Chapter 25 No Place Like Home. #2
“Maybe,” she agreed. “Now go get showered and dressed for the bonfire,” she encouraged. “And you can come with me, while you wait your turn for the shower, I’m making cheese scones and could use some help,” she said to Ana, taking her hand and leading her away.
“I’ll shout when the shower is free,” I told her, trying not to laugh at the panic on Ana’s face.
I was hoping that she would fill Rosemary and Father in on everything that had happened so far. Selfishly, I didn’t want to have to do that. I didn’t want to see my father’s disapproving look or hear his comments, and I didn’t want to worry Rosemary. Ana would be better at explaining things.
Father called me aside when I entered the living room, and Ana went for her turn in the shower.
It felt so odd to be wearing an old, ripped pair of jeans and a patchworked woollen winter jumper and hat.
It had been so long since I had worn something that felt handmade, multiple times over, due to the repairs.
Selene provided me with far more than anyone really needed.
“Your friend tells me that you joined The New Foundation!” he growled angrily.
“It’s not like I had a choice,” I defended, before I realised that he wouldn’t be angry like he was if he didn’t know who The New Foundation were. “You know about them,” I stated.
“I know,” he admitted, and the way his shoulder stiffened felt wrong. For the first time, I felt like I couldn’t trust him.
“How much do you know? Did you know that my mother was the daughter of Lady Persephone of Flores? That she was the result of a rape? That she was a dual user?” I challenged.
“You were too young to understand —” he started before I cut him off.
“Too young! You should have said something!” I raised my voice, and Galan began to cry in his crib across the room.
Rosemary entered the doorway and walked quickly over to him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake him,” I apologised, feeling bad that I had barely been home an hour and already I had made him cry.
“It’s not good for him to be around negative energy or raised voices.
I’ve just taken scones out of the oven; they’re cooling down.
Bring them to the bonfire. I feel that the two of you have some things to talk about.
Galan and I will be at Sarah’s. I’ll stay around until Ana is dressed and take her with me.
We’re preparing food for tonight,” Rosemary said as she left the room with Galan.
Dad sighed heavily beside me.
“Let’s sit in your garden, I put a bench out there after you left,” he said as he walked through the kitchen to the back door.
My garden was dead, and I couldn’t stop myself from beginning to work my magic, reaching out and touching every plant I passed to bring it to bloom and fruit.
“I’m sorry, it’s difficult to keep up without you,” he said.
“It’s okay. I understand,” I replied and sat down next to him on a bench handmade from driftwood.
“What do you want to know?” he asked after a while, as we sat in silence, the sun already setting behind us, the sea reflecting its colours.
“Everything. Everything I should have known from the start,” I answered.
He sighed heavily.
“We never meant to keep anything from you. Your mother and I didn’t know how we would tell you.
Damia used to say that it all felt so far away, like a dream, like maybe it wasn’t even her life,” he said and scratched his overgrown beard that I noticed had grey now.
“She wanted to protect you. She left that job to me. She’d be so disappointed if she could see how badly I failed,” he finished.
“You didn’t fail,” I said and lay my head against his shoulder.
“I did, Percy. I allowed a Borealis Royal to take you from me. If I had done something. If I had stopped her. None of this would have happened. You wouldn’t be in danger now,” he said.
“Soul matches are fate. No one has control over fate. You couldn’t have predicted it. You couldn’t have stopped it. And even with everything that’s happened, I’m happy with her, Dad. I love her,” I told him.
“You would have found love regardless,” he insisted.
“Not like this,” I countered. “Nothing could compare.”
He sighed heavily again, like he didn’t want to argue with me but definitely didn’t agree.
“Your mum was running from her coven when I met her. Do you know about the dark times of the Flores coven? What happened before you were born, when your mother was a little girl?” he asked.
“I know about when the Houses abused Flores, and no one helped them. I know that’s why they disappeared,” I said.
“Damia used to say it was a perfect storm, one terrible thing after the other. First her mother’s rape, and your mother’s mother never wanted her, never treated her right.
She saw her rapist in your mother. If it wasn’t for her father, your mother’s father that is, Damia said she thought her mother would have killed her in the womb.
“He forced her to carry your mother. Lady Flores, your grandmother, never really recovered from that. Damia didn’t really blame her.
She had so much empathy, your mother. So much kindness.
Forgiveness. She even empathised with the woman who abused her all her life, and it got so much worse after her father, her real father, Karo, not the rapist scum, died.
Damia said that, as angry as her mother was with her father for forcing her to keep her, she truly loved him. ”
The ocean breeze chilled me, and I saw by the set of my father’s shoulders that he was still silently grieving my mother. I prayed that I never knew such endless pain.
“His death was another blow. At the same time the kingdom experienced the worst streak of winters in generations. Suddenly, so many of Flores were experiencing situations similar to what your grandmother had gone through, and no one helped. Every House, they all turned a blind eye. Your grandmother is a smart woman, and she became enraged. She led raids and rescue missions, and she called back every Flores witch to the fold and ordered that none ever again offer their services to the Houses of the Kingdom,” he explained.
“Can anyone blame her?” I asked. When Lady Flores spoke about my mother, she made it seem as if my mother had been wanted, cherished, even. I realised that story was simply a manipulation to endear me to her more quickly.
“Damia didn’t. And the way she felt… It wasn’t unique.
Many in the coven felt the same. And those who didn’t?
They couldn’t blame those who did. Many deserted to the Enchanters Guild.
But your grandmother became more militant.
The entire inner circle of Flores did. It wasn’t long before The New Foundation was born.
“When your mother developed as a dual user, your grandmother became obsessed that it had to be due to her mixed magic heritage.
By the time your mother was in her early twenties, her siblings had already had children, hoping to create more dual users.
From what your mother knew, your grandmother wanted to create a whole new generation of Flores loyal dual user witches.
A coven that could never be abused and ignored again. A coven that could take revenge.
“Damia wanted no part of it. She was gentle; she hated violence, and even arguing upset her. I remember raising my voice soon after we first met; she had almost drowned herself, and… it doesn’t matter.
What matters is that she cried so hard you’d have thought I had said or done something terrible.
Anyway, your grandmother became convinced that mixing Flores' magic with the other covens could produce stronger and stronger witches.
“She began a program to create more mixed Flores witches. Nasty stuff, that is, creating life with that type of intention. Your grandmother wanted Damia to join the program to create the first of the second generation. So, your mother ran. We met. We fell in love, and she hid out here for a few years, and we had you. That’s everything.
No more secrets.” He rubbed his hands on his knees anxiously.
“She did it,” I said, and he turned to look at me. “I mean, Lady Flores — she’s not my grandmother, blood doesn’t automatically equal family — she made a generation of dual users and some with novel abilities like me.”
“You have a novel ability?” he asked, his eyes widening.
I looked away in shame.
“Yeah, you didn’t hear about it? Ana didn’t tell you while I was in the shower?” I asked.
“I don’t know a thing. What is it?” he asked.
“Death,” I said quietly.
“Death?” he asked.
“When I harness my magic, it doesn’t allow me to use more magic as it does for others.
It bursts out of me as something new. As a cold death.
Real death. Not like winter, when much of plant life simply rests, but true death.
I destroyed an entire garden, a whole grove and…
I don’t know if you know about it, but in Ardens, there is this maze. ”
“I know,” he said.
“It was made with inter-coven magic, and well, I could control it. On my own,” I revealed.
“Percy, that… this… I don’t… this isn’t good,” he settled on, stumbling over his words.
“No, I know,” I said.
“Who knows that you can do this?” he asked.
“Everyone. I didn’t exactly hide it; I wasn’t expecting it to happen.
The revelation of my novel ability was a pretty big public thing.
It’s why we had to leave Sanguis Academy.
Selene became terrified that the Academy wasn’t safe for me, so we went to House Ardens…
it wasn’t safe for me there either,” I explained.
“You need to leave,” he said sternly.
It was like being slapped across the face. My father had never harmed me in any way, but he was telling me to leave my home because of my magic, because of the danger I was to everyone and it physically hurt.
“O-okay,” I stuttered out past the lump in my throat.