Into the Storm: Into the Storm Trilogy Book One

by Serene Conneeley

  Also known as the night queen, she was falsely accused of a terrible crime by her people and unjustly treated by her husband, but she endured her punishment with patience and love, grace and dignity, confident that truth and balance would eventually prevail – and she forgave all those who’d wronged her once they did.

  Her symbols include birds, horses, horseshoes, the moon, gates and the number seven. She’s a goddess of healing and forgiveness, and she and her birds sing songs that heal, that mend, that rescue people from trouble, that grant sleep to humans and awaken spirits. Oh how I wish to connect with her – maybe she can sing a song for me, heal my hurt, heal my pain, or wake Mum’s spirit so I can speak with her again…

  Oh! This all reminds me of that moment up on the tor, when I saw the white birds, which the blue-robed woman called angel terns, or faery terns. What did she tell me? “They represent peace, and hope. And they have come to whisper to you of magic, and of healing. Sweet Rhiannon of the birds, of healing and inspiration, they are a part of you, a reminder to you that you hold all that you need within you. That you are stronger than you think.” Maybe if I work with this goddess, I will feel stronger, feel healed. Or maybe it will help me heal others. She also sounds like the perfect deity to invoke while Carlie and I are studying to be grief counsellors.

  To start working with this goddess, I’ll need to pick up some supplies from Rose’s shop this weekend – her gemstones include moonstone, quartz, amethyst, garnet and silver. And I’ll visit the nursery, as her plants include daffodils, pansies, narcissus, bayberry, rosemary, sage, cedar and pine trees. Her colours will be easy to incorporate though, by wearing white, silver, dark green, maroon, grey or red clothes, which I already have thanks to Dad, or even just ribbons in those hues in my hair.

  Most of all, I love that you can invoke her to help you work on issues of self-trust, self-knowledge and inner strength, and that she also inspires people to discover their own ways to survive, and to survive with joy, after a situation that seems terribly bleak. I’m not sure I’ll ever be at the joyful stage regarding the loss of Mum, and I don’t need to be, but I’m feeling more hopeful now that at some point I will feel that I’m not just surviving, but will eventually thrive.

  * * * * *

  Classes at school the next day seemed to go on and on, because all Rhiannon could think about was their first coven meeting that night. Excitement and nerves battled within her all day – excitement that she and Carlie would begin working magic together, just like their mums had so long ago, and nerves that she would get it wrong, or be exposed as a fraud. Yet it went off without a hitch.

  Her friend was impressed by the circle of tiny tealight candles she’d laid out, marking the physical border of the liminal place between the worlds they would work within, as well as the small altar she’d set up in the centre, and the blend of sandalwood, lemon and lavender oils she was burning to cleanse and clear the space, and help them stay focused for their evening of magic and mysticism.

  Rhiannon was impressed too. Although she suspected Carlie was hesitant about being in a coven, she had researched and written an essay on athames, the ritual tool she’d received at their dedication ceremony on the tor, which was as in-depth as the one Rhiannon had written on chalices. It seemed they were even more in synch with each other than she’d hoped.

  They talked about the Great Rite, which was performed in covens using the athame and chalice to represent the marriage of the god and goddess, the joining of the high priest and high priestess, and the combination and balance of masculine and feminine that is at the core of the earth, of people, of all of life.

  “Perhaps that’s why we were given these two gifts, rather than anything else, so that our dedication incorporated the god and the goddess in a really deep way?” Carlie pondered. “I also found a reference, in a very old book, that talked about the Lady of the Lake gifting a chalice and a sword to someone worthy of those gifts. Perhaps that’s who you met, the one who gave you the chalice. Lady of water, of lakes, of blue.”

  Rhiannon’s face lit up. “It’s such an awesome mystery, isn’t it? I mean, who are they? Are they even real? The things they gave us are certainly real, but I can’t work out how a person could materialise like that, or have such knowledge about us.”

  They went back and forth for a while, but eventually they paused, acknowledging that they might never understand, but content for now to leave it as a mystery.

  The following Tuesday night, Rhiannon went to Carlie’s. When she knocked on the door she was out of breath, and hastily trying to compose herself, but she laughed when Luther started weaving around her ankles. She’d always loved Rose’s black cat, thinking him especially perfect for her witchyness, but now it seemed he’d adopted Carlie. Which was a good thing. His purring was especially soothing, and he had a wisdom that was hard to explain, but definitely felt.

  She’d been surprised when Carlie had told her she hadn’t had an animal companion back home in Australia, because the love she felt for Luther was visible and real. And it cracked her up that Luther was the archetypal, stereotypical witch’s cat, green-eyed and shiny black, with a grace unusual in a cat so old. He’d been with Rose for as long as she could remember, so he could be… fifteen years old? More?

  He stared up at her, his eyes assessing, and she giggled. “Oh Luther, you don’t have to be suspicious of me! I love Rose and Carlie, and I know you do too.”

  Why was he was eyeing her like that? Or was she just imagining it? Ever since their coven dedication, when the woman in blue had warned her that Carlie might betray her, she’d been feeling a little paranoid. Foolish of her, really. She was in charge of her own fate, and her own actions. She wasn’t going to do something she didn’t want to do, just because a woman of the mists had told her she would, and nor would Carlie. God, sometimes she thought too much!

  Relief washed over her when her friend finally opened the door, and she could stop thinking, stop second-guessing herself. It was time to start doing…

  The two girls sat in the kitchen drinking tea with Rose while she shared stories with them about Mabon, the next sabbat in the Wheel of the Year, which celebrated the autumn equinox. The priestess told them the history of the festival and then revealed the literal and metaphorical meanings attributed to it, and helped them delve into the herbal correspondences and foods associated with the sacred day. They scribbled all of it down in their Book of Shadows, eager to catch and capture every piece of wisdom the wise woman was prepared to offer them as they soaked up the magic.

  “All the festivals have a traditional meaning, rituals that have been celebrated for hundreds of years, but the meaning you attribute to it is just as important, and just as valid, as anything someone came up with last year, or last century, or wrote in a book. Whatever you feel is right, is right for you, so don’t ever let anyone tell you that you’re wrong. The magic you create and send out into the world, that comes from you. That’s why a spell you dream up will be far more powerful than any you find in a book, because it’s imbued with your energy, your intent, and your power,” she explained.

  Rhiannon’s face lit up with happiness and hope. She had always been in awe of Rose and her wisdom, and now she was inspired as well. To be told it was her own energy and intent that would make magic happen, that would give a spell or ritual its power, filled her with joy and enthusiasm, and fired her up with passion. And she vowed to dedicate herself even more fully to her magical studies.

  * * * * *

  A few days later, Rhiannon took one of her spell books to school, and she and Carlie flicked through it in their lunch break, rolling their eyes at some of the more bizarre inclusions, but bookmarking others to add to their own Book of Shadows so they could try them out later.

  “It’s the new moon this Sunday – which is the perfect time for casting love spells,” Rhiannon said, sneaking what she hoped looked like a casual sideways glance at her friend. Carlie seemed nervous, but agreed they could give it a go.
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  “Do you want to cast a spell for love or lust?”

  Carlie blushed, and Rhiannon giggled. She’d only been teasing – she only wanted love herself, but there were plenty of spells for both. Agreeing to change their upcoming coven night to Sunday to take advantage of the lunar energies, they got ready for their next class just as the bell rang.

  “Don’t forget to work on your list of things that you want in a guy!” Rhiannon called out, as she waved goodbye and rushed off to chemistry. The irony wasn’t lost on her, and she spent the whole class considering a very different kind of chemistry, and what qualities she wanted in a potential boyfriend.

  When Carlie climbed the stairs to her bedroom on Sunday evening, Rhiannon was physically prepared for the ritual – a sweet incense blend was burning on the altar, pink and red candles were positioned around the room, flickering warmly against the fading sky outside, and on the altar a large piece of rose quartz sat in the centre, surrounded by pink and white rose petals. Emotionally though, she was a bundle of nerves.

  She’d never done a spell before, and she was scared she’d mess it up. And while she’d been flippant when she’d spoken about it at school, trying to pretend she didn’t care about true love, trying to pretend she was far more worldly than she actually was, the truth was that she was a novice at relationships, just like she was a novice at magic.

  There had been a guy she liked last year, before her mum got sick, but that had fallen by the wayside after Beth’s diagnosis. And when her mother died, she’d been a total mess. For a year, romance had been the last thing on her mind. At the Lughnasadh ritual she’d started to feel a little less fragile though, a little more likeable, a little more worthy perhaps, so she tried to convince herself she was ready to open her heart, and that she deserved to be loved.

  Not that there was anyone at school she was interested in, but that was the thing with spells, wasn’t it – you sent what you wanted out into the universe, and trusted that you would attract it to you. Of course there was more to it than that – the spell was just the beginning, and you had to work diligently towards the outcome as well, not just sit back and wait for it to be handed to you.

  So how would that translate with a love spell? Her mind raced. Maybe she’d just have to remain alert and aware. Prince Charming didn’t know where she lived, so he was hardly going to come around and knock on her door, begging for a date. She would have to go out into the world so she could meet him. Start to interact with people again. Leave the house.

  For a moment she quailed at the thought, but becoming friends with Carlie was important. She was letting someone in. Being vulnerable. Opening up to opportunities. Helping someone in more pain than she was in. Becoming more sociable. And she was starting to have fun again.

  The thought hit her with the force of a blow. Since she’d been hanging out with Carlie, she’d actually been laughing again. Having moments of light within the darkness. So now seemed to be a good time to start focusing on love. There was no way anyone would have been interested in her surly, angry, grieving self, even if someone had come to her door, and she’d been in no fit state to accept love either. But her heart had been lighter of late, and that was a good first step. It also helped that she wasn’t desperate or anxious – she could be patient. For now she was quite happy having fun with her friend.

  Then guilt slammed into her. Was it bad for her to be enjoying life again? Should she be obsessing over love, now that her dad was a widow? Should she even contemplate boyfriends when her mum was dead?

  “Thank you for convincing me that I still deserve love,” Carlie said, breaking in to her thoughts. “Deserve to love someone, even when everything I loved is now lost, and deserve to be loved, even though I was… well, not so nice to people.”

  Rhiannon’s attention snapped back to Carlie, and she gazed at her thoughtfully. Here she was, thinking she didn’t deserve love, after almost a year of grieving – yet she’d told Carlie that she deserved it, just a few months after her parents had died. Why was it always so much easier to see things for other people? She wasn’t just being nice to her friend either, she genuinely thought she deserved love. So it was about time she started taking her own advice.

  “Are you okay Rhi?” Carlie asked gently.

  Oops! Time to be present, in her body and in this room. Smiling at her friend, she nodded, then handed her some matches to light the candle, while she lit the incense. Instantly the magic swirled around them, and her heart lifted as she felt a hand on her shoulder. Could it be her mum? Here to reassure her that it was okay to move forward? It was a nice thought.

  She anointed Carlie with jasmine oil, then watched as she cast the energetic circle they would work within. Then it was her turn, and she welcomed the goddesses of love to their rite. Branwen, Celtic goddess of love and beauty. Aine, Irish goddess of love and fertility. Venus, Roman goddess of love and beauty. Aphrodite, Greek goddess of love and fertility. Ishtar, Babylonian goddess of love and procreation. Freya, Norse goddess of love and magic. Hathor, Egyptian goddess of love and beauty. Inanna, Sumerian goddess of love.

  As the air seemed to shimmer around them, with whispers of voices and echoes of fragments of songs, they sat in the middle of their sacred circle, each with a red and a white candle, which they anointed with jasmine oil then carved love hearts into with a white-handled boline.

  A shiver ran up Rhiannon’s spine, and she felt the presence of the goddesses standing behind her, steadying her, letting their warmth and acceptance settle around her shoulders, around her heart, and holding her close.

  Inspired, she took a piece of paper and a pink pen, and wrote down all the qualities she wanted in the person she was welcoming into her life, while Carlie did the same.

  Goddess, thank you for the blessings you have bestowed on me, and the precious gift that I still have my dad and my brother. I miss Mum so much, but I know it is time for me to open my heart again, to let someone in.

  I want to meet someone who will understand me, and cherish me, and allow me my moments of sadness and despondency, knowing that it is not a failing on their part that I am like that, but a part of my journey.

  Someone who is strong yet soft, confident yet caring, interested but not obsessive, intuitive, kind, and understanding. Someone who will love me just the way I am...

  With much love and gratitude, Rhiannon xx

  At the exact same moment both girls put their pens down and looked up at each other, the candlelight sparkling and dancing in their eyes, and together they began to chant:

  As a new lunar cycle starts with today’s new moon,

  We ask that you send new love to us soon.

  Someone whose heart and soul we can fill,

  Someone who comes of their own free will...

  As they said it for a second time, both girls gently held a corner of their parchment into the flame of their candle, and watched as their lists curled up and started to smoke, their wishes released into the cool night-time air and sent skyward to meet the tiny crescent moon.

  Just before the paper burned down to their fingertips, they dropped the remains into the small cauldron on the altar, then held hands and chanted their invocation for a third time, ending with the witchy equivalent of Amen, “So mote it be.”

  Rhiannon wasn’t sure if it was the heady scent of the jasmine oil or the wafting smoke from the incense, the presence of the deities they had called on or even the spirit of her mother, but she felt a tangible shift in the energy surrounding her, felt a lightness, as though a weight was lifting from her shoulders, and a bolt of pure energy slammed into her heart.

  And when she slept that night she dreamed of a tall blond guy with broad shoulders and a kind smile.

  Chapter 32

  Embracing the Magic

  Rhiannon…

  Excitement pulsed through Rhiannon as their train pulled up in London and they jumped off, two people in a sea of strangers pushing towards the exit. It was a week after they’d cast their love s
pell, and she and Carlie were in the capital to spend the day at the Body Mind Spirit Festival. Rhiannon grinned. Not only had she found someone who understood her grief, but her new friend was as intrigued by spirituality as she was. She was so excited by what the year ahead might bring for them.

  When they found the venue and entered the huge concrete halls, Rhiannon felt a thrill rush through her. She loved the wall of heat, light, colour and sound that hit them as they walked through the doors, and it was all overlaid with the scent of sage and sandalwood – the scent of magic. Her face lit up with joy, and she turned to Carlie with a laugh. But her friend looked shell-shocked, and Rhiannon felt a pang of remorse.

  She had assumed Carlie would enjoy it as much as her, but she seemed terrified, which was odd, since she’d lived her whole life in the huge metropolis of Sydney. Then again, the festival was its own little world, carved out of the city, not part of it. As her eyes flashed over the rows of stands and the crystals reflecting beams of light in all directions, and she became aware of how loud and intense it all was, she realised some people might find it overwhelming.

  “Are you okay?” she asked gently. Carlie stared at her, trying to hide the emotions flashing across her face, and managed a hesitant nod.

  Rhiannon giggled, but took her hand. “Come on, I’ll protect you,” she promised, pulling her into the middle of the first aisle. “Do you want to book a psychic reading first, so we can plan our day around that, and then we can go and check out the seminars and see what’s on?”

  “Sure, whatever you want, I’m in your hands. Just don’t lose me,” Carlie pleaded, only half joking.

  Smiling, Rhiannon led her into the safety of a book stand and left her there while she organised appointments for that afternoon. When she got back to Carlie she tried not to laugh at the relief that she’d returned emblazoned across her face. Then her eyes widened as her gaze rested on the stand opposite them.