By my will a circle formed,
Between the worlds where magic’s born.
Contain the energy raised within,
As the veils between these worlds do thin.
Hold us safe throughout this rite,
As we create magic together on this night.
The circle is cast, so mote it be.
Her dad squeezed her hand, and Rhiannon turned to him, seeing her own sense of wonder reflected in his shining eyes, eyes filled with tears at his loss, but also a new understanding of how loved his wife had been, and how full her life. Bringing him tonight had given him an unexpected gift, and she was grateful all over again to Rose, for still including her despite having a real granddaughter now, and for opening her circle to Mike, and honouring Beth and her role in this community.
Then she looked at the women calling the directions. Her teacher Laura, who welcomed east and the element of air into the circle. Paulette, who welcomed west and the element of water. Miri, who called south and the element of fire. And Joanna, who called north and the grounding element of earth.
She was blessed to be surrounded by such strong women, friends of her mother’s, and of Carlie’s mother too. What a strange small world it was, that their mums had known each other, had been – two decades ago – part of this same circle of magical women. Had both been loved by her dad too, which was a more sobering thought, and yet she no longer felt jealous or insecure about that, she just felt even more connected to her new friend.
The poor girl. It had only been a month since she’d been sent all the way across the world on her own, bereft of everything she’d ever held dear, ever known, yet Carlie thought she was weak, selfish and self-indulgent that she wasn’t totally over her grief already. Perspective was a funny thing. Perhaps her friend needed to start seeing herself the way she and Rose saw her – not weak, or cruel in her grief, but strong, and resilient. Open to the world, and kind of heart.
A laugh rang out in her head, and her gaze flew to Rose.
“And you need to see yourself the way we see you, sweet girl,” the priestess said. Her lips weren’t moving, but it was her speaking, and there was love in her voice, along with amusement.
Shocked, Rhiannon giggled before she could stop herself. “Touche,” she whispered, then tried hard to smother her grin when her dad looked at her questioningly. It was time to focus on the ritual, to be present. Heart lighter, she took a deep breath – and then she stopped thinking and allowed herself to fall under Rose’s spell and into the magic.
* * * * *
When she woke up the next morning it was still dark, but her head was full of spells, and possibility, and for the first time in a long time she dragged herself out of bed with a sense of hope. Her mind whirred, trying to process all she’d felt and experienced the night before, and she knew she had to do something more with the magic, something more formal.
Rose had told her repeatedly that she was welcome at all her circles, the eight sabbats of the ritual year, plus the monthly new and full moon ceremonies, but she wanted more, she needed more.
She craved some kind of study, something formal, because she wanted to understand the beauty of the previous night on a deeper level, wanted to know and be and do more. Wanted to understand her mum and what she’d held so dear. That Carlie was trying to find clues and answers to the mystery of her own mother, made Rhiannon realise there was still so much she wanted to know about hers as well.
Racing downstairs, she headed into the dining room-come-study and over to her mum’s bookshelf. Like everything else of Beth’s, it remained as it had been when she died, neither Rhiannon or her dad having the heart to throw anything out or even pack it up and away. Gratitude swept over her when she saw that all the witchy books were still there, colourful spines enticing her over to explore.
Grabbing some paper and a pen, she started flicking through the nearest magical tome, taking notes and marking pages. It had spells for everything from how to entice a man to how to cure a broken heart, which made her giggle. It wasn’t until she found a more serious one, and started delving into the history of witchcraft as well as its more spiritual modern side, that she remembered the Book of Shadows that Rose had given her, along with her mother’s personal collection. Breathless, she raced up to her room and slid hers out from under the bed, then reverently lifted her mum’s down from the top of her wardrobe and slowly sank to the floor.
The moment she placed her hand on her mother’s book, chills shot up her arm, and she felt a flutter of anticipation in the pit of her stomach. Shocked, she opened it to the first page, and a pulse of energy rushed through her, while a shock of pain stabbed her in the heart. But as she traced over the letters on the title page, Beth’s Book of Shadows, a sense of calm swept over her, and she found herself smiling through her tears. Here was her sense of connection with her mum, and she felt sad that she’d waited so long to sit with her enchanted writings and unravel their mystery.
Time flew by as she thumbed through the book, and her heart swelled with renewed love for her magical mother. Within the beautifully embossed pages filled with Beth’s large, occasionally messy handwriting, Rhiannon began to see a new, deeper side of her mother, and a confidence and sense of purpose she hadn’t been aware of.
There were spells, of course, but also the details of simple as well as complex rituals, with invocations to the many deities and the welcoming and farewelling of the directions written out, along with the activities within each one, and recipes for the treats to be made and served as part of each sabbat.
And there were pages and pages devoted to her studies too – the medicinal and magical properties of herbs, the meanings of and uses for crystals, the timing of the sabbats, the moon phases and even the tides. And there were details of divination exercises Beth had performed for herself, showing the fears she’d held and the things she’d longed for.
So much knowledge, so much passion, which her daughter hadn’t ever known about. And Rhiannon finally realised how very seriously her mother had taken all of this, her identification as a witch, her belief in the goddess, and her initiation into the coven Rose had been running in the village for decades. She’d misunderstood it completely, thinking her mum had gone along primarily for the social aspect, to spend time with her friends and catch up on gossip and their day-to-day lives, just marking the seasons on a superficial level. But her mother’s words revealed a complex and long-lived connection to the world around her, to the cycles of the moon, and the rhythms of the sun, and the turning of the earth.
There was a deep and binding association with the other women of the coven too, relationships she’d never recognised, or seen revealed, relationships that had been such a crucial part of Beth’s life. And throughout it all her love and respect for Rose was paramount, so clearly spelled out in each word she used, in each ritual she recorded.
Desperately Rhiannon wanted this in her life, not just to feel closer to her mother, but to feel closer to herself. Beth’s book revealed a strong sense of self, and self-awareness, and she realised that witchcraft was a path of personal development, of understanding yourself and becoming a better person.
Each ritual they’d created also contained an aspect of service. Collecting food or knitting blankets for the homeless as a way to express their gratitude for their own lives. Offering healing to those in need. Planting trees in spring or protesting a harmful local development to honour their environmental concerns. Their coven wasn’t about what they could get out of magic, but how they could find new ways to give to others.
Inspired by the words in her mum’s book, she headed back downstairs with renewed purpose, and began searching the shelves again. Her dad and Brodie came and went, offering her breakfast, then lunch, then inviting her to the park with them, but she turned down their offers and kept reading, and scribbling down notes, until finally she had it all straight in her mind – what she wanted, what she willed, and how she would go about it.
Thril
led, she went back up to her room and changed into her favourite purple dress, put her mum’s magic-infused necklace on, lit a sandalwood candle, then opened the book Rose had given her. With a silver pen, she began to write.
Dear Goddess,
Today I commit myself to a magical path, a path forged by Rose, and by Mum, a path of love, strength, giving, wisdom-seeking and exploration.
Please bless me with inspiration and courage for my journey, with patience and wonder as I dedicate myself to study, and commitment and hope as I delve deeply into the Mysteries.
I will walk this path to honour my mother, and I will walk it to be the best version of myself that I can possibly be. To repay the kindness people extended to me in my grief, and atone for the times I failed Brodie and Dad as I tried to deal with my pain.
With love, Rhiannon
A smile lit up her face as she felt herself filled with purpose, and excitement burned through her. She couldn’t wait to talk to Carlie about it. She imagined her friend was just as keen as her to unravel the magic that their mothers had practised, to connect with the source of spirituality that had been so much a part of their lives – at least for a while, in Violet’s case.
And through a strange quirk of fate, the more one of them learned about her own mum’s magical journey, the more the other would learn too, since Beth and Violet had once been friends, had once been students of the same wise woman, had once loved and been loved by the same man. The parallels were spooky, yet it seemed fitting that she and Carlie would embark on this journey into the Mysteries together, each as innocent as the other, as cheerfully unenlightened and unaware, but with the same priestess to mentor them as their mothers had been blessed to have.
For a moment she wondered how this was affecting Rose. It must be unnerving to see dark-haired Carlie and blonde-locked Rhiannon in the circle together, both looking so much like their mothers. How had she found the compassion to love Beth as a daughter all these years, when she’d expected her own flesh-and-blood child to marry Mike?
Yet the priestess had made it very clear that discovering her biological granddaughter would not change how she felt about Rhiannon, who she’d loved as family since the day she was born, and she had been true to her word. With a sigh, she wondered how she could ever have doubted that Rose had enough love for all of them.
Then her thoughts turned to Carlie. It must be so overwhelming for her, to have suddenly discovered a grandmother she didn’t know existed, then to learn that her mum had once had a whole other side to her, a whole prior life that she’d never seen any sign of, never glimpsed a hint of.
The Aussie girl had revealed to Rhiannon that she’d had a secular upbringing in Sydney – so it would have been quite a shock to have been launched into a magical ritual, surrounded by women in floaty velvet dresses with flowers in their hair and a cloud of incense misting around them, as they honoured nature and the goddess, and all of them drawn together by her own priestess grandmother.
* * * * *
A few days later, too curious to wait any longer, Rhiannon knocked on Rose’s door. She was still a little shy, and unsure of Carlie and how she felt about the magic. What if she was just being polite that day at Brodie’s party, and didn’t really want to be friends? What if the ritual had totally weirded her out? What if she didn’t want to have anything to do with her, or with magic?
Before she could wimp out and go home, Rose opened the door, hugged her, and ushered her inside. “Sweet girl, hello. We just started brewing a pot of tea, so come in and join us,” she said, leading her out to the sun-filled kitchen.
Carlie looked up from the book she had open in front of her and smiled. “Hey Rhiannon, how are you? Are you already dreading the end of the holidays?”
Rose bustled around, bringing another cup over to the table and pulling a tray of cinnamon cookies out of the oven. Rhiannon raised one eyebrow. “Were you expecting guests?” she asked, anxious again. “I can come back later?”
Rose’s eyes twinkled. “Only you sweet girl. Come, sit down. I was just heading out to the garden.” Rhiannon highly doubted that she’d really been on her way outside, since she’d been brewing tea, but she played along, making small talk until Rose left the girls alone.
“So what did you think of the ritual?” she asked Carlie the moment the back door had closed.
“I really enjoyed it,” she began, eyes alight with enthusiasm, but voice still hesitant. “It was very strange though, and I’m still trying to get my head around so much of it, because it doesn’t make sense that I could feel all those things with just the power of someone’s words…” She trailed off, then quickly changed the focus. “What about you? Did you like it?”
Rhiannon smiled, warmth filling her as she thought of standing in the circle with her dad, and feeling the sense of connection with her mum. “I loved it. I was really nervous, I must admit – I’d been to a couple of Rose’s rituals with Mum before, so it was tough to walk in there without her. I felt the lack of her presence and her absence from my life so strongly. But it also made me feel a little closer to her.”
Pausing, she bit into a cookie, trying to think of how to proceed. “To be honest, I wasn’t actually sure that I’d feel anything, but I really did.”
Carlie grinned. “Me too! But it’s so hard to reconcile that with my logical brain. I know you’re familiar with all this stuff, but it’s so strange to me. And the fact that my mum used to go to these circles, but I had absolutely no idea, that was kind of tough. How could she have cut that part of her life off so completely? Did she miss it? And I couldn’t help feeling just how much Rose lost in a magical sense as well when she lost Mum – not just her daughter, but a part of her witchy circle.”
Rhiannon frowned as she tried to work out what to say. She couldn’t admit that her own mum had stepped in and taken Violet’s place – as Rose’s student, as her fill-in daughter, and as Mike’s wife. But Carlie seemed… not totally unaware.
“I know Gran still wove her magic with the rest of her circle, and that it included your mum. And she still misses her so much,” Carlie offered, and Rhiannon felt such gratitude, that even while her friend was grieving her own parents and trying to come to terms with this strange new world, she was sensitive to everyone else’s feelings too. She knew Carlie thought she’d been mean to everyone after her parents had died, but she disagreed. She was as thoughtful as she would expect from a granddaughter of Rose’s – very.
“Had you been to many rituals before?” she asked.
Rhiannon shook her head. “Just the few with Mum before she died, but only the more social ones. I never did any serious ritual work, because she thought I was too young, and I probably was. Then after she died, Rose kept inviting me, but I just couldn’t bring myself to go on my own. And to be honest, deep down I wasn’t sure I’d feel anything. I wondered if I’d just imagined it before, or felt something because I knew Mum wanted me to. And I was also worried it would make me too sad, be too much of a reminder of what I’d lost.” Then she grinned. “But it was amazing, I really loved it!”
Carlie nodded in agreement, and poured them more tea.
“I loved it so much that I’ve been doing some research over the last few days, reading Mum’s old books on magic, and trying to work out the best way to learn more, and do more…”
Excitement sparkled in Carlie’s eyes. “Me too! I’ve been poring through Rose’s books, trying to find answers. And I’ve started reading my mum’s Book of Shadows, which is blowing my mind – it’s not just all the amazing research she did, on herbs and crystals and divination and spellcasting, which is absolutely fascinating, but it’s also a strange adventure into rediscovering my mum, and what she used to be like, before she went to Australia. It’s like meeting a brand new person. Some of the things I’m learning about her are a little disturbing, but it also makes me feel really close to her.”
Flabbergasted, Rhiannon stared at her. “I have my mum’s Book of Shadows too! Rose gave it
to me on New Year’s Eve, but I threw it on top of my wardrobe and forgot about it, until the ritual the other night. I felt guilty about that, but maybe I wouldn’t have appreciated it as much if I’d looked at it earlier. After the ceremony the other night though, I woke up so inspired, and it was amazing to dive right into her work – it was so personal, but in a really beautiful way.”
Carlie smiled. “Same! So do you have any ideas about what we should do? Is it something we can learn at a workshop or course, or do we need to study via books and articles or something? Or just keep going to Gran’s gatherings?”
Drawn to the window, Rhiannon smiled as she watched Rose tending her herb garden. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I felt a bit overwhelmed the other night, and definitely a lot underprepared. I’d really like to do some independent study before the next ritual, so that I feel more confident, and can appreciate it all on a deeper level.”
Sighing with relief, Carlie grinned. “Me too.”
“So I was thinking that maybe we should create our own little working group, so we can discover things together, and ask all the questions we want to without feeling like we’re holding anyone back, or revealing our ignorance.”
Her friend nodded. “That sounds wonderful!”
And it did. When Rose came back in from the garden, cheeks red from the early autumn sunshine, they peppered her with eager questions. And the priestess was overjoyed that the girls were getting along so well, and were so willing to dive into the magic that had sustained her through so much loss.
Chapter 30
A Spell On You
Beth... Twenty years ago...
In the darkness of a moonless night, Beth tiptoed down the stairs and let herself quietly out the kitchen door, creeping across their huge yard to the gate in the back fence. Holding her breath, she carefully unlatched it, praying it wouldn’t squeak, then slowly swung it open. Sighing with relief that it had remained as soundless as her, she turned in to the laneway and made her way quickly down the darkened path, heading away from the village.
Into the Storm: Into the Storm Trilogy Book One Page 33