do you wish to proceed in this ceremony?”

I gave a deep nod. “Yes, I do.”

My mother smiled and then twitched it off her lips.

She picked up a bundle of sage and cleansed the altar before announcing my title once more and invoking any goddesses who were present and willing to help.

The other witches continued to sing as my mother spoke and the drums beat on.

After dipping my fingers in water, holding a bundle of twigs and flowers as it burned, rubbing salt into the skin of my inner wrists, and repeating a number of chants and prayers, I began to worry less.

Soon I was following the ritual mindlessly, taking each new step as it came and finding myself getting closer to the history behind me.

To the pagans and the Wiccans and the Druids and the modern day witches who were a mix of them all.

I felt the power of the earth under my feet, felt the blessing of the moon on my skin, and acknowledged the whispers of the wind through my hair.

I was a part of this world, and this ceremony was waking me up to that fact.

My mother took a small dish in her hands. In it was a deep-red powder that looked to be several different flowers and herbs crushed together.

She took a heap of it on her thumb and started to draw carefully on my forehead.

A stroke toward the sky. “North,” she said, “for infinite wisdom.” To the side. “East, for future spirit.”

A down stroke. “South, for a pure present.” The last stroke was soft. “West, for peace with your past.”

I smiled at my mother as she set down the powder and picked up my hands, placing them softly on the metal cuffs on her wrists.

I gripped the cool metal tightly, feeling the patterns carved into them imprinting on my skin.

“Goddess,” she called, “this woman is an open vessel. She is ready to receive whatever gifts you see fit to bestow upon her. Fill her with your wisdom, with your love, with your power.

“Allow her to wield the elements and read nature’s signs. Give her the tools she needs to navigate this world and others.

“Bless her with good fortune and strength, show her your favor so she can spend her life in your service.”

The witches gathered started a low, throaty chant. The sound rose to pretty crescendos and then dropped into gritty, rhythmic lows.

Perhaps there was a goddess watching over this ceremony or perhaps it was just coincidence, but the wind picked up the edges of my hair and dress, and the moon seemed to shine a little brighter off my skin.

The trees around us started a dance, and I caught Eve’s wink. The flames on the torches grew and swayed as if rooting for me. The clouds cleared away above us, giving us an unbeatable view of the stars.

The witches joined hands and then started to sway from side to side, chanting and singing and laughing. My mother had closed her eyes, her mouth pinched as she focused, calling upon all the goddesses.

I kept my eyes wide open, trying to drink everything in as my skin started to heat up. Sweat pooled at the base of my hair, my palms, and the narrow space between my breasts.

I felt flushed and damp as if I had just finished a run.

The cuffs around my mother’s wrists started to heat up, too, until they were almost painful to hold on to. I grasped them tightly, though, the pain numbing my palms.

The air grew heavy around me, making it difficult to draw in a full breath.

“Goddesses,” my mother shouted over the chanting, “give her strength! Give her power! Give her magic!”

I felt an unmistakable blow to the chest, like someone had picked up a battering ram and tried to cave in my ribs. I lost all the air in my lungs and sputtered to draw in another breath.

Before I could, I was hit again, crying out and falling over as the pain resonated through me.

Distantly, I heard my mother call my name, but the pain in my chest was roaring through my ears, my skull. The ram hit again, and I fell to my knees, clutching my mother’s cuffs and fighting to breathe.

I felt heat lick my skin and opened my eyes long enough to see that the ends of my hair had turned to flame, caressing my skin but not burning.

I gasped as I was struck in the chest once more and the fire evaporated, my hair, skin, and clothing unburned.

I heard the howl of a wolf as another wave of pain tore through me. By now, I was sure my ribs were shattered, tiny pieces of bone embedded somewhere deep in my heart.

The pain forced my eyes closed, forced me to sink farther into the ground.

My mother was crouched in front of me, her words of comfort falling deaf on my ears. Nothing she could say would console me in this pain. Nothing she promised would bring an end to this torture.

I cried out as the pain struck my chest again. My body shook as I tried to absorb the shock of it, my fingers closing tightly over my mother’s cuffs.

She was shouting my name, but my aunt was there, trying to comfort her. I would make it through this. I had to.

I heard the wolf howl again; this time, the sound was closer, more immediate, and chilling. There was no answering call, no pack to offer assistance. The wolf was alone, and it was crying out in pain.

I cried with it as I was struck again; this time, the hit was off-center and left my skin burning. I dropped my hold on my mother’s wrists and folded over completely.

Tears rushed down my cheeks as I curled my fingers first into the earth underneath me and then into my own chest.

I was surprised to find my chest intact. The skin wasn’t shredded, the bone wasn’t shattered; my heart was not exposed. The pain I felt, no matter how physical I had thought it was, had only been mental.

I drew in a shaking breath and opened my eyes. I took a moment there, staring at the ground before I lifted my head slowly, raising my eyes.

I had expected to meet my mother’s proud stare, but she was no longer there. In her place was the stag.

The deer stood proudly before me, its antlers twisting to the sky, and its hooves planted firmly in the soft ground. It fixed its dark eyes on me, breathing heavily from its nose, its massive chest heaving.

I stood on trembling legs and reached for the animal. It allowed me to place a hand on the side of its neck. As soon as I touched the stag, I understood its message. ~Greeting~ and ~pride.~

I smiled at the deer, trying to communicate a message of my own. ~Awe.~

“Morda.”

I jumped, spooking the deer and spurring it to flee. That voice didn’t belong.

I turned back to the witches gathered, but instead of reflecting on their looks of complete disbelief, I could only see one face.

Grant’s.

He stood beside Eve, tall and pale and brilliant under the moonlight. His eyes doubled in size when he saw me, mouth falling open slightly. He cleared his throat before taking a step forward.

But before he could speak, my mother cut across the lawn, hurrying toward me with frantic eyes.

She gripped my hands tightly in hers and then fell to her knees, tears leaking onto her cheeks.

As soon as she knelt, so did every other witch until it was only Grant and me left standing in the small backyard.

“Morda,” she said, her voice choked off with emotion. She shook her head as if to clear it and squeezed my hands once more.

“Morda,” she cried, “you have been chosen, my love. You will be our Clan Mother, yes, but you will also be our High Matron.”

“I—”

“The stag,” my mother explained, “it appeared as a sign from the Goddess herself. She has chosen you to be her representative. You will serve as the High Matron, as the ambassador of our kind.”

She reached a hand upward to cup my chin and then ran it down my neck until she was gripping my hair. She moved it aside and then pushed the collar of my dress away.

My skin was marked. The shape was hard to make out at first. My angle and a slight amount of swelling made it hard to decipher at first glance.

I frowned down at it, recalling the final blow to my chest that had left my skin singing.

It was an arrow.

Unmistakably.

“Morda,” Grant called again, taking a few careful steps forward. The closer he got, the more I noticed about him.

He was wearing ill-fitting clothes, suggesting he had shifted and grabbed these on the go. He was also covered in dirt, his face and neck were smeared with it.

I blinked. “What?”

His look told me everything I needed to know, but I was still struck when he said, “Ben.”

I stepped around my mother, and she let me go.

“What happened?” I asked, my voice low and steady despite how fast my mind was spinning.

“They caught him,” he said, “Cerberus. They caught him off guard during his shift.

“I tried—I tried to distract them—tried to lead them away, but they knew where he was, and I couldn’t convince them. I’m sorry—I tried for you, Morda.”

“Where is he now?” I asked, my voice tight.

“They’re heading to the closest official pack, Astoria—”

“Take me,” I insisted, “take me to him.”

“Morda—” my mother protested.

“I’ll come with you,” Eve stated, drawing her chin up.

“You can’t,” Aunt Robin insisted, “you’re going to crash any minute. Your body—”

I held up a hand, and amazingly, she was silenced. I fixed my gaze on Grant. “Take me to Ben.”

He nodded and turned, making his way through the group of hostile witches who had nothing but gnarly glares and raised lips for him.

Eve came to my side and stared down the witches who opened their mouths to challenge us, her bright-green eyes becoming scary.

I tried my best to walk despite the fact that it felt like my knees were missing. Eve gripped my arm tightly where the other witches wouldn’t be able to see.

Grant waited for us at the edge of the backyard, his gaze switching between me and my mother who was no doubt casting some seriously evil looks his way.

“Are you sure—”

I cut him off. “We have to save Ben.”

He nodded. “Astoria it is, then. Get ready to meet Alpha Evers.”