Epilogue
GAIA
The chilled autumn air nipped at Gaia’s arms, and she rubbed them, gazing expectantly toward the garden pathway that led to the cobbled road. Behind her, Sybil’s arms came around her, and a soft kiss pressed to her cheek.
“You worry too much, Polly,” Sybil murmured.
Gaia let her eyes close, relishing the feel of her lover’s warm embrace. Goddess, she had missed this. The briny sea air, the whispering wind, the chill of autumn nightfall at Samhain…
It was so familiar, and yet, she had never expected to experience it again. She fully intended to die, whether by Trivia’s hand or by the Titans’.
But here she was with the woman she loved. A blessing she did not deserve.
“I wish I could wait for them at the docks,” Gaia murmured.
“You’re needed here,” Sybil protested. “And, I must admit, you’re doing a terrible job. I need more willow sprigs.”
Gaia sighed, falling back on her knees to sift through Sybil’s thriving garden. She found the discarded willow sprigs that had been abandoned as she had once more thought of her daughters, worrying they wouldn’t make it.
But Prudence, Pomona, and Trivia had promised to be here. Gaia knew they would come.
A coil of powerful magic curled in the air, and Gaia stiffened, her head lifting as she gazed down the path. After a few moments, three figures appeared, and a wide smile split across her face.
In a flash, Gaia was on her feet, rushing down the path and throwing herself into the waiting arms of her three daughters.
Prudence and Pomona hugged her back immediately, squeezing tightly.
But Trivia held back. She touched Gaia’s arm, but she remained distant, the twist of her lips betraying her discomfort.
Displays of affection among family members was still foreign to her.
My fault, Gaia thought. It’s my fault she’s like this. My fault she didn’t grow up with a mother to love her.
Swallowing down her grief and regret, Gaia parted from Prudence and Pomona, then embraced Trivia fully, crushing her against her chest.
Trivia yelped slightly, her arms flailing before she hesitantly grasped Gaia in return.
“You are loved,” Gaia whispered in her ear. “My daughter, you are so very loved. Never forget that.”
When Gaia pulled away, Trivia’s eyes were moist, and she sniffed. “Um. Well. It’s good to see you, Mother.”
Mother.
It wasn’t Mama, but it was better than calling Gaia by her given name.
Gaia smiled, taking in her daughters’ appearances.
Prudence’s face was glowing, her lavender eyes bright.
Her usual curly mane of hair was slightly puffy from the humid air.
Pomona was more altered. Her face was a bit paler, and her eyes seemed so strange now that they were hazel instead of emerald.
But the small smile on her face and the shrewd look in her gaze was all Pomona. She was still Gaia’s daughter, even if she was mortal.
Then, there was Trivia. She wore a golden gown with a sleeve over one shoulder, and a laurel crown atop her head. She looked every bit the Queen of Elysium.
“My darling daughters,” Gaia said thickly, struggling to keep the tears at bay. “I am so grateful you’ve come.”
“Sybil!” Pomona cried, darting around Gaia to embrace her stepmother. Prudence followed suit, the two girls clinging to the woman who had helped raise them. Sybil’s beautiful face was just as glowing, as if she, too, possessed goddess blood. Her smile was wide, lighting up her features.
Sybil might not have birthed the two girls, but she loved them as her own. It was one of the many things Gaia adored about her.
“Are we too late?” Pomona asked, looking at Gaia with a small frown.
“Not at all.” Gaia scooped up the basket of herbs she’d been collecting, then jerked her head in the direction of the path. “We were just heading to the square.”
They walked down the cobbled path, Prudence chattering about the affairs of the Underworld. A council of demons was helping her and Cyrus rule. Some of the gods in Elysium were unhappy with this, but from what Gaia gathered, it was working quite well.
Certainly better than when Aidoneus had been in charge.
A few villagers passed by, nodding politely at Gaia. One or two smiled broadly at Prudence and Pomona, easily recognizing them, even after all this time.
This was still the girls’ home. Even if their hearts were now elsewhere, in Gaia’s eyes, the three of them would always belong here.
Trivia’s brows were furrowed as she took in everything, her eyes roving over the swaying palm trees and the thatch-roofed homes. This was her first time on Krenia.
“Have you been to a Samhain ceremony before?” Gaia asked her.
Trivia blinked, then met her gaze. “No. I never had the chance.”
Because of how I was raised.
The unspoken words hung between them, but there was no guilt or accusation. Just the truth.
It was something Trivia might never heal from. And something Gaia might never forgive herself for.
Gaia took Trivia’s hand in hers. “It is something to behold. You’ll see.”
They reached the town square where a circle of chanting witches stood hand-in-hand as they muttered the words of the spell.
Already, the air was thick and potent with the presence of spirits.
The veil was its thinnest at dusk. Once the sun fully set, the echoes of the ancestors would cross over to greet them.
Sybil inserted herself into the circle, grasping hands with her fellow witches and joining in the chanting. But Gaia and her daughters stood on the outskirts, not wanting to intrude.
This was a sacred ceremony, fueled by the magic of witches. With this much power between the four of them, Gaia feared it might alter the spell circle. She didn’t want to risk damaging the veil or the spirits.
“Do you feel it?” Gaia asked Trivia.
Trivia nodded, her wide eyes fixed on the witches. She looked so young. So innocent. In this moment, Gaia could envision her as a little girl experiencing this for the first time.
“What are they saying?” Trivia whispered in awe.
“The words translate to, Open. Receive our gift. Commune with us.”
“What gift have they offered?”
Gaia gestured to the altar resting in the middle of the witches where a slaughtered goat lay, its fresh blood gleaming on the stone.
Trivia shuddered. “Lovely.”
“It’s the way of the witches,” Gaia said with a shrug. “If it hadn’t been sacrificed, it would have been eaten with the meal.”
Trivia snorted at that.
Then, she suddenly froze. A keening wail pierced the air, echoing around the square. The townsfolk gasped as several other whispers and murmurs resonated from the witches’ spell.
Gaia loved this part for many reasons. For one, it was always awe-inspiring to see how the spirits communicated with them.
For another, she loved watching the reactions of the villagers who possessed no magic.
The people’s eyes were wide and full of wonder.
Some were only children, clearly experiencing their first Samhain ritual.
“Prue,” murmured a voice.
Prudence went rigid and uttered a soft gasp.
Gaia looked around, searching for the source of the voice, but she couldn’t see anyone.
“I am always here with you, Prue,” said the voice.
Tears glistened in Prudence’s eyes, and she pressed a hand to her heart. “And I am always with you, Lagos.”
Gaia’s throat tightened. She had not known Lagos, but from what she had heard, he had been a fierce ally of Prudence’s from the beginning. And she would always think fondly of him for that.
A shimmering form appeared in front of them, this one taking the shape of a woman with long hair. “Your coven is beautiful,” the woman said, her voice deep and firm.
Pomona’s breath hitched, and she covered her mouth with her hand. “Farah?”
“Do not mourn me,” Farah said. “I have died a warrior’s death, and for that I will be honored.”
“And so she is,” Trivia said softly. “I have met her in Elysium. She has found peace.”
Pomona let out a shuddering sob, tears streaming down her face. All around the square, spirits were visiting their loved ones. There was not a dry eye in the space. Even the chanting witches were weeping from the power emanating around them.
“I am glad to see you so content, dear one,” said a voice in Gaia’s ear. Her eyes closed as she relished the sound of her old friend, Hestia.
“I am glad, too,” Gaia whispered.
She leaned her head on Pomona’s shoulder, then took Prudence and Trivia’s hands in hers.
“This is true beauty right here,” she told her daughters.
“To experience the purest form of witch magic guiding these spirits to us in a celestial reunion—alongside the people I love most in the world.” She caught Sybil’s eye from across the square.
Sybil’s gaze seemed to burn into hers with the intensity of a raging inferno.
Gaia’s heart was full. And as her daughters expressed their agreement with her sentiment, she realized there was nothing more perfect than this.
Home.
Family.
And the thriving beauty of earth magic.