by HR Mason
Glancing down, Runa saw a slab of stone buried in the earth. It was old, but the writing carved on it was clear. Crouching low, Runa placed the book on the ground. Then she gently brushed her hands across the stone, wiping away grass and dirt in order to read the words engraved there.
Angelica House, established 1900
Tears filled Runa’s eyes as she finally understood. “Everwine Manor is Angelica House, the house Thomas and Brynja lived in. A woman of my line was the first to live in this house,” she murmured.
Plopping her body on the grass, Runa grabbed the book, opened it to Brynja’s story, and continued reading. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she learned the sad end of Brynja’s tale, where she’d been forced to marry a man she didn’t love after Thomas’s death—a man named Lucas Everwine, who was cruel and stole everything from her.
She was shocked to discover that the cycle between the women in her family and the Everwines had continued well over a hundred years. Although she would give anything to change the way things had ended, she was happy the generational curse had finally been broken. She was back in the house that should have been theirs all along.
If Runa could go back and change the past, she would. But it gave her a sense of peace and continuity to know she’d somehow fulfilled a purpose. She had reclaimed the power the Everwines stole and finally set things right.
Runa glanced up and saw Alina, who had followed her to the angelica field. Ruffling the child’s blonde hair, so much like her own, she smiled.
“There are so many things I’m going to teach you, Alina. The women in our family have power. I’m going to teach you how to use it for good. These gifts live in us for a reason. We must never waste them.”
“I know, Aunt Runa. I feel them inside of me.” Alina smiled.
“There’s something we have to do.” Runa grabbed Alina’s hand, guiding her along.
She led the little girl into the house, up the stairs, down the hall, through the corridors, and into the west wing. Opening the door leading to the third floor, Runa placed her hands on Alina’s shoulders.
“I know you don’t want to go back into that room, but we need to. It’s time to put the past to rest.”
“I’m not afraid anymore,” Alina stated bravely.
Her eyes glistening with tears, Runa nodded in understanding.
They ascended the stairs to the third floor, walked down the center hallway, and opened the splintered door leading to the turret room. When they reached the top, Runa clasped Alina’s hand tightly in hers, leading her up the small stairs into the circular turret, the room that had been her prison for all her life.
The afternoon sun glinted off the rainbow of stained glass windows. The room was beautiful, but a dark, oppressive force was palpable in the air. Centuries of fear and pain had been locked inside the room. The time had come to set them free. Opening the book, Runa grabbed a pen. She flipped to the end, the section with the family history.
“What are we doing here, Aunt Runa?” Alina asked.
“This can no longer be a place of secrecy and darkness. Starting today, we’re opening the windows to the light,” Runa began.
Motioning toward the book, she continued, “The women in this book made us who we are. We’re strong. We’re survivors. Throughout history, people sought to silence our voices. They feared us because they didn’t understand. We acknowledge the women who came before us, our legacy,” Runa began.
Taking a breath, she began to recite the names aloud:
“Else, 1585
Bekka and Helga, 1600
Sofie, 1625
Nora, 1645
Ella, 1663
Maja, 1683
Thea, 1704
Leah, 1727
Amalie, 1748
Frida, 1767
Astrid, 1783
Tuva, 1803
Selma, 1825
Malin, 1843
Mille, 1861
Sigrid and Brynja, 1883
Ingrid, 1900
Mathilde, 1917
Ada, 1935
Celine, 1953
Asta, 1973.”
* * *
Pausing, Runa grabbed the pen and started writing.
Runa and Freya, 1991
Alina, 2011
All at once, the oppressive feeling lifted, and a glowing light filled the room.
Runa grabbed Alina’s hands, smiling as she saw the faintest glow of blue light streaming from the little girl’s fingertips.
Epilogue
Vardø, Norway, One Year Later
Runa held Alina’s hand tightly as the ferry pulled into the port of Vardø. It was summer in Norway, but the temperatures were still far from warm, hovering at an even fifty degrees. She had planned the trip for months, knowing travel wouldn’t be easy with a child, yet understanding it was something she needed to do.
If she had any hope of giving Alina a sense of where she’d come from, she needed to understand it herself. That meant going back to the place where it all began.
Runa had read the book from cover to cover multiple times. She knew the women’s lives nearly as well as her own. She felt tethered to them in a way she didn’t fully comprehend. The connection was primal, spiritual, and all-encompassing.
Stepping from the ferry, Runa and Alina followed the crowd. The overwhelming smell of fish floated into Runa’s nostrils, its pungency surprising her. The raw beauty of the stark landscape caught her off guard. She’d never felt such a complete sense of belonging as she did in that place.
Runa had arranged for a driver to meet them at the ferry, and she smiled as she saw a man holding a sign with her name on it.
“Runa Brandon?” he asked.
She was still getting used to the sound of her maiden name. She’d had it restored as quickly as possible, wanting no trace of a connection to the Everwines. She’d also adopted Alina, so the little girl bore her name as well.
“Yes, sir, I’m Runa. And this is Alina.”
“I’m guessing you’ll want to go to your hotel?”
“No.” She shook her head decisively. “I need to see the memorial first.”
“The Steilneset?” He raised one eyebrow. “You ladies are interested in witches?”
“You could say that, I suppose,” Runa answered noncommittally.
They got into the car. The man nodded and started driving.
Alina rested her head on Runa’s shoulder, closing her eyes peacefully. The child had been such a good traveler on their journey, wanting to see their homeland every bit as much as Runa.
Before long, the car came to a halt.
“That’s it.” The driver jerked his thumb toward the building Runa had seen many times in photographs.
“You’ll wait here for us?” she inquired as she and Alina climbed from the car.
“Will do.”
As she looked toward the memorial, Runa’s stomach clenched tightly, a sense of overwhelming sadness settling in her middle. She grabbed Alina’s hand, and the pair walked slowly toward the structure. The Steilneset Memorial was made up of two separate buildings, one square and one long wooden structure.
“Are you ready?” Runa asked Alina.
The little girl nodded. “This is the place?”
“This is the memorial they built to honor the people they executed for witchcraft in this town in the 1600s,” Runa explained, her voice shaking.
Runa swallowed hard. It was impossible to articulate all the feelings warring inside her. The second she’d stepped foot on Vardø land, her heart felt like it was home. She was overcome with a hundred different memories of the place, none of which belonged to her. It was as if Vardø cried out to her, the blood flowing through her veins answering its call. Being near the memorial was physically crushing, its heaviness bearing down on her with an intensity she hadn’t expected.
Alina and Runa reverently walked through the memorial, neither speaking, both barely breathing. A sense of sacredness filled the buildings, rendering speech almost
blasphemous. As they walked along the timber walkway down the narrow corridor of the first building, Runa’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at the ninety-one small windows representing those executed for witchcraft.
It all hit too close to home, and she felt the walls close in, understanding that if she’d lived during that time period, her name would likely be found among the list of the dead.
“These people were all killed for being witches?” Alina whispered.
“Yes, although most of them weren’t witches, Alina,” Runa replied in the quietest voice she could muster.
“Why did they kill them, then?”
Runa sighed heavily, her heart aching. “Because they were different.”
They headed into the next building, the square structure built from weathered steel and panes of tinted glass called The Damned, The Possessed, and The Beloved. Runa gasped when she saw a metal chair in the center of the room, an eternal flame burning through the seat. Mirrors reflected the blaze so it danced like judges circling the condemned.
It wasn’t difficult for Runa to imagine being forced into that chair, helpless to defend herself or explain her powers. She imagined the women in her family on trial for something they couldn’t control, and the thought was nearly too much for her to bear. The walls were too close, the mirrors casting eerie reflections throughout the room.
She grabbed Alina’s hand and went outside, gasping, sucking in the fresh air. She had to get away. It was all too much.
Heading back to the car, Runa asked the driver to take them to their hotel.
Hours later, after a warm dinner and a hot shower, Alina had fallen fast asleep. Runa pored over the book once again.
She’d come to Vardø, she’d seen the memorial, and she’d felt the pain and suffering of the wrongfully accused people. Still, she believed there was something she was missing, a bigger reason she’d felt compelled to travel halfway around the world to the place where it all began.
Sighing heavily, Runa closed the book and turned off the light. Snuggling close to Alina’s warm body, she gave in to sleep.
Somewhere in the night, the dream began, more vivid and real than any she’d ever had. She walked along the Vardø shore, the wind howling, the sky as black as midnight.
As she walked, the sky began to glow, the Northern Lights illuminating the darkness, every color of the rainbow swirling through the air. Glancing beside her, Runa noticed a woman had joined her, matching her stride and clasping her hand. Their eyes locked, and they smiled at each other, familiar though they’d never met.
“What’s your name?” Runa asked the woman.
“Helga,” she answered with a smile.
“Do I know you?” Runa tilted her head and looked at the woman, who resembled her so closely.
“I’m your grandmother, many times over,” she replied.
“You’re the reason I’m here,” Runa stated as clarity swam to the surface.
“Yes.”
“You called me to Vardø.”
“I did.”
“Why?” Runa asked.
“To let you know I understand.”
“You understand?”
“Yes. I know your grief. I, too, lost a mother.”
“You did?”
“Yes. Her name is written on the walls of the memorial you visited today.”
“Your mother… was executed?”
“She was.” Helga’s eyes brimmed with tears. “But she made certain I was safe, just as your mother did for you.”
“Yes.” Runa nodded slowly. “She died protecting me.”
“Because that’s what mothers do. Take this. It’s yours now.” Helga unclasped the Ansuz rune necklace she wore, fastening it around Runa’s neck. “The legacy is yours, min datter av havet. My daughter of the sea. It’s not about power. It never has been. It’s all about love.”
“I promise to pass that love on to Alina,” Runa finished.
Helga nodded. “Teach her. Make sure she understands the privilege and burden she bears.”
“I will.”
Smiling, Helga began to fade away.
Runa reached for her, desperate for more time. She wanted to learn from the wise woman, to bask in her power, yet she was thankful for the moments she’d had.
When Runa felt Alina stirring beside her in bed the next morning, she opened her eyes slowly, remembering the dream from the night before. A wave of sadness rushed over her when she understood it was all just a dream. She wanted it to be real.
Turning on her side, she watched Alina, who was drifting in and out of sleep. Runa had never set out to be the girl’s mother, yet that was what she’d become. She loved Alina with a force that sometimes took her breath away. She would do anything to keep her safe and happy.
In that moment, she understood how her mother, and generations of mothers before her, had found the courage to sacrifice their happiness, comfort, and often their lives for the sake of their children. Runa knew if push came to shove, that was exactly what she would do for Alina.
Shifting her body a bit, Runa felt something on her neck, a cool metal object. Sitting up slowly, she felt the pendant fall, resting snugly just below her collarbone. Her hands trembled as she reached up to touch it.
Flecks of blue light flickered through the room as her fingertips made contact with the Ansuz rune symbol Helga had placed around her neck.
Smiling through tears that fell like raindrops, Runa finally understood her purpose.
“Så det,” she whispered. “So be it.”
“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.”
—Roald Dahl
Looking for more unique suspenses from HR Mason? Check out Nothing Hidden Ever Stays.
About the Author
Thanks for reading DAUGHTERS OF THE SEA. I do hope you enjoyed my story. I appreciate your help in spreading the word, including telling a friend. Before you go, it would mean so much to me if you would take a few minutes to write a review and share how you feel about my story so others may find my work. Reviews really do help readers find books. Please leave a review on your favorite book site.
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H.R. Mason is an Ohio girl transplanted into the Pacific Northwest. She is a people-watching introvert who can be found hiding out in the nearest corner. When not writing, she loves rainy days at the beach, old houses and antiques, researching family history, reading, and getting lost inside her own thoughts. She is a lover of caffeine and a hopeless romantic at heart. A multi-published author in the Romance genre, she moved into new writing territory in 2019 when she crossed genres. Nothing Hidden Ever Stays, her debut Gothic Suspense novel, became an Amazon bestseller. It was the winner of the American Fiction Award for Mystery/Suspense, as well as a Finalist in the Best Book Awards.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Becky Johnson and everyone involved with Tangled Tree Publishing. The way you all rally to support your authors is amazing. Thanks to Claire Smith of BookSmith Designs for always perfectly nailing my terrific covers. Thanks to Kristin Scearce, Editor Extraordinaire, as well as the team at Hot Tree Promotions. You are all fantastic human beings, and I couldn’t have done this without you. Thank you for helping make Daughters of the Sea a reality.
About the Publisher
As Hot Tree Publishing’s first imprint branch, Tangled Tree Publishing aims to bring darker, twisted, more tangled reads to its readers. Established in 2015, they have seen rousing success as a rising publishing house in the industry motivated by their enthusiasm and keen eye for talent. Driving them is their
passion for the written word of all genres, but with Tangled Tree Publishing, they’re embarking on a whole new adventure with words of mystery, suspense, crime, and thrillers.
Join the growing Hot Tree Group family of authors, promoters, editors, and readers. Become a part of not just a company but an actual family by submitting your manuscript to Tangled Tree Publishing. Know that they will put your interests and book first, and that your voice and brand will always be at the forefront of everything they do.
For more details, head to www.tangledtreepublishing.com.
Also by HR Mason
Nothing Hidden Ever Stays
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Writing as Heidi Renee Mason
To Have and To Hold (The Vows 1)
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For Better or For Worse (The Vows 2)
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’Til Death Do Us Part (The Vows 3)
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Always Hope
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Love At First Crepe (Sweet Escape 1)
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Just Double the Recipe (Sweet Escape 2)
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