Chapter 27
On tiptoes, I snuck through the halls—stealing glances at my classmates as if I could somehow suss out who was magically inclined like myself—then across the well-manicured lawn at the garden’s edge, and into the shadow of the towering redwoods.
I’d slept soundly enough the night before, given the amount of new information reeling through my head courtesy of Celine, but hadn’t seen Leeran.
Again. Though, a part of me believed that to be a good thing.
While I didn’t think he was lying, the way Celine’s words had clicked the day before and the sheer familiarity in her presence—it was all too much.
I needed a break, a chance to sit at the river’s edge, read Fiorenza’s journal uninterrupted, and relax.
The path through the leafy giants above spoke straight to my soul; drenched in forest noise and wildlife, it sang.
Similar to the way my Tinctured magic had leapt with excitement when Celine had lit the sage below my talisman, my Elemental magic purred, pleased by the call to nature all around me.
The tomes hidden beneath my arm jittered in response: Aislyn’s grimoire.
Fiorenza’s journal. But both … mine. It felt right. Intended.
My boots skid to a stop on the rocky path, the forest breeze alive with the scent of incoming rain.
I closed my eyes and spoke to the elements inside me, Lead me where you will.
My magic—both light and grounded, Celine had explained—called back, As you’d have it.
The convergence spell had brought clarity and insight.
I could see it clearly now: where one affinity inside me ended and the other began.
Could hear and sense their differences as if they were two children, loved equally, yet entirely unique.
The path ahead hooked right and aimed downward through low-hanging branches.
The elements called, like to like—water was ahead.
The river. I braced myself, careful to take the descent nice and slow as rushing waters pricked my ears, and I couldn’t contain my smile.
While I’d always enjoyed being in nature, it held new promise now, like I could do anything in the shelter of those ancient trees.
My last step missed its mark, sending me running down the steep incline toward the shoreline, butterflies twisting in my stomach.
I screamed, hands flung out before me to break my inevitable fall.
But balance proved to be on my side, and I skidded to a stop at the water’s edge, looking over my newfound oasis in wonder.
An inlet off the river’s otherwise whitewater rapids held this reverence I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but if I had to try, I’d say it was how I pictured enlightenment might feel.
Closed off from the surrounding woods, the quaint cove soothed every frazzled nerve.
I shifted my backpack from my shoulders, unzipped the overstuffed pouch, and pulled out my black plaid blanket, spreading it across the shore.
Then my thermos, filled to the brim with jasmine tea, courtesy of Sue.
Third, a palo santo stick I’d found tucked away in Fhírinne’s herb desk.
And lastly, a throw pillow I may or may not have borrowed from the library without permission.
With my sacred space put together, I climbed onto the blanket, tossed my boots and socks to the side, and buried my bare feet in the moist dirt.
Energy swam through me. Life, love, peace, inspiration—all were written in the earth, begging for someone, anyone to coax them out. To set them free into the world.
With a little help from Aislyn’s grimoire, I aimed to do just that.
The old paper brushed against my fingertips as I flipped the first page open. An introduction, written in another language altogether, but I knew it. Gaelic. As if rearranged by, well, magic, the letters took on a more familiar shape.
A Collection of Magic: Aislyn ó Cuinn
My fingers twiddled with anticipation. This newfound wealth of knowledge had the ability to answer all my questions and more.
If it weren’t for Celine’s insistence, I’d have never found the grimoire, the journals, or Fhírinne.
And while I had questioned her motives up until she pulled my burning body from that classroom, I no longer doubted her loyalty to the extent I had before.
When she’d spoken her warning about those who aimed to deceive me—her voice trembling with concern—it’d forced me to consider things.
Leeran specifically. It still didn’t make sense though.
Why would he have saved me time and time again if he meant me harm?
But few things made sense, aside from one: magic.
I possessed it. Or rather, it possessed me.
And I would take solace in that truth for the time being.
I flipped the page and my breath caught.
Two sets of sketched eyes, true to size, glanced back at me.
I marveled at the attention to detail, the connection to art prominent in my first life to now unmissable.
My babies. In perfectly imperfect penmanship, they’d each signed their names below their depictions.
I traced my finger over their indented signatures with a grin.
Even now, after all this time, they were still a part of me.
Ingrained in my very being. My breath returned, moving in time now with the wind swirling around me, that comfort urging me on.
I looked over the next page. A table of contents was listed and divided below two definitions. The first:
Elemental (Neutral) Magic: Grounded magic (Earth; derived from the mortal realm), born of nature, physical. Crystal association and talisman recommendation: Tourmaline—considered a physical bridge to the spiritual, repels and blocks negative energies.
? Air—Wind, Energetic Transfer, Heightened Hearing
? Water—Cleansing, Energetic Replenishment, Fluidity
? Earth—Excavation, Energetic Grounding, Strength
? Fire—Release, Energetic Fuel, Passion
My mind danced along the memory of Cillian’s constellation show, how he’d clung to his talisman like it was his lifeline.
Now that I’d not only felt the chaos magic could bring, but also the balance a talisman could grant, I understood.
It was his lifeline as my moonstone had become mine.
A knot settled in my stomach. I’d been so angry with Cillian, blamed him for being flaky and inconsistent, but in all reality …
he’d been there. That first night in the library he’d given me tea, and the night my palms were burnt beyond repair—my fingers pushed my pendant up and down its silver chain. He’d been there too.
But Leeran had saved my life in the Shroud. I grumbled and threw my head back, gazing at the cloudy sky. How did all these people, these pieces, these lives I’d lived fit together? The fact I’d been lied to wasn’t the question anymore, but rather who had done the lying.
Foighne, I reminded myself—patience.
I turned my attention back to the page at hand, focused on what I already knew. What I could learn to control.
Tinctured (Energetic) Magic: Enlightened magic (Spiritual, born of the realm of Elysium), perpetuated by one’s own aura. Crystal association and recommended talisman: Moonstone—diffuses energy throughout the aura, provides psychic protection, and aids in lucid dreaming.
? Aura—Reading, Cleansing, Deciphering
? Spirit—Restoring, Healing, Projecting
? Intuition—Insights, Clairvoyance, Psychic Realization
? Protection—Barriers, Malicious Expulsions, Blessings
The last line caught my eye. Protection … Without pause, I flipped until I found the page with a matching header, my eyes fluttering across the words until I came to the subsection on blessings.
Ingredients: Talisman, Purifying Substance (Salt, Palo Santo Wood, or Sage), personal object belonging to the one who seeks to be blessed.
Talisman? Check. Palo santo? A chuckle slipped past my lips. Also check. Somehow, I’d known I’d need that little piece of purifying wood before I left, but I hadn’t been able to figure out why. Now it was clear: intuition.
But an item to be blessed? I looked around, unsure what to use, inevitably settling on the plain silver band around my right pointer finger.
I’d found it years ago in a jewelry store I’d visited with one of my foster parents before Glenda and Jack had taken me in.
While the Wilson family hadn’t been the kindest to me by any means, I think Mrs. Wilson meant well.
She’d bought the ring as a peace offering after a hectic day, and I hadn’t taken it off since.
Why, I’d never really considered, but it’d serve a greater purpose now.
Step 1: Crush purifying materials to a coarse powder.
Simple enough. After a quick glance at my sides, I found two smooth rocks and placed them in my lap. I did as the directions said, grinding against the wooden stick until I had a decent-sized pile to utilize.
Step 2: Place crushed materials atop the item you wish to bless.
Ring in my palm, I filled its hollow center to the brim with the crushed wood.
Step 3: In full agreement with the laws of Fate herself to live in love and light, take hold of your talisman and repeat this phrase thrice: Blessed is, blessed was, blessed be.
Nervous energy settled in my gut, melding into a mix of excitement and anticipation. With a few steadying breaths, I found my center and spoke the words aloud. “Blessed is, blessed was, blessed be.”
I repeated it twice more, and I waited. But … nothing happened. No eruption of flame or rushing wind, just nothing.
“Damn it.” Who are you kidding, of course it didn’t work. I’d known about magic for weeks at best, had possessed my newfound affinity for days, and I thought my first attempt at a spell would work? Talk about delusional.
I blew the wooden shavings from my palm, replaced the ring on my finger, and leaned back on my pillow to stare up at branches swaying overhead. It was fine. I could be patient. Hell, I had to be. Gears switched, I whipped Fiorenza’s journal out and turned to the entry I’d left off on.
October 19, 1915
I have fallen in love, wholly, completely, and inconsolably, as I believe the Old Gods hoped for humanity.
To say love at first sight exists might be a mere fairy tale to some, but I know of its existence as I myself have succumbed to it.
What started out like any usual day turned about in the light of his emerald eyes, his cheeky smile, his wit.
To think of the demons I witnessed upon last night’s sleep, I fear I would have fallen apart were it not for this divine meeting.
One word, and my heart was taken. One word, and my nightmares fluttered away in the wind.
“Ciao.” My knees went weak, turned to jelly.
We spent the afternoon together, captivated and never shying from one another’s curiosities.
An Irishman brought to Naples in pursuit of what pieces of his shattered family remains, he is more than a survivor of loss.
He’s an overcomer. I hadn’t the heart to press him further about what had happened to his loved ones.
It is not my place. But, in those few short hours we spent together, I knew all at once I wanted to be there to support his search.
To help him find the answers he seeks. Gia says my infatuation will be my undoing.
I say, so be it. For Cillian O’Connell I’ll be undone.
I sat up straight, re-reading the last sentence over again.
You’ve got to be shitting me … Cillian, clear as day, right there, written in old ink.
Neither Margaret’s or Yelena’s journals had even hinted at a romantic interest, only nightmares and madness.
This? This was new: a level deeper than I’d anticipated going and entirely more frustrating than it was helpful.
Could it be a manipulation? A name planted in the journal to push me into his arms as Leeran had said Cillian had planned all along?
Or was this something more? Something … true?
I devoured the entries with ravaged hunger.
With each new meeting Fiorenza grew fonder as her best friend Gianna grew more concerned and distant.
But love had seized Fiorenza—me technically—and she saw nothing else.
Starlit nights, elemental water displays on the beach, moonlit kisses—it was like something straight out of a romance novel.
As much as I wanted to be unaffected, to laugh at the ridiculous sappiness of it all, I didn’t.
Instead, I found myself entranced. The closer they got and the more time they spent together, the more Fiorenza’s mentions of her own awakening magic appeared.
Her descriptions of her nightmares and the beasts therein—which I knew now to be the Ancient Lores—became almost nonexistent.
The days I see him, I sleep undisturbed and peaceful.
No fear, but blissful rest, she’d even said at one point.
I thought back to my own run-ins with Cillian and sure enough, the puzzle pieces clicked together.
The days I saw him, be it even a quick glance in the hall or a full-on interaction, I didn’t dream. The days I went without? Nightmares …
From there, my hunt for answers grew fierce and desperate. Among the songs of the forest—the singing birds, the rushing wind through the treetops, the river’s flow—I blew through each page. Unbeknownst to me, my body began to relax.
My eyelids grew heavy …