6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Greya
The candle on the table burned low, dripping into the nearly full wax pan.
Greya’s eyes were starting to blur as she sorted through more of Heran’s journals and record books.
She’d been methodically going through them over the last few weeks since the old matriarch had passed—making sure she was up to date on any of Heran’s outstanding trades with the surrounding villages and catching up on all the Coven history and knowledge that had been recorded in the matriarch’s journals.
Not to mention giving away her clothes, her furniture, and in general dealing with all the tedium that was inextricable from the grief of loss.
The Coven had naturally been shocked and saddened to hear of Heran’s passing—ostensibly occurring in her sleep. But the reality of it—the truth that they didn’t know—ate at Greya.
Because instead of passing peacefully in her sleep, her mentor—her caretaker, her matriarch—had died confused and afraid in the middle of the Sacred Grove, terrified by the daemons that had descended upon her Coven.
Of course, there was much Heran hadn’t understood—or maybe hadn’t wanted to understand—but still…it didn’t erase the fact that her death had not been a peaceful one. It had been shocking and traumatic, and Greya still heard Heran’s final words echoing in her head almost daily.
His Power destroys.
Greya didn’t regret her part in the breaking of the bond, despite the guilt that dogged her.
She Knew what she, Ena, and the other witches had done was the right thing for everyone—that it was what Gaia demanded.
But getting the rest of her Coven to understand that…
well, that was her challenge. She was not sure how they would receive the information, even if it came from her, their soon-to-be matriarch.
And, if she were being honest, sometimes, given her part in it all and the secrets she kept, she questioned if she was worthy of the role. She had broken their trust when she had gone rogue to help Ena and the daemons. Her actions, justified or not, had led to Heran’s unexpected death.
But truthfully, the Coven had no one else.
No one else who’d been trained to understand all the intricacies of the surrounding villages and the goods and services they could provide.
No one else held the trust and faith of the witches of the Auster Coven—deserved or not—in this tumultuous time.
So it was up to her, and she would do her best to lead them.
And tonight, after her Ascension, she would lead them in an entirely new direction. But as right as it felt to begin to reveal the history that had been kept from them, her stomach still tightened with nerves at the prospect, and she quietly felt like she might throw up.
Refocusing her eyes on the document in front of her, she noted that there was an outstanding agreement with Northumbra to provide twelve vials of bone-stitching potion in exchange for this spring’s harvest of carrots and two pigs.
She made a mental note to follow up on the crop’s status now that it was nearly Imbolc, halfway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox, and Beltane would be coming up swiftly in the Turning.
Greya shut her eyes and rubbed the space between them, soothing the headache that was forming there.
She hadn’t even touched the other matriarchs’ journals—the ones who had served before Heran.
Only a few of those had survived the house fire, but she supposed, somewhere in them, was a record of the amulet and the binding spell.
She’d have to add going through those to her long list of things to do, just to make sure there were no other big revelations that had been kept from her her entire life.
The door creaked open as light filtered into the altar room, and Perse strode in.
“Hello, love,” he said, his smiling face greeting her as he shut the door behind him. “Still working?”
“Yes,” Greya sighed. “There’s still so much to do.”
“I know, but not all potions can be brewed in a fortnight, you know,” he said, giving her a playful look. “Why don’t you take a break? Thyla’s here to talk to you about the ceremony.”
“Oh?” Greya said, her stomach a knot of anticipation at the mention of it.
“Come on, love,” Perse insisted, coming around the table to push her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “We’ll get you something to eat too, shall we?”
Perse guided her to standing, and she acquiesced. Her stomach had been rumbling for the last hour but she’d been ignoring it, powering through “one more entry” after another.
Greya’s eyes squinted, adjusting to the daylight coming through the windows, as they left the altar room and made their way towards the kitchen.
Thyla sat at the expansive wooden table, nibbling on one of Greya’s infamous biscuits, but she looked up when the two of them entered the room, her bright red hair catching the sunlight.
“There you are,” she greeted. “The soon-to-be matriarch of the Auster Coven!” Thyla smiled widely, her excitement so palpable, Greya couldn’t help but smile in return.
“That’s me,” she said, giving a watery smile as that ball of nerves in her stomach tightened further.
She was excited and honored to become the matriarch, of course.
But that didn’t mean the responsibility of it all didn’t weigh on her, especially since there was so much Thyla and the other witches didn’t yet know.
“I’ve got everyone notified of the ceremony timing tonight, and all the preparations in order. I thought you might like help preparing your ceremonial bath,” Thyla offered.
As was customary before all significant rituals where one stood before the Coven and Gaia, Greya would be taking a warm bath prepared with marjoram, cedar berries, and lemongrass, to cleanse and purify her body for the Ascension.
“Thanks, Thyla, that’d be great,” Greya answered warmly, but something in her heart turned cold as the mention of the bath made her think of Ena.
Last time, it was she who had prepared a cleansing bath for Ena before her Summoning.
Her mind turned to her sister now, and she sent a silent prayer to Gaia that she and her unborn baby were safe, wherever they were.
“Of course! I’ll start gathering the herbs and heating the water,” Thyla said, before flitting off to fetch water from the cistern outside.
Greya looked up to find Perse’s hazel gaze tracking her.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing, my love. Just making sure you’re alright,” he said in that kindly, calm way of his.
Greya sighed. There was no use hiding her feelings from Perse. He already knew everything anyway.
“I’m alright, just a bit…nervous. I haven’t exactly figured out what I’m going to say to them all tonight,” she said, smoothing her dress in front of her.
“Gaia will show you your path. Have faith in her. And yourself,” Perse said. “You are the matriarch we need, Greya. I Know this to be true.”
Greya smiled up at her husband, before reaching out to squeeze his hand in thanks. “I better go get ready then,” she said.
“Yes, off you go. I’ve got to get back to composing your song, anyway.”
“You’re writing me a song?” she asked, her eyes lighting up.
“All my songs are for you, but this one in particular, yes,” Perse said, bending down to kiss her on the forehead.
Greya’s heart warmed in that special way only Perse could elicit in her. His Gift of sonia made him a talented musician, among other things, and she truly couldn’t wait to see what musical composition he’d come up with this time.
“I’ll see you in the Grove, then,” she said, feeling more confident, knowing he had her back.
“See you in the Grove.”
***
Greya stood in the center of the Sacred Grove, the witches of the Auster Coven surrounding her on all sides. The bonfire burned behind her, sparks crackling into the cold, clear night, illuminating the ring of age-old trees that encircled them.
The group was silent, waiting for the ritual to begin.
Unlike during Summoning ceremonies, all members of the Coven were invited to the Ascension, including children, since it affected everyone.
The communal trust placed on the Coven matriarch—the right to negotiate and make decisions on the Coven’s behalf—was only granted based on consensus, so everyone came, and everyone witnessed.
Once she was certain the entire Coven had arrived, all thirty-four members, she looked to her right to where Thyla stood in the circle, holding the gold ceremonial chalice decorated with Gaia’s symbol, and a green-tinted bottle of deep, red wine, and nodded.
It was time to begin.
Greya had never attended an Ascension. Heran had already Ascended by the time she’d been born, but she’d read about them thoroughly in the years since her own Summoning, when she had been selected as Heran’s apprentice, so she knew what to expect.
Thyla poured the wine into the chalice, filling it three-quarters full. Then, out of her pocket she pulled a bundle of dried herbs, and reverently sprinkled a tiny pinch of them into the chalice, as she spoke:
{Fides}
Greya could smell the herbs on the air—basil, fennel, and…yarrow, maybe?
Herbs for protection and healing.
Then Thyla passed the chalice to her right, to where her father Jon stood next to her. He, too, sprinkled a pinch of herbs into the chalice—bay leaf for wisdom—and spoke the same spellword.
{Fides}
All members of the Coven passed the chalice around, adding their herbs—chosen specifically to symbolize whatever their hope for Greya, and for the Coven, was, be it protection, wisdom, healing, abundance, etc.—and spoke the spellword.
By the time the chalice made it all the way around, the children in the group had begun to get bored. Parents and friends attempted to wrangle them, keeping them from running away to play, and Greya suppressed a small smile at the sight.
Her Coven, her friends…they were all here for her. Placing their faith in her, their trust that she would guide them to follow Gaia’s path.