Chapter 17 #2
That hardly surprised me. If the ritual demanded the blood of three innocents, the Fae Queens would not have included that sort of magical instructions in their books. Their craft was rooted in nature, healing, nurturing.
Every spell I discovered was to block or defend or restore.
I found a spell to create portals that I thought might work for tonight; it wasn’t specifically for the Procession of Spirits, but from what I could gather from the rough sketches, it was a portal that could allow spirits to travel to another realm.
There were notably no spells to attack or destroy. Perhaps that pacifism had been the Fae Queens' downfall—they had trusted too long, loved too much, empathized too thoroughly. Will I make the same mistakes?
I glanced at Silas when he came to peer over my shoulder. He was currently inspecting an arsenal of weapons, knives, and swords large enough to arm a small battalion.
“You understand the Procession of Spirits involves spirits, not humans,” I reminded him with a smile. “I don’t know if you need to be armed to the teeth.”
“Fenlon will be there.” Silas caressed the edge of a blade a bit too eagerly. “It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”
I rolled my eyes. “Weapons won’t save us from the Darkest Lord.”
“That much is true.”
I had two main hopes for the night. The first was to finally prove that I had ancient Fae magic running through my veins.
Not because I wanted to be correct, but because then we could squash the stupid arguments around them once and for all.
I was sick of being accused and almost arrested based on nothing but fear and vitriol.
Maybe if I could prove that I had Fae Queen magic on a large scale, we could move on and figure out what actually came next.
Our best hope for that lay in the Procession of Spirits. It was well known that this was a ritual that could only be performed by a Fae Queen. That was a pretty simple equation, a yes or no answer, technically.
Though I hadn’t found a specific spell for tonight, I had found mentions of the Procession of Spirits and studied those images carefully.
I’d memorized as many spells as I could, finally resigning myself to be content with the fact that I would have to go into the ceremony tonight without a concrete path forward.
The path forward was something I’d determine as the night went on, or so I hoped.
I also found myself hoping fervently that after the ceremony tonight, the channel between myself and my ancestors would be opened more freely.
I had completed all three trials, yet I still could not summon their power on command—as evidenced by the fact that most of the Fae textbooks still read like gibberish—and I did not wish to wait for another attack to access those powers again.
As evening rolled around, my stomach was churning too much for any real dinner.
I settled for toast and an apple again—my staple before training.
I had not visited Seer Goddard today. I figured he knew I had passed the third trial.
I figured he knew about the Procession of Spirits. He had a way of knowing these things.
When I stepped out of Wisteria Cottage, Seer Goddard was the last person I expected to find waiting for me. He stood at the rock wall of the cottage, staring intently toward the setting sun, waiting patiently.
“Seer Goddard,” I said in greeting. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to training today. It’s been… busy around here.”
“I know.”
“I’m sure you’re aware that I passed the third trial last night,” I told him, as Silas and Millie backed away to give us some space.
“I want to thank you. I know I was skeptical and difficult at first, but I could not have done any of this without you. Thank you for taking a risk on me and using your patience to help me get through this part.”
“It would have been a risk not to help you.” Seer Goddard folded his hands in front of his body. “You have everything you need now. Channels that have been blocked for centuries are open again. The magic of the Fae Queens has returned because of you.”
“What happens next?”
Seer Goddard shook his head. “The Darkest Lord is preparing his attack. He sees you as the only threat to his kingdom, which is correct, I might add. He’ll strike while you’re weakest, before you fully embrace your powers.
That’s why he’s starting his ritual already.
He knows if he waits much longer, and you truly gain access to the magic of your ancestors, you will be virtually unstoppable. ”
I reached out and took Seer Goddard’s hands in mine, gave them a grateful squeeze.
His eyes widened as he looked to where our hands touched, and I wondered if this was the first time he’d had physical contact with someone in weeks, if not longer.
Ever since we’d started training, he had lived atop the mountain.
Our conversation had been mostly sparse and functional.
Sympathy and gratitude welled in my chest for the sacrifices he’d made for me. “You will always be welcome in my court, Seer Goddard.”
The Seer’s first true smile stretched ear to ear, pride shining in his gaze. He just gave a nod, like there were not fitting words to reply to that.
“Good luck tonight,” he said. “Though it’s not luck you need.”
“I haven’t found a spell for the ceremony.”
“It is my understanding there are purposefully none written, as only a true Fae Queen knows how to release a captive spirit. You will forge your own way forward.”
Then the Seer turned, wandering back up the dusty road in his bare feet, his robe dragging over the gravel. He did not say goodbye; he did not need to. I knew this was the last I’d see of him for now.
I turned in his absence to find Silas and Millie waiting for me. A new addition had arrived: Atlas stood by his brother’s shoulder. When I raised my eyebrows at him, he shrugged.
“Olympus is interested,” he said lightly, though I was sure there was more to the story.
“Then let’s give them something to be interested in,” I said, and nodded for our small party to make our way to the castle.
We arrived shortly thereafter, and I made my way to the second-floor balcony. When I stood in front of the throne, I placed my crown upon my head. I’d worn a simple white gown, similar to the one the Fae Queen had worn in the textbook images.
Out of his arsenal of weapons, Silas had ended up choosing only his Hunter’s knife. The same one he’d used to defeat the crimson lycanthrope. Millie bustled about the castle, sweeping the balcony with a vigor I’d never seen before when it came to a broom and a dustpan.
Leaning on the railing, I watched orange daylight melt into indigo while the moon climbed the horizon opposite it. Once darkness had fully settled over the Court of Isle, Fenlon and his friends arrived.
Fen glanced upward at me with a smirk. He was clearly confident nothing would happen tonight. He was certain I would fail; otherwise, he would never have lined the riverbank with eager spectators. He wanted to be proven right in front of his fans.
Midnight brought the first glimmers of silver.
The flickers started deep in the water, like enchanted minnows, flitting about, too far away to make out.
I merely observed them as they drifted upward, not saying anything.
I opened my Fae text to the spells I’d memorized for tonight.
But still I waited, sensing the time was not yet right to begin an incantation.
As the moon crept higher into the sky, the faces sharpened in the depths, drifting still closer. Silas stiffened beside me, one hand settling on my shoulder as he saw them. Millie’s soft gasp followed shortly thereafter. Atlas never reacted, but I knew he saw them too.
Fenlon’s companions were by far the last to notice, probably because they were lulled into a false sense of security by the copious amounts of wine and honeyed mead they’d brought, as if this were some sort of festival or celebratory event.
But at some point, one man closest to the water fell right out of his chair when he glanced at the surface. He scrambled up and away from the bank with a shriek. Goblets clattered as the rest of Fenlon’s crew caught glimpses of the faces in the shallow pool before the castle.
“It’s time,” I told Silas. “They’re ready.”
Silas just nodded. I noticed his hand went to his blade, but just briefly, a lightning-fast reaction before he rested his hand on my shoulder and gave a squeeze.
Atlas moved closer to me on the other side.
Millie stood a little ways off, watching with a pale face.
Several Rangers, including Ranger X and Lily with him, stood on the opposite bank as Fenlon, watching with curious gazes.
As I whispered the spell given to me by my ancestors, warmth began to surge through my veins, lighting me from within.
Thousands of voices in countless tongues filled my mind—each individually unintelligible, but together, a sacred chorus.
I knew this was not my magic alone. I was a conduit for all the past queens.
My hands glowed—and so did the river. Ley lines ignited across the island as I completed the spell, pale blue veins streaking across the ground, heaving with magic. The river was the largest among them, glowing like a portal, though it wasn’t a portal at all.
Water became blood, breath became wind, the earth’s pulse beat with my own. I was one with the island, the true Queen of Isles, and I felt content. I was right where I belonged.
As I stood there soaking in the magic, I noticed the nuances I’d missed before: the thud of footsteps on the shore, the beat of Millie’s heart across the balcony, the hush of forest creatures awakening to the light as the ley lines glowed with power.