A Winding Wave of Magic

62. Old New World

There is a trace time can’t efface

Nor years of absense dim;

It is the thought of yon sweet spot

Yon fountain’s fairy brim

— FATHER PROUT, “SUNDAY’S WELL”

I was alive.

I thought.

At least, I was about ninety percent sure.

Everything else could have been a product of death’s embrace. The cave, with its winding spirals and glowing walls, my soul’s sarcophagus. The warm remnants of my lover’s embrace mere comfort as I completed the passage from one world to the next.

But my breath…the way the air filled my lungs with every inhale and exhale. The way the chill of it played over my naked skin.

I was alive.

Still trapped in an ancient underground cave.

And yet somewhere…new.

A shiver tore through my body, wresting my consciousness back to the surface. It was then I opened my eyes fully into a wide ray of light that streamed from the ceiling of the cave and then proceeded to bend around the corner and down a passage.

A passage that had not been there before.

Maybe I was dead after all.

I sat up, also conscious of things that, in my mind, wouldn’t really matter if I was dead. Things like the way my naked skin pebbled in the cool air or how tiny bits of gravel clung to the backs of my arms.

My joints ached, and my head throbbed like I had traveled a long way.

Maybe I had.

I wouldn’t feel that way if I were dead, would I?

“Jonathan.”

Beside me, my mate’s sleeping form hummed with life and warmth, one arm slung across my lap, proprietary even in his sleep.

Mate.

Yes.

Something told me that connection was different now too. The cord, that blue-amber bond, was a color of its own now when I closed my eyes to look. Something closer to sage, the hue of Jonathan’s shifter eyes during magic hour.

His fingers stretched, then curled into the flesh of my thigh, like a cat flexing its paws when it purred. A part of me yearned to return to the fold of his arms and bury myself in their comfort, just like another part of me considered pushing him onto his back and taking him deep inside me a second time just because I could.

But there were more important things to attend to.

Things like figuring out what had just happened to us. And where in the name of the goddess we were.

Jonathan, I tried again through a touch on his shoulder.

He huffed and turned over, baring a long, muscled thigh and reaching an arm over his head to reveal the tattoo just under his bicep. A lynx in a wreath. Even now, the animal’s eyes seemed to glow.

I grabbed his hand and shouted through our bond. JONATHAN! WAKE UP!

He shot up with a start and a growl. “What? What is it? Where—good fucking gods. ”

I felt his senses take in the differences in the cave just as I had, though he took a few more minutes to track the perimeter and notice a few things I hadn’t, like a change in scent and a shift in the cave’s energy.

At last, his eyes met mine. “Where are we?”

I shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Some things were familiar if not exactly the same. The patterns on the cave’s walls were still weathered by time, but significantly sharper than they had been in the dark. I recognized the height of the chamber and the rock we had given ourselves to, though, under my seat, it wasn’t quite as smooth.

The biggest difference, however, was the fact that where the current had previously eddied into a pool now stretched a long, winding passage carved from rock, tunneling through walls decorated with more spirals and other signs I’d only seen in archaeology articles and picture books.

A breeze floated down the passage and wrapped around us both. I shivered again.

“You’re cold,” Jonathan said.

“Well, I am naked.” I looked around. “And our clothes seemed to have disappeared along with the water.”

“I know. Come here.”

Maybe I should have felt shy in nothing but my skin now that a bit more light was here to reveal all of my imperfections, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Something had broken down between the two of us, reduced to our most savage, animal urges. There was no going back now.

I was gathered into my mate’s arms, and the warmth of his body fused with mine as I nuzzled, marveling at the small things I hadn’t been able to see in the dark. The soft blond hair scattered across his pectoral muscles. The translucent freckles dappling the tops of his shoulders and the back of his neck. The strong lines of muscle and grace that carved over his chest and stomach as if applied with a sculpture’s chisel.

You’re beautiful, I thought. What a gift, at the end of the earth.

My chin was tipped up, and a soft kiss pressed to my lips. Thank you . But you’re the work of art .

“So, the myths are true?” I joked. “Shifters do run hotter? I thought that was just a Twilight thing.”

For that, I received a nip on my ear. “Thankless wench. You could just stick to gratitude. I believe you cried my name at least three times.”

“You wouldn’t like me otherwise.”

He chuffed but didn’t argue as he kissed me again with a bit more fervor and pulled me astride his lap. I looked down to find the solid fact of him aligned with me. I considered it a moment—the tilt of my hips, and he would be there again to banish the uncertainty of our situation and bring us to, well, if not the here and now, then another.

“Casssssss.”

A promise of something more, however, was interrupted when he broke the kiss to look around again. “Something else is different.”

“The cave, I know.”

Not that . When Jonathan’s eyes met mine, they sparkled with magic.

I sat up straight. “Your power’s back?”

He nodded. “Seems that way. It feels different, but it’s definitely here.”

I could feel it too as he shared his Sight with me. Of me. There I was, awash with color, my own deep blue, but also his amber too, and the soft green that connected us now. And there, in the center of my mind, something blossomed.

That’s your power, love . His voice was a soft rumble through our bond. It’s grown too .

Tentatively, I reached down to touch the rock we sat on. No memories came to play, but something else arose instead at my inquisitive touch. Like the water had once spoken to me, sheltered me from chaos, the stone now did the same, offering its stability and strength in a moment where panic seemed apropos.

Feel the earth .

I did. And somehow, it welcomed me.

I didn’t know what that meant.

Or why it should even matter now.

Another breeze floated by.

A breeze. Which required a place for wind to pass.

Which meant the passage…was open.

A shiver shot down my spine that had nothing to do with the chill or the fact that I was as naked as the day I was born. Jonathan stiffened as he followed my thoughts.

We both stared down the passage just as footsteps sounded through the darkness.

Move .

In a moment, we were up on our feet, moving back into the shadows that still clung to the walls. Jonathan’s eyes locked on the darkened tunnel where the sounds emerged as he moved in front of me and crouched, keeping a hand twisted behind him to hold my wrist so I had the benefit of his thoughts and his Sight.

The echoes grew louder, reverberating off the ancient walls of the chamber like a drumbeat of warning. Seconds later, two figures appeared at the mouth of the tunnel, cloaked in a combination of roughly spun wool tunics and animal skins draped over their shoulders.

One was a woman whose age seemed to have touched only her hair, a mass of silver locs and braids tied off with beads made of gold and carved bone. Her companion was obviously younger, a girl with darker skin and bright blue eyes, whose deep brown hair was similarly adorned, if not with so many beads. She carried a bundle of skins and cloth under one arm and held a smoking bundle of herbs in her other hand.

They’re related , Jonathan informed me.

It was unnecessary. Through his Sight, the likeness of their energy was obvious in the swirling mix of blue and green particles.

Watery energy.

The energy of seers.

The older one opened her mouth and spoke. “ Maíth .” She continued speaking in a tongue that was melodic and somewhat familiar, like a song I’d heard in a dream.

Is it…Irish ? I asked Jonathan.

The woman stopped like I’d spoken to her directly.

I don’t think so , he replied. Not quite .

Her eyes, a bold, bright blue even in the dim light of the cave, shot to him as though his thoughts for me had also been spoken aloud.

“Mother, can you hear us speak when our lips do not move?” I asked in tentative, stilted Old Irish that I knew better from books than from ever speaking it. It wasn’t quite what she was speaking either, but maybe a little bit closer.

She said something else, then took the bundle of smoking herbs from the girl beside her and waved the smoke between us in a motion that I knew well. Saining was a language in and of itself.

When she spoke again, I understood her as if she had used English. “Of course, I can, daughter. I know my children always.”

I blinked in shock. Jonathan’s touch told me he was equally surprised by whatever spell she had just cast. Neither of us had seen anything like it.

“ We have been waiting for you,” the woman said. “Come.”

She beckoned to the girl, who placed the pile of skins and clothes at our feet, then backed away with deference, though not without a few curious glances. Jonathan’s touch asked me to wait while he mumbled a quick spell, testing the clothes for any kind of curse or disease, but also cleaning them to his standard.

Now I know how you keep your shirts pressed all the time .

With a roll of his eyes, he handed me a linen overdress the color of grass at the end of summer and a short cape made of soft deerskin lined with rabbit fur. He put on something similar. When we were finished, he took my hand again.

Stay behind me .

“She has nothing to fear from us, Katto Brixta ,” said the old woman.

I glanced at him. Did she just call you Brigid’s Cat?

His mouth quirked. I think…I think she knows what I am. To my surprise, he didn’t seem particularly alarmed by the prospect. I think she knows a lot of things.

“Come,” beckoned the woman again, pounding her stick impatiently into the ground. “You must meet the day. There is work to do.”

With another shared glance and a shrug, Jonathan and I stepped off the rock and followed the two women into the passage.

After all, it wasn’t as if we had many other options.

The passage wound through the rock, lit only by the flickering torches the older woman and the girl carried. The air grew colder as we dove deeper into the earth, the ground beneath our feet uneven and rough. Jonathan’s hand stayed firmly clasped around mine as we followed our mysterious guides, unsure of where this journey would lead us.

As we walked, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, of unseen eyes tracking our every move. The shadows danced and twisted, whispering secrets that brushed against my skin like icy fingers. Jonathan’s presence was a comforting anchor in this strange and unsettling place.

The tunnel eventually narrowed into smaller tunnels, many of them breaking off into chambers decorated with shrines and offerings. Tombs, obviously. But possibly serving other purposes as well. I kept looking for the ledge where we had originally jumped into the river, or maybe the door through which Caleb Lynch or Senni Perumal might appear.

But there was no sign of any of it. If they were anywhere in the underground complex, it was on another path than this. My touch didn’t reveal their memories or presence anywhere.

We were in a completely different location.

The women took a sharp right, and suddenly the path grew steep as we walked up. Seconds later, we emerged into daylight.

I gulped the fresh air, and tears bit my cheeks. I had honestly thought I’d never taste it again.

We were free.

Beside me, Jonathan was trembling, fighting the urge to shift. The intensity of the night apparently kept the lynx closer to the surface than normal.

Do you need to …I started.

He shook his head. I’m not leaving you now . Look at where we are .

I turned and nearly fell over.

Because I had been here before.

In fact, I had walked this very passage only days before, on the outskirts of Brú na Bóinne, in an unknown tomb that was only just beginning to be excavated. Except at that time, the cave had been mostly buried under rock and stone and grass that had hidden it for thousands of years.

This version of the tomb was, well, if not new, then certainly well cared for.

Are we…

Jonathan shook the thought away. Clearly, he wasn’t ready to contemplate what had just crossed my mind.

The old woman beckoned again from where she and the girl stood at the edge of a hill that dipped down to a river running below, lined with trees and bracken. But where I had once seen the outlines of villages and remnants of medieval castles, there was just grass and forest. The only sign of settlement lay at the far side of the river—a collection of four or five round huts built in a circle, nestled among lush greenery and meandering streams. Smoke rose lazily from the centers of thatched roofs, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and cooking food up to where we stood.

The old woman gestured towards the village with a weathered hand, her eyes alight with ancient wisdom. “This is our home,” she said in a voice that resonated with the earth. “Ok’lura.”

Whether it was because of the spell she had cast in the cave or something else, a part of my mind was able to translate the name as roughly “The Earth’s Eye.”

It was Celtic…but not. Closer to some of the root words of proto-Celtic theorized by linguists. An older language. Older even than the Irish spoken to the Romans when they had first scouted the area.

I exchanged another glance with Jonathan, who looked just as bewildered as I felt.

The old woman turned her gaze towards me, her eyes seeming to pierce through my very soul. “You have come at a time of great need, Cassandra.” She spoke softly, yet her words carried an undeniable weight.

I started at the sound of my name. She knows my name.

Jonathan squeezed my hand. She knows lots of things , he reminded me.

The girl with bright blue eyes stood silently by, her gaze fixed on us with a mix of curiosity and something deeper.

“We are the keepers of ancient knowledge and guardians of forgotten truths,” the old woman continued. “Ok’lura has been waiting for the Oracle for many suns. We have work to do before the oresmith arrives.”

Oracle? Oresmith? What was going on?

“Be with your moment,” said the woman before she took the girl’s hand and started down the hill. “Come when you can. We will have hare and new bread to eat.”

They left us there as if she knew that like children, we would have no choice but to follow.

I turned to Jonathan.

His expression mirrored my confusion and apprehension. The weight of the situation hung heavy around us, mingling with the scents of earth and distant woodsmoke. Jonathan’s grip on my hand tightened, a silent reassurance.

“We’re dreaming, right?” I had to ask. “It has to be a dream. Because if it’s not a dream, then that means we’re?—”

“In another time,” Jonathan agreed.

The crisp breeze, the solid ground beneath my feet, the vivid details of Ok’lura unfolding before us—all of it felt too real to be a figment of imagination.

But now, the ground felt a bit unsteady.

Jonathan’s gaze swept over the village nestled in the wood beside the river. “I don’t think this is a dream, Cass. The air. It feels... ancient. Look at those trees. They don’t exist in our time. They’ve all been cut down and traded for farmland.”

His conclusion hit me like a wave breaking on the sand. “So, you honestly think we’ve...time-traveled?”

The words sounded absurd even as they left my lips, but there was a nagging sense of truth to them. The pieces were falling into place—our sudden appearance in an unfamiliar land, the strange language spoken by the women, and the unmistakable aura of something old surrounding us.

Jonathan hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly. “Every part of the scientist in me is looking for reasons to doubt it. But I can’t. The evidence is everywhere.”

Peels of laughter floated on the wind from Ok’lura, too real to be a dream.

“What did…what did we do ?” I couldn’t help but wonder. “Do you think it was the?—”

“Sex?” Mischief appeared on my mate’s handsome face, which comforted me more than any idea of food. “I’d like to think I’m good in bed, Cass, but I don’t think my skills can alter the space-time continuum.”

That, if anything, let me know this was real. Jonathan couldn’t hide the scientist in him if he tried.

I wanted to laugh with him, but couldn’t. Not quite. Something had happened in that cave when we gave ourselves up to the bond in the darkness. We’d found a different kind of light.

I’d asked the river for safety, and it had brought us to that spot.

Which had somehow transported us here.

“Many ancient cultures used sex as an offering,” I murmured, more to myself than to Jonathan. “It was more common at Imbolc—planting season—than at the solstice, but not unusual. And Bonfire night was only a few days ago.”

He nodded though. “Sex has its own magic, so that makes sense. Fertilize the fields, and whatnot.”

“Or a few thousand years.” It was meant as a joke, but obviously it wasn’t. Not when we were looking at an ancient Irish countryside in the flesh.

Something else, however, had just occurred to Jonathan as he turned to me. “Goddess,” he muttered, looking down at my belly as if he could already see something growing. “Oh gods , what have I done?”

I held a finger up to his mouth. “Don’t. Start. You did nothing.”

“You—you don’t know that.” His eyes flashed as he looked over me, as though he would be able to See the evidence of life growing within. “And we’re…the gods know where. And we—” He honestly seemed to stop breathing.

I just waited. If he could See it, I was certain I would be able to feel it. Know it in the depths of my soul. If conception caused the monumental change he was talking about, there was no way I wouldn’t know it happened. Would I?

At last, he shook his head when his search revealed nothing. “My magic isn’t the same here, but I don’t suppose you are pregnant. Still, though?—”

“Stop,” I said again. “We’re not going to think about it. Or feel bad about the fact that we gave in to our base instincts when we thought we were going to die, and the sex was so fucking good it literally transported us to another time and saved our lives. I’d say that’s a pretty solid first go at it, wouldn’t you?”

Jonathan’s lips twitched. “I suppose it’s one way to spice up our relationship.”

I grinned. “Who knew that a near-death experience could lead to time travel and a whole new level of intimacy?”

As we stood on the hill overlooking Ok’lura, a sense of urgency tugged at my thoughts. It didn’t feel like it was coming from me or the man currently holding my hand.

The feeling tugged harder, followed by a vision of the seeress who had found us.

“We’re being summoned,” I told Jonathan.

He turned to me curiously. “By our hosts? How can you tell?”

I nodded. “Pretty sure. And I’m not sure. But I think my magic is different here too.”

We turned back to the village, which the woman and her daughter (I assumed) were just entering. It was quite the idyllic scene, with men and women working in small fields encircling the houses while children skipped between them, followed by the occasional barking dog. When the seers arrived, most of the people stopped to greet them with a hug or kiss. Shouts of laughter rang through the air. The sizzle of barbecued meat floated through the air towards us, making my stomach growl.

It had been a very long time since breakfast.

“They seem happy to see them,” I said.

Jonathan nodded, still watching the scene.

“Maybe they’ll be happy to see us too.”

He hummed. “Maybe.”

“No one knows us there,” I found myself saying. “No Penny or Council or Secret anyone’s chasing. We can take our time here. Find something to eat. Talk to the fae who found us. Figure out why we’re here and how to get home when we’re ready.”

He still didn’t speak, lost somehow in the view of the town, and then, I Saw, another vision that overlapped in his mind.

A picture of his mother, who lived in a tiny village just a little bit larger than this one.

A white house with a thatched roof and a red door that Jonathan had left after she died.

A different house made of stucco and stone on a warm country hill, from which a black-haired woman with blue eyes emerged carrying a child in her arms with gingery blond hair and eyes the color of the sky.

I turned to face him. “Is that the future? Is it my vision or yours?”

“It’s just my imagination hard at work.” Then he turned to me with a smile that warmed me down to my toes. “A dream I might have one day. With my mate. If she’s willing.”

We looked at each other for a long time before I popped up on my toes and kissed him for as long as he could possibly want.

It took a long time.

But, as I pointed out, we were in no hurry.

The urgency pulled again. I pushed it away and kissed my mate one more time.

Finally, we both turned to the hill, hand in hand.

“Ready to meet our future?” I asked my mate.

“I think you mean our past.”

His fingers entwined with mine, and together, we took another step into the unknown.

Thank you so much for reading an advanced copy of A Winding Wave of Magic! While I AM writing a sequel, a book of this size requires a lot of time and research, so there is no approximate publication date…yet.