Into the Storm: Into the Storm Trilogy Book One

by Serene Conneeley

  Carlie’s reading hadn’t gone quite as well, with Isabella first telling her that she would have resolution with her mother, and then that her migraines were caused by the mercury in her fillings, and would stop if she had them all removed and replaced. Which might have been useful if she had any fillings.

  They both collapsed with laughter, and the high emotion of Rhiannon’s reading dissipated as they walked around the stalls again, arm in arm, looking at all the pretty things, and losing themselves in the colour and vibrant sound of the festival. When they saw that Rowan was running a seminar at 4pm, Rhiannon eagerly asked Carlie if they could go.

  They headed upstairs and found seats in the rapidly filling room, but Rowan soon had them on their feet, hands joined as he went around the circle and blessed each person.

  Rhiannon felt the golden light swirling around her again, and revelled in the sensation of peace that filled her. On her left she felt Carlie squeeze her hand, and a warmth spread up her arm, making her grateful for their friendship. A smile crossed her face, and for a moment she felt genuinely happy and content.

  Once they were seated again, Rowan explained that they would be going on a journey to meet their animal spirit guides, so after they closed their eyes, he took them through a meditation, guiding them as they went into their own hearts and minds, then travelled to a place deep within the forest, where a series of animals came to aid them with their emotional and physical attributes.

  Rhiannon watched herself walking through the lush forest, and was shocked to feel the physical sensation of the ground beneath her feet, the cool breeze through the tree branches over her head, and the golden sunlight piercing the leaf canopy and warming her shoulders. The path before her twisted and turned, and she followed it, curious, until she came to a small stream, where she was overjoyed to see the swan from her earlier vision.

  Stepping closer, she crouched down at the edge of the water, and it glided over to her, extending its head when she reached out her hand, and allowing her to pat the smooth glossy neck. It told her, in a strange garbled string of words she could somehow understand, that it would assist her with clarity and purpose, and seeing the truth of what she was.

  “I will guide you to the healing you need, and remind you of the possibility within you to transform – transform your grief to wisdom, your pain to experience, and your loss to purpose. I offer you deep peace, balance and inner healing, and I hope you will accept my gifts into your life, and into your being, and remember to connect with me when you are feeling most down,” the swan said kindly.

  “Whenever you feel that way, simply stop what you are doing and drop into the stillness of the moment, and the beauty of your surroundings, and feel my presence soothing your heart.” As golden light surrounded her again, she smiled and nodded at the swan. She felt so peaceful, and so right with the world.

  Then a huge condor swooped down, who wanted to help her deal with her sense of loss, and see how it could transform her into someone willing to help others, to share the wisdom she’d gained in order to not only heal herself, but others too.

  “I will guide you to new heights of awareness, show you a new perspective, and help you rise above your pain,” the condor told her. “I am with you to show you how you can take other people under your wing, like you have with your new friend, and as you will with your future career, and guide them through their journey of grief to healing, and through the cycles of life, death and rebirth.”

  Then the massive bird carried her across the stream, and she followed the cool, leafy path he indicated until she came to a green meadow. In the centre stood a huge ox, who ordered her to start sharing the burden of her family with others, and stop insisting that she could handle everything.

  Embarrassed, she shook her head, denying that was an issue, but the hulking animal pawed the ground, stomped his foot, and told her that he knew she’d taken on a huge amount of responsibility since her mum had died, and it was time she handed some back. She felt the truth of the statement deep within her, but still she resisted. Her father needed her, and Brodie needed her.

  “You need you,” the ox said sternly, and she felt Carlie next to the animal, next to her, nodding in agreement, but her energy was softer, more accepting and understanding. “I’ll help you,” she whispered, and reached out her hand to her.

  Before she could feel her touch, the sound of a rattle sent her flying out of the forest and back into the room, and she gazed around in a daze. Turning to Carlie, a question in her eyes, she saw her friend smile, the same smile she’d given her in the vision with the ox, then focus back on Rowan.

  He was telling the class that he’d recently had an oracle deck published, which explored the magical and medicinal purposes of a range of healing herbs. He shuffled the cards, then handed one to each person, and told them that the plant on it had a message for them.

  Carlie got tansy, a plant associated with the dead, which was used in rites of death and rebirth. It was a great card, symbolising rebirth of the self. Rhiannon got wood betony, a herb of grounding, of home and hearth, of responsibility, which tied in with what her animal guides had been saying – to stop taking on so much responsibility. She laughed. That would be nice, but she wasn’t sure how her dad would take it.

  When the seminar ended, Rhiannon stood up and headed for the door – but she stopped abruptly when she realised Carlie wasn’t with her, and made her way back to where her friend was talking to Rowan. He smiled at her in welcome as she approached, then asked the girls if they’d like to come to the after-party once the festival had closed, where lots of the presenters and exhibitors would be, chatting and catching up with friends.

  Carlie shook her head, but Rhiannon ignored her. “We’d love to!” she said, excitement dancing in her eyes as he handed them passes to get in. “We have an assignment to do on goddesses for school, so we can pick your brain!”

  Then she put her arm through Carlie’s and waltzed her away. “Oh my god, this is so cool! He must really like you.”

  Her friend shook her head, refusing to accept that, and insisted that they head home now so she could help Rose in the store the next morning. But Rhiannon was determined, and swiftly batted away all Carlie’s protestations. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

  “My cousin was hoping we’d stay with her tonight, so I’ll call her now and let her know we’ll be over later. This is so exciting!” she raved, ignoring her friend’s pained expression. “And who knows, maybe we’ll meet the objects of our affection – the ones we called forth with our love spells,” she grinned, and Carlie finally gave in.

  When they arrived at the party a few hours later, both wearing pretty new dresses, Rowan was waiting for them at the door, clearly overjoyed that they’d actually come. He quickly introduced Rhiannon to a Celtic wizard, Kevin, then spent the whole night at Carlie’s side.

  Rhiannon was excited to learn that Kevin had been working with goddesses for years, and had written a book about the deities of the British Isles. She also loved that he treated her as an equal, never talking down to her, but engaging her in discussions that made her dig deep within to define what it was she actually thought and believed, about life and love, magic and death. Some of the revelations surprised her, and she was really grateful to him for inspiring her to unravel and reveal her hidden thoughts and desires.

  He was a wise and lovely man, and so funny and irreverent, in between the more serious stories of gods and goddesses. He introduced her to another author too, who brought a new perspective to their discussions, and he also gave her a long list of books that would help her with her assignment, as well as with her own personal journey through life.

  By the time she and Carlie left to catch the train to her cousin’s place, her mind and soul were filled with magic, and a sense of potential and promise that lifted her heart with hope. The next morning the girls woke up happy and excited, and raced over to the biggest spiritual bookstore in London, stunned by the shelves and shelve
s of fascinating tomes on everything from shamanism, vodou and spirit guides to angel therapy, crystal healing and herbalism.

  They spent two hours there, wandering around, flicking through books, shuffling the beautiful oracle deck cards and gazing admiringly at the stunning jewellery and ceremonial pieces. Both of them spent every last cent they had, and on the train home Rhiannon threw herself into reading, while Carlie stared out the window, daydreaming about her time with Rowan, and finally realising how disappointed she was that she’d never see him again.

  * * * * *

  Back in the village, the girls each headed home to prepare for Rose’s Mabon ritual. Rhiannon breathed in the cool air and smiled. The middle of autumn was her favourite time of year, with its crisp, chilly mornings, bright blue skies and world aflame with colour, and she giggled as she skipped back to her place through the crackling red-orange-gold leaves that covered the bare earth.

  The things she’d talked about with Kevin the night before swirled around in her mind, and she started to feel the truth of them. He’d added a new depth to the sabbats they were celebrating too, and she was eager to talk more about them with Rose.

  He’d explained that the autumn equinox was when the world was poised between summer and winter, when day and night were in harmony. It was a time of equal dark and equal light, equal day and equal night, and she could feel it reflected in the earth’s energy in this moment, as well as within her self.

  When she climbed the stairs of Rose’s healing centre that night and entered the sacred space above the shop, she felt even more awe than usual, understanding so deeply that she was entering a magical realm, a place of the unexpected and the mystical. Standing on the threshold, she breathed in the heady scent of incense and the darkened mystery of the room, her eyes drinking in the flickering candlelight, the smoke weaving skyward and the four altars that had been set up with magical ritual tools and a sense of reverence.

  As she was welcomed into the circle and anointed with a blend of autumnal oils, she felt a deep reverence within her, and a deep connection to the women in Rose’s circle, a feeling of maternal energy wrapping around her and soothing her in a way she hadn’t experienced since her mum had died.

  And as Rose stepped forward to invoke the god and the goddess, Rhiannon saw her in a whole new light. She was a priestess who had become a maternal figure to all of them, but she was also a mother who had lost her daughter, a potentially tragic figure who had channelled her loss in a new direction and emerged a survivor, a love-filled, caring woman who chose healing and service over bitterness and defeat. A longing to be like her swept over Rhiannon, and she made a promise to take this magic seriously, vowing that she would focus on the light, and the joy, and stop falling into the darkness that so often circled her. She could choose, and she would choose.

  “Vibrationally Mabon is a season of withdrawal, of being quiet, of meditating, recharging, reassessing and pondering where you’re at in life,” Rose began, her voice rich and powerful.

  “The energy of the earth retreats and goes within at this time, as does your personal power, but you will emerge from this cycle with immense strength and wisdom. This is the period to honour your achievements, experiences and growth, and to ensure balance by integrating all parts of your self. Acknowledge and celebrate what you’ve reaped in your own life. Feel fulfilment from each goal reached, releasing what no longer serves you in order to move forward.”

  Rhiannon gazed around the room, stunned by the pulsing of electricity that she could see joining them all.

  “And on this day, when all is balanced, witches traditionally renewed their magical commitments, so you can renew any vows you’ve made or pledge a new one, be it to do with magic, love, friendship, career or anything else that you dream of.”

  Feeling a jolt of recognition, Rhiannon was proud that she’d vowed to continue working with magic just moments before.

  “As the shadows lengthen, it’s also a good time to scry for insight into your future, so we’ll light the cauldron fire in the centre of the room and stare into the flames,” Rose continued. “Allow your mind to go blank and your vision to blur, and see what messages and symbols are revealed to you. Look deeper, into the very heart of the mystery you are seeking wisdom about, and try to discover what you need to bring into your life, what you are harvesting, what you are saving and what you are letting go.”

  As Laura lit the twigs and kindling in the cauldron, and the heady scent of the scrying herbs wafted around the room, Rhiannon inhaled deeply, and approached the fire hand in hand with Carlie. Staring into the flames, she could have sworn she saw her mother in them, dancing joyously, free of pain.

  A constellation of tears trembled on her lashes, then spilled over and slid down her cheeks. But the heat of the fire made them evaporate – and as they dissolved, she realised that it was the only worst aspects of her grief she had to let go of. As she had that thought, she felt another weight lift from her shoulders. She almost laughed in delight. This sabbat was leaving her lighter in so many different ways.

  After the fire ritual, Miri, one of the women who had called the directions and the elements, stepped forward, and led them through a guided meditation based on the myth of the Greek harvest and fertility goddess Demeter and her daughter Persephone. Using a small drum to create a rich heartbeat that underpinned her chant, she welcomed them down into the earth, into the heart of the planet, grounding them with her words and her rhythm, and reassuring them that they were safe. Her voice was beautiful, and filled with power, strength and love.

  “Tonight we align ourselves with Demeter the mother, who cared so deeply for her daughter that she tried to change the world. And we connect also with Persephone, the daughter split between maternal and romantic love.”

  As the exercise began, Rhiannon felt a moment of panic, not sure she wanted to drown in memories of her mother in so public a place. But as she listened to Miri’s words and absorbed the tone and vibration of her voice, she finally felt soothed and safe, and sensed the presence of the goddess amongst them.

  Later, when they were gently brought back from their journeying, Miri asked if anyone wanted to share their experiences. Her face wet with tears, Rhiannon passed, but she felt that she could have spoken, and that one day soon she might. She no longer felt like a child, or a fraud, or a pretender, but a potential member of this circle of magic that had been so important to her mother. She felt close to these women, and to their experiences, even though hers were so different. And she knew that at some point she would be able to reveal herself, be vulnerable, take part, and the realisation filled her with joy.

  There was an electricity in the room, a sense of healing, and of shared possibilities and magic. Tonight, together, they had created a place between the worlds. Nurturing. Inspiring. Balanced. And Rhiannon wanted to be a part of that always, to bring the magic they’d woven back into her “normal” life.

  After the ritual ended, it took a while for her to anchor herself back into her body, and into the room. When Carlie started speaking, she still felt distant and out of focus, and for a moment she couldn’t form words to reply – although she laughed when her friend dragged her over to the table of food and sternly told her to eat. It wasn’t that long since she’d been instructing Carlie to have a biscuit to ground herself after her first ritual.

  The spread was beautiful, with wedges of bright orange pumpkin, a bowl of yellow corn, and a centrepiece of red apples, ruby-hued pomegranates and purple grapes laid out on a golden cloth. Towering plates of muffins, slices of fresh bread with jam, dark rye and pumpernickel cakes and sweet potato pie held the heavier energies of the season, and reflected the importance of grains at this time of year, alongside the root vegetables that grow within the earth.

  A bowl where people were leaving money to be donated to the homeless shelter sat at the end of the table, and was filling rapidly, because the awareness of the coming winter was a rich thrum beneath each word that had been spoken tonig
ht, and there was great sadness in the knowledge that even today there are many people who struggle to survive the cold season, or to find shelter, food and warmth.

  Rhiannon felt the chilly pull of autumn’s power, and the heartache of the upcoming anniversary of her mum’s death, but she also felt the hope of spring, and new beginnings. Had Carlie brought that with her from the southern hemisphere, where the seasons were reversed? She giggled. It wouldn’t surprise her if that was the case – her friend might be new to witchcraft, but she had an innate sense of magic that pulsed through her, no doubt helped by living with Rose. Or maybe it was in everyone, and just needed to be encouraged or shown how to emerge.

  Rhiannon smiled. Tonight she had summoned the courage to come to the ritual on her own, without needing the security blanket of her dad, or the urging of Rose. After three weeks of magic and coven work with Carlie, it was starting to feel natural to her, part of her, and she was sad that she’d waited so long to return to the circle. But all in the right time she supposed – maybe without her friend to accompany her, she would have felt too paranoid or insecure to let herself step in and soak up the magic. She might have gone once and been too overwhelmed to ever go again.

  Mabon was about balance, and today, finally, she felt that. Balanced between grief and hope, the past and present, anger at what she’d lost and gratitude that she’d had it at all. She glanced at Carlie. It was only six weeks since the Lughnasadh ritual, and three since their coven dedication, but her friend had blossomed, growing more confident of her own inner strength, and her potential. And she supposed she had too.

  Casting her eyes over the women assembled in the ritual space, she marvelled at their gentle auras, and at their power and steeliness. They were her mother’s dearest friends, yet it had taken losing Beth to really learn about the circle of friendship and support she’d so loved. Rhiannon’s heart swelled with gratitude for them, and she hoped that one day she would find a circle of friends like this, women who accepted her for who she was, and also encouraged her to be more than that.