Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
Most, if not everyone, in the school comes to watch the Willow of Lore ceremony. It’s a tradition every year, and rumored to be bad luck if you miss it. Though, normally it happens on the winter solstice, not the autumn equinox.
Mavyn had known that. My firecracker knew about it even though the teachers aren’t allowed to explicitly teach it. Varian said there are a lot of gaps in the history books. Knowledge the Mage Board doesn’t want us learning.
But she knows about it. My firecracker – who’s currently twirling the end of a piece of hair around her finger.
This strand mostly blue, with the rest of it hanging in loose curls down her back.
It had been curled like that when she came back from her nightmare realm instead of in the bun she had put it in before.
I haven’t asked more about it because I haven’t wanted to overstep. Already I’ve gone too far, pushing too many of her boundaries. I don’t need her to shut me out more than she already does.
There’s also another long legged spider on top of her head. This one with a larger body and bright orange. Its legs scrawny but covered in orange and white striped fur. I’m pretty sure it’s a pumpkin cat, which are pest eaters and good for the environment but they’re also very venomous.
I wonder where she found it since they prefer deep, dark corners and don’t like people.
We walk side by side down one of the last corridors that lead into the first level of the building. The Willow of Lore sits in the very middle of the school. The reason most classrooms and lecture halls are upstairs is because the majority of the first level is taken up by the grounds.
People are already gathered as we turn down the last hall. Hundreds of students and staff stand around as tiny blue lights zip to and from.
Holding out my hand, I wait for Mavyn to take it. She doesn’t hesitate and I pull her through the crowd so we can get a better look. Even from here you can see the slightly glowing purple flowers of the tree.
It looks almost exactly like a wisteria tree, though the flowers hang like a weeping willow. And the bark is white, with a deep purple rune right in the middle of it. The symbol of the Willow of Lore.
There’s another symbol someone is able to make with their hands. No one does it though because to do it without proper knowledge and intent is to scorn the spirits. And doing that is a death sentence.
There are balconies surrounding above several levels too for the rest of the students. The presidents of the societies and their councils get first pick of wherever they want to stand first, then everyone else files in. Usually they take their seats on one of their benches.
Five benches, each for one of the houses, surround the tree. Long ago it had been for the five sub-races of the witches the houses are named after.
Thorne sits on Stone House’s bench in his perfectly tailored uniform. A foot resting over his knee and a stony expression.
Castiel lounges beside him with a book split between his fingers and his signature rumpled white button up. The first several buttons undone to show off his golden markings. Varian stands behind them, gold ringed red eyes roving over the courtyard.
I tap on his mental shields and his eyes fly straight towards me. His nostrils flare as he looks at Mavyn, and I glance back at her to see if she sees him. But she’s staring straight at the tree. Pale pink eyes wide with an awe and almost. . . reverence.
Slowing our pace, I tug her till we’re slightly behind but in between the Blood and Wood House benches.
Vivian and Claudia both sit on their benches chatting with their first year interns.
Jada, Vivian’s second on her council, glances at me and where we’re standing.
She raises a brow but doesn’t tell us to leave even though we shouldn’t be this close to their section.
I may not officially have joined a house, but with my father on the Mage Board and being close with two of the House Presidents I still get perks.
I loosen my hold on her hand in case she doesn’t want to hold it anymore, and immediately she lets go. I try not to let my hurt show, but my devil does pout at the loss of contact. However, she does lean closer to me and shifts her head before whispering, “Have you ever seen the ceremony before?”
Her eyes don’t leave the tree and the blue glowing spirits of the willow zip around us. Tiny, fairy looking creatures with a soft blue aura around them, stop before Mavyn. She smiles at them and tilts her head as one of them flies up towards her head. Towards the pumpkin cat still resting on her.
“Hello,” she murmurs to them, and eyes around the courtyard start looking at her.
“I’ve been to one before,” I answer her quietly. “My father brought me a couple years ago when Thorne and Darian were attending for their first year.”
She hums and lifts her finger up to the spirits. I can tell multiple people around us hold in their breath as one of the spirits float over. This close I can see actual individual features. Their face, body, and even tinier white lights surrounding them and their blue aura.
The softest hum eminates from them and I watch almost transfixed as Mavyn – my firecracker, my fated – softly harmonizes with them.
Faster than a blink, the small spirit zips towards Mavyn’s extended finger, hugs it, and then zips away. The other spirits that had been sitting on her head with the spider and toying with the ends of her hair follow.
Jada, Vivian, and Claudia are all staring at us with their mouths hung open.
As well as the other House Presidents, older year students, and Varian and Castiel.
Varian tries entering my mind through our link but I lock it off.
I don’t want to speak to him right now. Even though he helped me earlier, I only want to enjoy this moment with her.
With my fated. My apology for all the hurt I’ve caused her, because attending the ceremony with someone in this fashion is either to cement their relationship, or to start anew.
Mavyn finally notices all the eyes on her and she shifts the tiniest bit closer to me.
“Why is everyone staring at me?” she whispers.
She had looked at the Willow of Lore with awe when we came in, but the true wonder here is her.
“Because the spirits have never approached anyone before and they have never sung for anything but the willow.”
Pale pink eyes look at me with curiosity. They’re a deeper shade of pink right now and around her iris it almost looks like it’s sparkling. A silvery hue ringing her pink eyes that are boarding on red. They look so beautiful right now.
Too soon she looks away and back to the tree. Spirits still roaming around the ground and through the flowers readying it. Soft light beginning to emanate from the purple flowers and a scent of berries weaves through the air.
“That’s weird,” I murmur. Mavyn hums at me and I take in a lungful of that scent. “Normally it should smell like creamy vanilla, but it’s sweeter.”
She takes a sniff and looks up to the top of the tree.
High above it is a clear glass dome exposing the night sky.
The faint outline of the new moon is halfway into the top, middle plane of glass.
Normally its phase is first quarter, but since the ceremony for some reason is happening today, it’s a new moon instead.
Either way, when the moon is fully within that circular plane of glass, that’s when the ceremony will begin.
“It starts with a song,” I explain, which gains her attention though she keeps her eyes on the tree. I spot Asher and Jullia across from us behind Thorne’s bench. Him, Castiel, and Varian are all still staring at Mavyn. Darian, who’s sitting on his Breath House bench is peering at Mavyn too.
Softly clearing my throat, I ignore them and finish explaining. Since Mavyn was born and raised on Earth, and it’s not taught about, she doesn’t know the process of the ceremony.
“The Willow of Lore was created a long time ago by the first witches as a symbol after the first war between gods. The grounds extending over the roots of the tree a neutral ground for all, including primordials. It symbolizes renewal, growth, friendship, family, and home after tragedy. And the reason the flowers are purple is because while that’s the color of royalty, it’s also a color not associated with any house or right of power. ”
The spirits finish weaving around the grounds. Blue light is left drifting like wisping shadows throughout the area and that creamy sweet scent hits closer to berry.
“Once the spirits of the Willow of Lore have finished preparing the ground with their aura,” I continue, “they start humming the melody of their song of old. Because spirits can’t speak, the words have been lost over time but even if it was known it’s not to be sung just as their symbol is not to be made. ”
“Why?” she whispers, and a hush goes through the space as the moon nearly enters the space it’s supposed to. While it is a new moon, a ring of light illuminates its outline making it so we can clearly see it.
“Because,” I breathe even quieter, “to sing the words and make the symbol without the proper knowledge of what the Willow of Lore encompasses and without the intent of the magic it’s considered a smite to the spirits. Now, it should be starting any moment.”
She leans slightly into me and I take a chance and slide my hand around the small of her back. While she tenses, she doesn’t move away or say anything.
It feels right to touch her – even if it isn’t skin on skin.
My hand wrapping around her side and resting there.
I’d rest my chin on her head, but I won’t be risking the pumpkin cat biting me.
So I stay where I am with her shoulder and side pressed into me as her fingers still play with the end of her hair.