Into the Storm: Into the Storm Trilogy Book One

by Serene Conneeley

  I call forth the guardians of the west to please bless us today, and to cleanse, consecrate and protect this space during our rite of farewell. And I ask the waters of the oceans, the rivers and the sacred springs to soothe our breaking hearts, and wash away Beth’s pain, wherever she is now. Thank you, element of water, and welcome.

  A sudden downpour outside startled her, and elicited a collective gasp from around the room. Rhiannon smiled. It was comforting to think that the elements were working with them, responding to her call, even if it was just her imagination. It gave her a little more confidence as she moved around the circle.

  I call forth the guardians of the north to please bless us today, and to cleanse, consecrate and protect this space during our rite of love. And I ask the stones, the crystals and the very earth that we walk upon to ground and strengthen us, and to hold Beth safe within its womb. Thank you, element of earth, and welcome.

  Her voice remained low, little more than a whisper, but slowly she felt herself strengthen, felt the awe in the room, not for her, but for the magical process that was unfolding. She sensed Rose’s energy too, reaching out to her, enveloping her, holding her up, and supporting her as she moved to the next quarter. And she wanted to believe that her mum was there, watching her proudly as she summoned the courage to speak.

  I call forth the guardians of the east to please bless us today, and to cleanse, consecrate and protect this space during our rite of sadness. And I ask the winds of the planet, both stormy gale and gentle breeze, and the very air itself, to inspire and uplift us, and transport our messages of love and loss to Beth. Thank you, element of air, and welcome.

  A whoosh of wind rattled the windows, and Rhiannon thought she felt a breeze race in the door from the staircase as she turned in that direction. Dismissing it once more as wishful thinking, or her imagination, she raised her arms skyward one final time.

  I call forth the guardians of the south to please bless us today, and to cleanse, consecrate and protect this space during our rite. And I ask the flames of light and heat, and fire itself, to burn away our fears and grief, and keep Beth warm on the cold journey ahead of her. Thank you, element of fire, and welcome.

  A flash of lightning split the sky, and illuminated the altar once more. There was another sharp intake of breath from those gathered, but as Rhiannon returned to her place in the circle, it was only Rose’s attention and approval she sought, and the priestess nodded to her, pride in her eyes.

  “Thank you, sweet girl,” she whispered, her words filled with gratitude and respect, before she lifted her own arms back up to the heavens. Her voice boomed out of her, deep, dark and powerful, and connected so solidly to the earth.

  Great Mother, divine goddess of wisdom and light,

  Shine your blessings on us so bright.

  Lord of the woods, of nature and might,

  Shine your blessings on our sacred rite.

  Hekate, deity of the crossroads, goddess of death and of balance, I invoke

  you.

  Please illuminate the darkness as we say goodbye to our friend, mother, wife and loved one, and set her free.

  And Ceridwen, goddess of death and rebirth, in your aspect of wise crone and elder, I call on you.

  Please lend us your wisdom and strength, and guide our beloved Beth on her final journey.

  Lowering her arms, Rose brought her awareness back into the room, into the circle, and looked around at each person.

  “Today we gather to say goodbye to our beloved friend Beth,” she began, voice heavy with the gravity of the occasion. “Death is but a doorway, so it’s said, a portal to a new life, a new adventure. So we have come together here today to farewell dear Beth, and send her on this journey surrounded by our love and well wishes. We are here to celebrate her life too, and the profound impact she had on all of us. She was like a daughter to me, and I am more grateful to her than she could have ever known that she allowed me to be a small part of her family.”

  Rhiannon’s eyes filled with tears, but this time they were not for herself but for Rose, who had lost her own daughter, but become a de facto mother to Beth, who’d been so badly treated by her own parents. Rose had bestowed all the love she had on someone else’s family, and Rhiannon was so grateful to her, while also being devastated that she’d never known, or thought to ask, about her lost child. But she could ponder all of this later, tell Rose how sad she was for her loss another day. Right now she had to focus on the present, and on her own loss, and pay attention to these rites.

  “Beth was an important part of our magical circle, always so welcoming, so supportive, and so filled with magic and wonder. She was a vital part of the local school too, a favourite of every pupil who had the good fortune to be in her class, and she adored being a teacher,” Rose continued.

  “Dearest to her heart though was her role as wife to Mike and mother to Rhiannon and Brodie, and it devastated her that she had to leave them now, that she wouldn’t get to see her children grow up. That she was letting them down, or so she thought. But knowing Beth, even for a short time, was to be transformed, and so each of us here today knows the magnitude of this loss, and shares the pain as we face life without her.”

  Gazing around the circle, Rhiannon was awestruck by the tears as well as the smiles being drawn out as Rose eulogised her mum, before she dragged her attention back to the priestess.

  “Beth faced her illness with incredible courage, drawing strength from her family, even as she tried to be strong for them. She never complained about the treatment or the pain, although it viciously attacked her frail body towards the end. She never moaned about the weakness that overwhelmed her, and she never wanted sympathy. She hid the worst of what she suffered, and I know she would have endured much more for even one additional moment with her loved ones.”

  As Rose paused, Rhiannon realised that even the usually unflappable wise woman’s composure was slipping now. Sadly she watched as the priestess took a few deep, steadying breaths before she was able to continue.

  “I spent a lot of time with Beth over the past few weeks, and indeed over the past twenty years,” Rose shared. “And she was adamant that she didn’t want people to mourn her when she left us. Instead she wanted us to celebrate her life, and to be grateful for the time we did have with her. And I vow that I will try my best to do that for her, no matter how difficult.”

  Mike was crying, great heaving sobs, and Laura had an arm around his shoulders in comfort. Rhiannon had tears pouring down her face too, but Rose’s beautiful words filled her with pride as well as sadness. It wasn’t just that the priestess had seen the beauty and kindness and strength in her mother, it was that everyone else here saw it too. It wasn’t much, weighed against the loss of her, but it gladdened her heart to know it.

  “Now Beth’s daughter would like to offer a few words,” Rose said, and extended her hand to Rhiannon. She froze. How could she do this? How could she vocalise the depth of her grief in front of these people? How could she do justice to her mother, her kind, selfless mother, in mere words? Her brain had turned to mush – so maybe she could start there.

  Slowly she walked to the centre of the room and stood there, shaking slightly, her gaze darting anxiously from face to face. All of them she knew. These were the people who had spent time with her mother, who her mother had cared about. The people who should be honouring Beth’s life, unlike the farce at the cathedral yesterday, filled with people who’d never met her.

  The ghost of a smile lifted the corners of her mouth, although her eyes remained sad. “Thank you for coming today, and honouring Mum as you pay your respects to her. She would be so happy to know that you are all here, and also a little surprised by the massive outpouring of grief. Not that she should be surprised, because she touched so many people’s hearts, but she was too modest to understand how deeply she affected us all,” she said, then paused, battling her nerves, her fears, her pain.

  “I’m not surprised though, because the grief a
t her loss has smashed into me like a truck, like a head-on collision, with a violence that has totally flattened me. So I apologise that I’m not making much sense. I can’t get my head around the idea of a world without her in it, and I’m not sure I ever will. Nothing makes sense to me right now,” she sighed.

  “Grief is such a strange thing, so intangible, so elusive, so hard to explain and describe, and so sadly real. It’s so chaotic that I can’t think straight, or see straight, or talk straight. It’s a creeping pain that has hollowed out my chest, and a shuddering, throbbing vibration like a monster, which rampages through my body and eats away at me – at my mind, at my heart, at my soul…”

  Gazing around the room, she saw the stricken looks of all those who had loved Beth. And then she saw the awful pain on her dad’s face, which made her realise they hadn’t actually talked about how the grief was affecting them, infecting them, crippling them. She could express herself here, where it felt somehow less personal, but she wasn’t ready to talk to her dad about how deeply she was hurting yet. Perhaps it was because she knew he was hurting just as badly.

  “It feels like my whole world has collapsed, or blown up, and nothing will ever be the same again – yet in some ways nothing has changed. And it makes me so angry that the world hasn’t stopped. That life is continuing on. But mostly it makes me sad,” she reflected.

  “Of course over the last few months I tried to bargain with god, or the universe, or whatever it is that controls these things. ‘Take me instead of Mum.’ She had so much to live for, so much still to do, so much still to give. She was the kindest person I know, and I think I will live all my life in her shadow, trying to live up to her, trying to make her proud of me.”

  She stopped, the tears in her throat making it hard to speak, but finally she managed to swallow hard and go on.

  “And I wonder, did I appreciate Mum enough when she was alive? Did I tell her often enough just how much I loved her, just how important she was to me? If I’ve learned anything this week, it is to cherish the people who are here, while they are here. To tell them that you love them while you still can. Right now. Celebrate those you love while they are alive – don’t wait until they die, please,” she whispered, voice ragged with pain. That was enough. She couldn’t go on.

  Rose walked over to her and hugged her, then moved back to the altar. And her dad, pain so clear on his face, put his arms around her and led her back into the circle, where they watched the priestess thank everyone on their behalf.

  Exhaustion hit Rhiannon, and she watched, numb, as Rose continued the ritual. But finally she farewelled the quarters and the deities and closed the circle, then instructed everyone to have a biscuit to ground themselves after the magic they’d all woven together. When people came over to express their condolences to her and her dad, the weight of her grief pressed down on her, and she felt her legs buckle. But the wise woman was there to catch her.

  “You spoke beautifully sweet girl,” Rose said, holding her close, and Rhiannon felt strength flowing into her, the strength to stand up, and the strength to keep going, for now at least, even though all she wanted to do was go home and hide in her room, and never come out.

  “I was in a total panic,” she admitted. “The whole time. I thought I would pass out from the fear, and the lack of preparation, and the pressure of all those people staring at me. The pressure to do right by Mum, and do justice to her with my words,” she grimaced.

  “And yet you didn’t,” Rose assured her. “Why do you think I left you here alone to make the wreath and the smudge stick, and blend the incense? It was so you’d be too busy trying to work out which herbs to use to worry about what you were going to say, or to prepare excuses to avoid speaking, or to worry about what people would think of you.”

  Rhiannon mustered up a half smile, part of her impressed with Rose’s plotting, another part of her a little put out by her manipulation. But she was glad that she’d spoken for her mum, because the priestess was right, she would have regretted not being brave enough to do it.

  For a moment she wondered if they should have allowed Brodie to come, but she thought her dad had made the right call. At the funeral in the cathedral yesterday her little brother had been so confused, and so frightened when he’d seen their grandmother. Even worse, he’d picked up on the distress and pain of everyone there, without understanding its cause.

  As much as Mike had wanted his son to be with them today, in the end he’d asked his mum to look after him while he and Rhiannon were at the memorial service, then burying Beth in the local cemetery. Anne had been reluctant to miss the ceremony herself, but she’d agreed that it would be too much for Brodie, so she’d kept him company at home.

  As Rhiannon joined the flow of people making their way to the cemetery, she began to wish she’d invited her best friends Debbie and Sue, to have some support of her own. She’d been worried they would find the magic too weird though – she’d never told them her mum was a regular at Rose’s magical circles, that she was what some people in the village would call a witch.

  And after her recent spellworking in the woods, and its disastrous outcome, she wasn’t even sure how she felt about magic anymore. But she’d really enjoyed the couple of rituals she’d been to with her mother, and the sense of possibility, friendship and support that the participants all shared, so she knew she should try not to let her one bad experience colour her feelings.

  Rose had told her that she was welcome to come to their rituals on her own now, but she didn’t think she’d have the guts to turn up without her mum by her side for moral support. She longed for a friend to share all of this with, someone who understood the beauty of Rose’s magic, someone who wouldn’t find her, or it, weird. Even more importantly, she yearned for someone who comprehended the depth of her grief. She felt so totally alone in her loss and bereavement, cut off from the flow of life and normality.

  When they had all finally assembled in the cemetery, the burial itself passed in a blur, Rose and the local priest respectfully hurrying the ceremony because of the grey skies and threat of another storm looming over them. Tears for her mum, which made Rhiannon smile.

  Soon enough her dad was surrounded by friends and well wishers leading him to the pub for a small wake. The bar manager told her she could join them, but she shook her head. Her mood was darkening along with the sky, and all of a sudden she really had to get out of there, to hide away and be alone with her pain.

  As Rhiannon headed for home, the heavens opened and rain poured down on her, and she laughed.

  Chapter 12

  Love and Friendship

  Beth... Twenty years ago...

  When Violet had invited Beth to the upcoming new moon ritual, she’d politely made an excuse not to go. She was grateful to Rose for the healing, and had felt a lot better, and a lot more patient, ever since, but she was mortified that the priestess knew so much about her now, and embarrassed that she’d cried in front of her. She just couldn’t face her.

  And what if Rose had told her daughter Violet about her, about what she’d discovered? She’d think she was an idiot, surely, that she’d been with a guy who hit her. She certainly thought she was. And no doubt she would think less of her too, that she hated her parents, since her own were so great.

  But after another night at home, Beth had reconsidered. Rose probably would have kept her confidence, even from her daughter. And no doubt Violet wouldn’t really think any less of her – she was so damn sweet and non-judgemental, which would be annoying in anyone else, but in her was endearing. So when Mike called the afternoon of the ritual just in case she’d changed her mind, she thanked him gratefully and borrowed one of Jennifer’s long golden dresses to wear.

  She’d been nervous as she climbed the stairs, but Violet met her at the door, hugged her and led her inside. And the magic had crept over her again as soon as she entered the beautifully decorated room, thrilling her to the core. Part of her had worried that she’d just imagined the se
nse of Otherworldliness of the first ritual she’d taken part in, her rational mind being unable to explain just how full her heart had been, how inspired and lost in enchantment she’d felt.

  But now, as Rose welcomed the elements and the deities, relief swept over Beth as she felt the tingle on her skin, the goosebumps racing up her arms, and the swelling of emotion deep within her. It hadn’t been a one-off, that first time. This was something real, something she could be part of, something that made her feel stronger, made her feel more than she was, or thought she was. More than her mother allowed her to be.

  Violet squeezed her hand, as though she knew exactly what she was feeling, and Beth’s face lit up with joy. Grinning, she squeezed her friend’s hand in return, then focused her attention back on the ritual before her, following it more closely now that she was a little more familiar with it.

  The knowledge that the priestess hadn’t betrayed her confidence to her daughter warmed her heart – then a flash of jealousy slammed into her. If only Rose was her mother. She was such an amazing woman, such an inspiring role model, such a beautiful soul. It hurt her so deeply that she had to contend with her own cold, cruel, uncaring parents. But quickly, consciously, she reined in her bitterness. She was so grateful that the wise woman seemed to like her at least, even to care about her. It felt so nice. So unusual and yet so welcome.

  During the ritual Rose explained about the power of the new moon, and its ability to inspire and fuel new goals. Then she handed them each a candle so they could craft their intentions for the coming month, and send it out to the universe.

  “A spell is like a prayer, the vocalisation of your wishes and desires, the distilling into its essence of what you want to grow in your life,” she explained, voice rich and deep and quivering with power. “Once you know what it is you desire, you can send your intention out into the world.” She paused for a moment, and gazed around the circle. “But isn’t that the trick, actually knowing what it is that you want?”