Chapter 30
Thirty
Samaria
“You couldn’t help yourself, could you?” I apply a bit more of the salve that Tallulah made onto Jarek’s cheekbone and across his nose. He has a split down his lip, but with the yarrow paste, it’s already beginning to heal.
“He needed an outlet.” Jarek shrugs, but there’s a million more questions dancing in his eyes. “You need one too.” He attempts to wink, but with his swollen eye, it looks more like a bug has flown into it.
Laughing, I place the cream onto the small bedside table. “Now? Really?”
Jarek laughs then groans as he coddles his bruised stomach.
“Nothing stops you does it?”
“Nothing,” he says through another chuckle. He readjusts, moving onto his side and gestures for me to join him. “Since we can’t do that , keep me company instead? Talk to me.”
“About which thing?” I hesitate. We haven’t talked about him leaving or what that means for us, and every time I look at him it’s a reminder. A reminder that he’ll be gone and I’ll be here.
“Sorin, Galen,” Jarek says. “Us.” He reaches for my hand, but I move it to my lap. “Take your pick.”
“No, I don’t want to discuss any of that.” For so long I’ve been the bright and cheery Samaria. Keeping her anxious thoughts and worries locked tightly in a box so as to not burden others with it. I’ve always been better at delving out advice than I have been taking it and so, no. I don’t want to talk to Jarek about any of it. “I need to meet with Elora soon. She thinks she’s ready for the Ceremony.”
Jarek’s non-swollen eye goes wide, but when he goes to sit up, he winces.
“Rest, you silly man.” I lean over and kiss him lightly on the forehead. “The next time I see you, perhaps I’ll be a changed woman.”
“I hope that’s not true.” Jarek says behind me. “I love you just the way you are, Sam.”
My throat constricts and as much as I want to, I say nothing as I leave the room.
Elora, Agnes, and Tallulah are all waiting for me in the greenhouse. My stomach flips and hands refuse to steady as I sit down at the small, wooden table.
“Are you sure the hunters won’t sense us?” Tallulah looks nervous but she busies herself with a few rose bushes needing pruning.
“No.” Elora shrugs, as if the thought of hunters no longer terrifies her. “There’s a good chance they will. But the first wave of people have already left, and seeing as how we’re the next group to go, it’s now or never.” She glances at me, and I nod my approval.
“We have men stationed around the Guild,” Agnes says, her hands clasping the tops of my shoulders. “The wolves are with them and they’re in constant communication with Elora.” She squeezes my shoulders and bends so her lips are closer to my ear. “It’s time, Samaria.”
I take a steadying breath. “Let’s do it then.”
Agnes hands Elora the small pack that contains the Stones. As Elora opens the bag, a glimmer of gold light spirals out, cascading up her arms and what appears to be through her body. She gasps but the line between her brows softens as she picks up the first stone.
The dark red stone glows as she places it before me.
“Fire,” she says.
The next, white. Its crystal hue shimmers against the gray light of the room.
“Air.”
A blue stone is placed in line, smaller than the others. The gold that shimmers around it makes my stomach clench.
Puffing my cheeks, I let out a long breath.
This is really happening.
“Water.”
She pulls the last stone; a pale, shimmering green. She holds it longer than the others, closing her eyes and tilting her head. As if it’s speaking to her. Smiling, she places the fourth Awakening Stone before me.
“Earth.”
Agnes keeps her hands on my shoulders, and I realize now Tallulah is also close by, her hand resting on my forearm. Elora kneels before me. “Are you ready, Sam?”
“What if she doesn’t answer?” My voice comes out pinched and tight. Like I’ve just gotten in trouble and I’m working my way around a lie.
Elora frowns, her mouth dropping open.
“There has been so much pain the last few years,” I say, my bottom lip trembling. “What if the Mother doesn’t answer?”
Elora smiles and grasps my hands. “She’s never failed us before. You have to believe.”
Her hand slips from mine, and the three of them take hands and form a circle around me and the Stones.
“Place your hands upon the Stones,” Agnes says.
I glance to Elora for approval. She nods, so I place my hands on top of the Stones. At first they don’t seem any different than when I briefly examined them back in Wickersham. But the longer my hands are on them, the more I realize how peculiar they truly are. They’re not just warm to the touch, but they seem to be radiating from within. My fingertips buzz as I trace each Stone, their static energy traveling up my arms.
“This is my first Ceremony,” Elora says, her cheeks flushing, bringing out the freckles across her nose. “But with Agnes and Tallulah’s help, I think we’re ready.”
She takes a large breath, before she begins the Enchantress prayer. “We call upon you, our Mother Gaia, who has given us all. Provided life and magick and healing. To our ever-fruitful country of Teravie.” Elora’s breath hitches, and I know she’s thinking the same thing I am. The blight and the injustices making it less than fruitful the last few years.
“We thank you and we honor you. May our gifts be a reflection of your power. May our kindness be an ode to your heart. May our lives be a dedication to your sacrifice and all you have given to Teravie.”
Chills rake up and down my arms and my fingers begin to tremble.
“Grab the Stones, Sam.”
I listen to Elora and pick up the Stones, palming two in each hand.
“Samaria Trednik sits before you, an Enchantress of the rightful age, ready to be guided into her magick. Ready to do her part in protecting this country, just as King Bastian and Queen Soleil intended.”
My stomach somersaults at the mention of the first king and queen. It was their deal that brought magick to us. It was them who made all of this possible.
“Bless her Mother Gaia with the magick of your choosing just as you have with every Enchantress before her and every Enchantress after.”
Several tense moments pass by, and nothing happens. Nothing but the buzzing from the Stones in my palms and the breathing of the women around me. My heart sinks, the fear I’ve held for so long begins to come true.
I’m too late.
Before I can think another thought, blinding light encompasses my hands, bursting from within my grip, seeping through the cracks between my fingers. I close my eyes and remain as still as possible, though my body immediately goes into flight, my legs twitching to run away.
I pop my eyes open as static energy travels up my arms. It’s the same white light, moving and swirling around me. It’s both hot and cold all at once. When the light reaches my lips, out of instinct, I open my mouth and close my eyes again. Otherworldly energy fills my heart and lungs and I try to gasp for air but there’s no air to be had.
All time is lost.
I’m floating in an in-between realm where it is both light and dark, cold and hot, soft and hard. I see myself in the greenhouse. Tallulah, Agnes, and Elora still gathered around. I open my mouth to scream but all that filters out is more and more of that bright light.
As quick as it arrived, the light snuffs out. Snapping my mouth shut, I drop the Stones onto the table while taking several gulps of much needed air. The women around me begin to chatter but their words are lost on me. Nothing but buzzing and wind flows between my ears. My vision blurs, and when I begin to stand, I’m met with weak knees.
“Sit, Sam,” Elora says. “Give it a minute.”
I’ve waited over thirty years for this moment. Thirty years for this magick that’s been clawing at my skin since I was born, and when it doesn’t show itself right away, every doubtful thought I’ve had comes crashing into me. That I have waited too long for my Ceremony. That I have been deemed unworthy of magick.
I want to cry.
Scream.
Be angry.
But before I can do any of those things, I feel it.
Like a warm breeze, tickling along my skin in the Summer, it flows through my hands, down to my feet. My mouth drops open as I flex my fingers, tears wetting my cheeks.
“Sam,” Tallulah says. She kneels beside me and takes my hand into her own. “Are you all right?”
I glance up at my mother, who wears the same etch of worry between her brows as Tallulah. “I don’t feel any different.”
“It takes time,” Tallulah says as she stands. She squeezes my shoulders and it’s only when she steps out of the way do I notice something moving out of the corner of my eye.
At first, I question myself. But as I stare at the space for a moment longer, a figure steps into view and there isn’t any doubt at who is staring back at me.
He isn’t as he once was. His eyes are not as bright. His dark hair more muted and dull. But as he smiles at me, I’m certain and it’s the strength of my certainty that makes my voice break.
“Father?” I stand and push past the three very confused women around me. “Father,” I say, this time not a question. The figure nods and waves me over. My cheeks are cold from my earlier tears and they sting as fresh, hot tears begin to fall. I reach the figure that appears to be my father and a whirlwind of emotions hits me all at once.
Joy and relief and grief and fear.
Reaching my hand out, I attempt to grasp his, but it goes right through him and lands in a rose bush on the other side. His body shakes, his grin splitting.
He’s laughing.
My smile broadens as well, and when he places his fist to his chest and bows, I choke on a sob. My throat constricts, and as much as I want to ask the million questions running through my mind, I’m unable. As I bring my hands to my mouth, my palms sting. That itching, fiery sensation erupting over every surface.
Magick.
Taking a steadying breath, I focus on the apparition of my father before me, ignoring Agnes, Elora, and Tallulah who have now joined my sides.
I hold out my palms and flick my wrists upward and there it is. My vision wanes but only for a moment before the figure before me sharpens. His face, no longer muddied. His smile is radiant, splitting across his aged but handsome face. My fingers tremble with the weight of my magick, but my heart thumps with adrenaline.
The bridge between the living world and the next lies within my grasp.
“How is it that I can see you?”
I steady my hands in the air as my father smiles again, his round cheeks amplified. He reaches out and brushes his knuckles softly against my cheek.
“Because you, Sammy, are a Spiritwalker.”
Magick thrums in my chest at his words, a deep pulsing rhythm that is so new and yet, it brings me so much comfort. This missing piece, just as Tallulah said, finally finding its place within me.
“I don’t have much time, Sammy, the veil is thin for us without magick in our veins. I’ve waited so long for this. So long to speak with you one last time.” His face flickers, as if he’s made of dust and wind and my heart races.
“Don’t go yet, please. Stay.” I reach my hand out again, and his fingers thread around mine. So real and tangible. So firm and steady.
This is dangerous , I think. How easily I could lose myself in this moment. This magick that allows my father to be here. To hold my hand and wipe my tears.
“I love you, Sammy.” Another tear slips down my cheek. “It’s time for me to rest now. Tell your mum and your brother. Tell them that I love them too.”
“I will, I’ll tell them.”
His fingers squeeze around mine one last time, and when I blink again, he’s gone. I suck in a sharp breath at the empty space before me. Throat burning, I clasp my hands to my chest.
Elora places her hand on my shoulder. “Sam?”
Reluctantly, I turn. Elora and Tallulah share a puzzled look with each other.
My mother steps forward and grasps me in a tight hug. “Samaria Trednik,” she whispers against my hair. “Tell me what I believe to be true, you’re a Spiritwalker?” She giggles, swaying my body against hers in a dance-like hug.
Tallulah gasps, covering her mouth with her hands.
Agnes pulls away from me but keeps her arm around my shoulder. Her smile is bright and beaming. The most proud I’ve ever seen her. It stings. Seeing how proud she is at this moment and not for any of the other achievements in my life.
“I think I might be,” I admit. My mind is still cloudy, replaying the image of my father’s face. The feel of his hands on mine.
“A Spiritwalker?” Elora crosses her arms. “What does that mean?”
“She can communicate with the spirits who have not yet passed on to join Mother Gaia on the other side,” Agnes says. She claps her hands and my stomach turns. “My daughter, a Spiritwalker!”
“Your eyes turned white,” Elora says. “Like Agnes’ and my mother’s. I thought you may be a Seer.”
I shake my head, fighting to hide the tremble in my lip. “This was certainly not…” I bite my lip.
“Did you see someone, then?” Tallulah asks, drawing me from my wandering thoughts.
Clearing my throat, I take my mother’s hand. “It was my father, William.” Agnes’ smile falters for a moment but it quickly returns.
“He said to tell you he loves you,” I say, and she grips my hand. I wish she wouldn’t, because it reminds me of his, and I want so badly to open that portal again. To risk the hunters.
Instead, I turn to Elora. “He wanted to make sure Sorin knew as well. That he loves him.”
Elora smiles, but there’s uncertainty in it as her gaze drifts between Agnes and I. As if she can read my frustrations with my mother. I suppose she probably can read my emotions. Even having known each other for such a short time, we’ve seen each other at our deepest levels. I want to ask more about being a Spiritwalker but my question lodges in my throat as another apparition appears directly behind Elora.
Her skin, unlike my father's, is glowing. While his was more gray and nearly transparent, this woman’s is ivory and glowing. As if she is made of the purest crystal. Her face doesn’t waver as my father’s did. Her long, dark hair pools down her back and she looks strong. Solid. And then I remember my father’s words.
The veil is thin for us without magick in our veins.
She must be an Enchantress. She must be…
“Sam?” Elora cocks her head to the side, and when I meet her with widened eyes, her brows relax and her face contorts.
The apparition runs her hand through Elora’s loose waves but Elora doesn’t flinch. She has no idea that her mother is by her side. I raise my palms, magick needling along my fingertips. That momentary loss of time washes over me until I feel the portal open, thrumming against my skin.
“You’re Elwyn, correct?”
Her silver eyes ignite as she dips her chin. A small smile creeps over her lips as she continues to stroke Elora’s hair. “ Can you give her a message for me, Enchantress?”
My hands shake, still suspended in the air. Elora’s golden eyes burn into me. “Yes, of course.”
“Tell her I’m always with her. She was never alone. Not really. Tell her ? —”
My mind is racing, my body heating as I meet Elora’s gaze. “ Wait, please. Let me pass one message along first.”
“Elora,” I start, but she holds up her hand to stop me. Her bottom lip quivers, and she must know because she takes a step backward.
“Don’t.” She tucks her hair behind her ear, shaking her head. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t Sam.” She looks away for a moment, biting her bottom lip. “Not right now I just—” she rubs her forehead with the tips of her fingers. “Please, just don’t tell me.”
She exits through the greenhouse door without another word. I turn back to Elwyn. Her silver eyes cast down, but she says nothing before dissipating completely, fading into the air as if she was never here at all.
“We must tell the others!” Agnes beams.
My eyes blur. The longer I stand here, the more nauseous I become. I take a step forward and stumble slightly.
Agnes pays no mind, walking ahead of me rambling on about the rarity of a Spiritwalker.
“Perhaps it’s best if you rest?” Tallulah grabs my arm. Her energy relaxes mine and I lean into her side as we leave the greenhouse together.