35 - Iona #2
Hecate looks away, and nothing could have prepared me for the singular dread that befalls me at witnessing a Goddess betray true fear in their countenance, for what could possibly frighten her that would not be a reckoning for me and mine?
“Your friend speaks true,” Hecate says softly. “A witch, malefician or otherwise, could not interfere with a blood bond. Only a God could perform such a feat.”
Hecate meets my gaze again and wordlessly we come to the same conclusion. Not an illusion, but another Goddess using Hecate’s name and likeness.
“Please,” I beg. “I cannot live without her.”
Hecate beckons me closer and eagerly I approach, putting my hands in hers, immediately sensing the power locked within her grip.
“Can you find her?” I ask.
“You can,” Hecate says, a cabinet appearing beside her, and from it she takes a bottle of purple oil and unstoppers it.
I close my eyes when Hecate draws a line of oil across my forehead, the concoction smelling distinctly of mint. I recoil unconsciously, reminded of Xiomara doing the same, and what it had cost me to trust her, but I would give anything to find Ariadne. I cannot wait anymore.
When I open my eyes, a small wooden table stands between Hecate and I, upon which sits a circular mirror of black stone. I recognize it as obsidian, the same material as Ariadne’s wand.
“What is it?” I ask.
“A scrying mirror,” Hecate says. “I may be able to connect you to your beloved, so you might hear her and see through her eyes. She may even be able to hear you, too, in which case you must both determine where she is so you may rescue her.”
I nod in acknowledgment, my vision blurring as I peer into the mirror, unable to look away.
“Think of her. Reach out to her,” Hecate says, “and pray that she is doing the same.”
I center myself, thinking only of Ariadne’s laugh, her smile, her eyes that hold so many regrets and longings, her hands that hold the diametric potential to be gentle or brutal, and her mind, which is at once a familiar haven and an indecipherable mystery.
“Invenio,” Hecate incants, and I cry out as magic, potent and pure, burns my hands as it seeps from Hecate into me, calling upon Ariadne’s blood saturated with mine, until my vision goes black.
At first, I wonder if I may have fainted, but my consciousness persists. It takes a moment more for me to realize I’m seeing what Ariadne can, which is nothing at all.
Ari?
There is no response, but I can perceive the light brush of wind against her arms and legs, the smell of the ocean on the breeze, the hard surface of rock beneath her, and the cold metal of chains cutting into the skin of her wrists and ankles.
Then her emotions become clearer to me, a mixture of bitter resentment and fear. I frown, unsure where her animosity comes from, until I look into her mind and see her recollection of Rebekka kissing me, and Ariadne’s eventual assumption that her eyes did not deceive her.
And it’s as if a flood of repressed enmity forces its way through to the forefront of my mind, and though I know there’s limited time, I let loose only a fraction of my indignation.
You should have known I would never betray you ! I feel her tense at my words. You are more a fool in love than you ever were in hatred. I mean, honestly. What is wrong with you?
Iona? Ariadne calls back.
It takes considerable effort to transmit every syllable, different from the effortlessness of our usual bond, but my outrage compensates for half the exertion.
How many countless times must I tell you of my absolute disinterest in Rebekka?
If you had bothered to confront me before prematurely casting me out of your heart, you would have seen-
No… Ariadne’s remorse is immediate when she peers into my mind in turn and sees the full account of my unwanted kiss from Rebekka, my horror when her true identity had been revealed, and the many scars riddling Rebekka’s arms and neck, indicating just how long the ruse has lasted.
Utter, inexpiable fool ! You feather-headed, miserable excuse for a-
I didn’t know , Ariadne tries to interject, but she winces at my unbridled anger.
Your doubt in me has been made abundantly clear , I seethe. And how precisely has that served you?
I take shameless pleasure from her mortification and the heat that fills her cheeks from her embarrassment. I let her stew in it for a moment or two.
Where are you? I finally ask, but I am met with silence. Where, Ariadne?! Tell me before-
It’s too late , Ariadne relents.
No, I can find you and-
Everything has changed now.
Why? What’s happened? I ask.
Ariadne makes an impressive effort to try and hide her thoughts, but by now I’m beyond politeness or restraint. I delve into the darkest recesses of her consciousness until I find what it is she’s attempting to hide, and I gasp, unable to believe what I’ve seen.
What have you done?
“Ariadne?”
We both tense at the sound of Xiomara’s voice, and all it implies of her involvement in this plot against us. A part of me had hoped beyond reason that she of all of them was ignorant as we were, but it is not so. Ariadne tries to respond, but to her horror, her voice does not obey her.
“Do not try to speak, dearest,” Xiomara says, her voice closer now.
Bucking and writhing against the chains, Ariadne tries to break free, but it only causes her pain.
“Now, now, none of that.” Xiomara places a hand upon Ariadne’s shoulder and in an instant, her muscles go slack as paralysis takes hold. “There. All better.”
Don’t panic , I say, panicking. We must determine where you are-
How? Ariadne asks. I cannot see! I cannot move!
You must convince her to… Or perhaps she might let slip-
They mean to kill me. Ariadne begins to weep silently.
No. I try to send her calming thoughts. I won’t allow it, I-
“I thought it only fair to explain our position to you,” Xiomara says. “They all think me mad for it, but… consider this the last vestige of decency in me. After all, you were my niece, in a way.”
There’s a shuffling of feet and fabric as Xiomara comes to sit beside Ariadne on the slab of rock she’s chained to.
“What a mess,” Xiomara sighs. “It will all be over soon, at long last, but that is little comfort to either of us now. I suppose… I’ll start at the beginning, shall I?
With Mother. She inherited a coven that had fallen from grace, when new empires rose to prominence, but she would not accept less than the life her name promised.
She studied and trained, became the very best of witches in her generation, and claimed Morgan’s pendant as her own, but that was only the beginning.
She strived for more and went in search of it.
Many Gods have withdrawn from our world in favor of others, and their reasons are their own.
I shan’t speculate on them… Regardless, we now find ourselves incredibly alone.
I’m sure you’ve felt that loneliness, the silence, when Hecate ignored your pleas to intervene on your behalf.
All your prayers were left unanswered, as was the case for our recent ancestors.
I know not when or why the connection with Hecate was severed, only that our family chose not to disclose the separation and risk losing the distinguished status of our coven, which proved convenient for Mother.
She sought enlightenment and found a new Goddess, our savior.
Guided by Her hand, Mother learned the true potential of maleficium, honed and mastered it, so the magic would not surmount her, poison her, as it does the others.
She became the first of her kind, a malefician unhindered by madness, her mind clear, her vision pure.
But of course, there are still those who fear maleficians, who would kill us on sight.
Mother knew there was no hope of convincing all the covens of her superiority over other lesser maleficians.
Those primitive hags who bathe in blood and cast their crude hexes in the cover of night were a scourge upon our world, one that meant little to our mother, but she could see it would not do to let them wreak havoc at her detriment.
Instead, she exterminated them one by one, leeching away their magic, and in so doing rid the world of any who would challenge us.
All the while, our Goddess showed Mother the secrets of the universe, of fate and time. Despite Mother’s enlightenment, Arachne proved a constant nuisance, always preventing Mother’s greatest plans from coming to fruition. The spider’s supposed ‘interpretation’ of fate was never in our favor.
Every step forward was followed by another setback, another disappointment, an eternal struggle, but whenever Mother used her power to cut down another malefician, Arachne never saw fit to intervene.
It suited her well enough for innocents to be spared, and it suited Mother for the covens to believe the lie, that she vanquished evil out of charity, not survival.
She used the pendant as a medal of honor to credit her, should any doubts arise as to her character.
Morgan was none the wiser, dead and oblivious, though near the end I wondered if she might have suspected…
In any case, there was nothing she could do to us from beyond the grave.
All was well until an unexpected peace took hold, an unintentional byproduct of Mother’s intervention, which also meant there was no maleficium left to pillage.
By then, Zephyra, Cintia, and I were coming of age.
We knew Mother’s secret and practiced maleficium by her side, but she could see the world we would inherit, the obstacles we would face.
Our Goddess had become exceedingly fond of Mother and did not wish for Death to take her.
Even with maleficium, and the pendant’s magic, she could not delay the inevitable forever, and though our Goddess has a fearsome, spectacular might, she regrettably does not possess the ability to create immortals.