“No need,” he said.
“Thank you,” she replied.
He looked out the curtain and noted the moon’s position in the sky. “It’s almost time. Stay still and try to relax. I will give you instructions as needed.”
He arranged the candles near him to give him an excellent view of the painting of Frasie. He took another lingering gaze at the beautiful redhead. She was a delight to paint, and an even greater pleasure to stare at while painting. Aiden may be a fool, and obviously wrong about his desire to seduce Frasie, but Aiden correctly discerned that he took enormous pleasure in seeing everything his girlfriend’s body had to offer.
“I can’t thank you enough,” Olivia said. “I’m sure you think me some kind of flake after your first attempt at helping me.”
“Not at all,” he replied. “I understand how difficult this is for you.” He smiled. “Don’t worry. This will all be over soon enough.”
Olivia closed her eyes. “I will remain open to the energy I receive.”
He could barely hide a chuckle. The canvas in front of him was merely a cover. Pictomancy had already sealed Olivia’s fate and driven her to the point of desperate insanity, but he had no use for his gift this evening. Darker arts would now be used.
He had waited so long for this evening, but his dutiful patience would now be rewarded. His grand design would culminate in tonight’s ritual.
Narelle’s death would finally be avenged.
Chapter 44
Olivia closed her eyes and lowered her guard. She quietly welcomed any energy within the circle to enter her without judgement, without analysis. She trusted Kytis. She resolved the ritual would set her free. It had to—she had no other options and little time left.
Kytis began chanting. His words were ancient Druidic. She caught only a few words that shared the modern tongue, but most were incoherent. It was for the best, though. The more she analyzed what he was doing, the less she could focus on her healing. Soon, he stopped, and a long silence ensued.
In the dark purple backdrop of her closed eyelids, thin, beautifully intricate silver symbols formed. She felt the powerful magic embedded in their graceful lines. Her skin tingled as the air around her filled with energy. The weight of her body eased, and her back naturally arched against the chair. Her head, previously slumped from malaise, effortlessly rested on her shoulders.
The symbols turned, and a gentle whirlpool of thin, silvery strands of energy swirled around her head. After several rotations, the thick clouds churned with ferocity, exerting an upward pull on her body. She grew lighter, her hands raised from her sides, and her feet lifted from the floor.
She trembled as the maelstrom churned above and all around her, fully supporting her weight and presence with potent elemental energy. Her struggle against it only made it worse, so she surrendered control. She relaxed her muscles, trusting her safety to the powers surrounding her.
Something in the storm beckoned her pain and agony. There should be no hesitation, she thought, in giving these vile things to the wind. It wanted them, and she didn’t. The swirling thunder made it clear in her mind it would accept her pain, now and for the rest of her life. She would be free of its burden. How could this be?
No matter. This sickly ache, both in her body and mind, could go. It merely dragged her down into the depths of her sweaty, stale bed sheets. The more it lingered, the less joy she derived from life. It patiently reminded her it was time to let go.
Was this the right course of action? Did salvation from her misery lie solely in Kytis's spell? Her skepticism still intact, she used the purity of the magical circle and the abundance of elemental air energy to ask for guidance. One last indication that would put an end to her doubt. She poured all her energy into her plea, hoping for an answer.
A wispy image of Narelle faded into view. A long, silvery robe graced Narelle’s etheric body as it effortlessly floated above her.
She reached for her. “Narelle.”
Narelle smiled and spoke in her mind. “Olivia. It is good to see you.”
“I’m sorry, Narelle. I... I deeply regret what happened.”
Narelle slowly shook her head. “Please do not despair. Our souls were meant to part ways in this life.”
“It didn’t have to be that way,” Olivia said.
“We both had lessons to learn from one another.”
“It wasn’t worth losing you,” she cried.
“We all have roles to play in each life,” Narelle said.
“I fear my time is soon,” she said. “I am gravely ill. Kytis is trying to heal me.”
“My son is angry. He foolishly wants to avenge my death.”
“But this maelstrom—it wants my pain. It can save me.”
“This was not meant to be. You cannot face your challenges without your pain. You must not part with it.”
“But it’s killing me!”
“No. Denying the pain is killing you. Examine it. Accept it.”
She looked inside the pain—beyond the dull, throbbing aches in her joints, muscles, and pit of her stomach. It originated from deep within, crystalized from the hate, abuse, and betrayal in her life. Distractions kept her from tending to the fertile garden it had sewn, and as she remained engrossed in whatever thrill she had conjured for the moment, it festered.
The growing monster within gladly accepted every emotional upset, every disappointment, and every pain, including the death of Narelle, and directed it away from her heart—the very organ that needed to feel it the most. The mind could turn the pain off and on, and the body could absorb it on lazy days. But the heart—no, that was hers, and it must remain pristine. By sheltering it from the very act of living, it was on the verge of death.
“I haven’t let it in,” she admitted. “I never let myself feel the pain.”
“That is what ails you, my dear Olivia,” Narelle replied.
Her heart had only been given the chance to feel the good in her life. She cheerfully let it be present while she slept with her lovers, talked with her friends, and engaged in all manner of fun. But she kept the most difficult parts of her life out of its reach.
“If you do not feel the pain, you will die,” Narelle said.
To save herself, she tried, in vain, to feel joy. But that was the exact opposite of what she needed. She now understood.
She took a deep breath and let herself feel some of her pain. Its depth caught her by surprise, but she found, in small doses, it could bleed a bit without losing the vital rhythm that connected her to the divine.
She thought of the twisted man who helped her with her dedication ceremony. In small doses, she allowed the manipulation and abuse to filter into her chest. She felt the horrible agony of his lies, beratements, and beatings. The ache was unbearable. She rationalized his actions, and hers, with pure logic, the language of the mind. But the heart never experienced these horrors. It needed to feel the pain.
She shuddered as the heart drew its first taste of agony.
“You can do this, Olivia.”
She recalled the death of Narelle, her best friend and unrequited love. She had used the same familiar, yet ineffective technique, to deal with this pain. Her mind had no idea how to process it and thus sent it to her body, sparing her heart the sorrow. In doing so, it sealed her fate.
Little by little, while being suspended in the magical swirl, she let the pain into her heart. It was incredibly difficult to be so vulnerable, yet in this vulnerability—in this pain, she found strength. The storm called to her, begging for her pain, but she now guarded it.
“The pain is mine.”
Her heart ached more than she thought she could bear. Narelle reached down to her and put her hand on her chest. A surge of soothing warmth reached to her core, easing the pain and bolstering her spirits.
“Let yourself feel,” Narelle said. “This is your great challenge. This is your lesson.”
Narelle’s healing touch helped reassure her she would have the streng
th to face this challenge.
“I can do this,” she said.
“You will heal, and you will heal others. It is time for me to go.”
“I am sorry,” she said. “Please... forgive me.”
Narelle smiled. “I forgave you the moment my soul returned to the otherworld.”
Narelle’s forgiveness settled her spirit. Her heart, still heavy with her burdens, felt a bit lighter.
“We will see one another again and share another grand adventure,” Narelle said. “Olivia, be well.”
The image of Narelle faded. She wasn’t ready for her to leave, but intuitively knew it was time for them to part. She took comfort in the fact she would see her friend again. She returned her attention to healing and let Narelle’s words resonate in her mind.
Let myself feel.
Slowly, she regained control of her senses, and the fog in her mind gradually lifted. She now understood the meaning behind the symbols Kytis used. She studied them long ago, but her emotional state, and Kytis’s manipulation, had clouded their meaning.
These symbols were commonly used in hexes. This maelstrom was no healing spell—rather a swirl of sick, twisted revenge, conjured by Kytis to draw out her pain and worsen her condition.
Narelle was right.
He aimed to remove the only hope she had of recovery—to feel with her heart. If he took that away, she would shrivel and die in a few days. His cover had been blown.
Her heart would take time to heal. She couldn’t fight him yet—at least not at this level. She needed time, and trickery, to defeat Kytis. She was a full-blooded Skilla, skilled in the art of glamor magic. She whispered a spell under her breath, setting her intent and casting the field of deception. She must hide her revelations, her true understanding of herself and what plagued her, from him. It would not be easy.
She not only had to trick Kytis, but she must satisfy the intense hunger of the maelstrom for her pain. The glamor she casted slowly fed it feigned distress and agony it so violently craved. The pressure of maintaining the deception nearly broke the illusion and crushed her budding recovery, but she held on because there was no alternative. It was either that, or die.
Finally, it had its fill. The winds died down, the thunder and lightning retreated, and she slowly descended into the chair. Kytis dismissed the symbols, the elemental air magic, and opened the circle. Sweat dripped from her skin, and every muscle in her body ached.
“How do you feel, Olivia?” he asked.
“The pain… it’s… it’s gone.”
He gave her a crooked smile. “Good. That has to be a relief.”
“It is.” She stood. “I can…” She took a few steps. “Yes, I can walk!” She looked up and thought of her encounter with Narelle. “I am so grateful.”
He extended his hands for an embrace. She obliged, holding herself back from his emotional perception. Contempt oozed from him, yet she kept a brave, oblivious face.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome.”
She took a deep breath. “It’s going to take some time, Kytis, but… for the first time in a long while, I think everything is going to be alright.”
Chapter 45
Niv awoke with an incredible hunger. She wasn’t sure if the sensation was stronger because of her vixen form or if she was drained from nursing her kits, but either way she couldn’t ignore it. She gently rose from the floor, taking care not to disturb her children, sniffed them and hovered over them to ensure they returned to a peaceful slumber, then proceeded to the door.
The door was closed, but Lyndoni was nearby. She looked up and smiled at Lyndoni but realized her facial expression would likely not translate well in her fox form. Nevertheless, her mentor seemed to know exactly what she wanted. Lyndoni opened the door.
She pranced outside and took utter delight in the deluge of smells that entered her nose. She could immediately detect the natural odors of the grass, trees, and flowers without having to specifically sniff them. The gentle breeze carried the scent of a multitude of creatures stirring about the grove. She stood still and raised her nose high, taking in the symphony.
A particular smell caught her attention. It stirred something deep inside—a desire quite primal. It would not be ignored. She walked to the edge of the clearing, then ventured into the woods. The smell grew stronger, pulling her further into the trees. She feared if she ventured too far she would leave the grove and not know how to return.
She stopped her forward advance and turned right, keeping her distance from the perceived boundary. To her surprise, the scent intensified. She followed it, darting between trees and bushes until she laid eyes on its source—a white rabbit. Her human form would find this animal adorably cute, but in her vixen state, this creature represented vital nourishment for her kits.
It hadn’t spotted her yet, so she crept to a safe distance and observed it dining on some succulent greens. While it ate, it scanned the area, searching for any danger. Fortunately, she was squarely behind it. She waited for a brief second, tensed her muscles, took a sharp breath, then pounced, biting the back of its neck.
The rabbit shrieked, but its fate was sealed. There was no escape. She bit as hard as she could, crunching the animal’s neck. It still wiggled violently in its grasp, but a ferocious shake of the animal in her mouth ended its resistance. She firmly grasped the corpse in her powerful jaws and walked to the line between the forest and the grove clearing.
She sat and ate her prey. Normally she’d want to cook the rabbit, but she now saw nothing wrong with eating the raw meat. She ate quickly and constantly surveyed her surroundings, guarding her food from anyone hoping to steal her prize for an unearned meal.
When she finished, she cleaned her face, returned to Lyndoni’s home, and scratched at the door. After a brief wait, Lyndoni opened it, and she proceeded directly to her kits.
Lyndoni knelt and patted her head. “You’re a good huntress, and a wonderful mother.”
After nursing her children, she went to Lyndoni and begged her attention.
“I agree. It is time.” Lyndoni said. “Remember the sensations you experience in your human form. Imagine yourself stretching and transforming, your muscles flexing into your original shape.”
She found it considerably easier to focus her mind as a vixen. She didn’t have to meditate—imagination and deep thought came easily. She did as Lyndoni instructed, and within seconds she morphed back into her human form. Her perspective shifted, her mind focused on less immediate matters, and her sense of smell and hearing diminished. Her eyesight returned to its beautiful full color.
She looked back at the kits. “That was… terrifying and disturbing.” She smiled. “And exhilarating.”
Lyndoni nodded. “You now have a second life, Niv. One you can indulge in any time you like. Though, with children, I suspect you’ll spend a lot of time as a vixen until they’re weaned.”
She sat next to the wiggly kits. They crawled in her lap and awkwardly hopped about the room.
“I wonder if they know who I am in this form?” she asked.
“Yes. Animals can easily sense these things as they aren’t cursed with our cluttered minds and assorted misconceptions. They exist in the now. Nothing more.”
“That’s exactly what I experienced,” she said. “There were no plans, there were only actions. My goal was paramount. Nothing else mattered. The drive—the focus. I already miss it.”
“Yes, but there are many advantages to these forms,” Lyndoni replied. “Our pleasures are considerably more intense, and our emotional pallet is filled with enormous nuance. We take longer to cut through the noise in our minds but can raise far more magical power than any animal could. And we can make love, Niv. Oh… animals breed, but we take our time, experiencing every ounce of excitement with our lovers. And don’t give me that look, Niv. I may be old, but I’m not dead.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Oh, I know, but I know what you’
re thinking. Our desires don’t diminish as we age. Only the time we have left to enjoy them.” Lyndoni wagged her finger at her. “Which is precisely why you should enjoy yourself at your age.”
“I do. Shareis and I have a lot of fun together. Well, sometimes, anyway. Being High Priestess doesn’t exactly allow for ample alone time.”
“Make the time, Niv. There are no excuses for wasting such a delectable pleasure.”
“I miss her.”
“I know you do, dear. If it’s any consolation, she will hardly miss you. The time you spend in the grove is but a blink of an eye for her.”
“That helps… some.”
“It won’t be long,” Lyndoni said. “In fact, there is but one step remaining until your Druidic power can fully emerge.”
“I thought bonding with the fox was the last step.”
“Almost. To maintain the purity of mind to channel the power necessary to break the seal on your mother’s jar, you must free yourself from all addictions.”
“Addictions? I don’t have any.”
Lyndoni pointed to her necklace. “The Amulet of Balance. Did you not make a promise to the avatar within the amulet?”
She clutched the gem. “How did you know?”
“I was the last person to wear the amulet.”
She gasped. “You? I… I had no idea. My mother never mentioned it.”
“She didn’t know. Nearly four hundred years ago I used the Amulet of Balance to stop a threat that would have ended the grove. I wore the amulet for almost a decade before learning its effect harmed the avatar in the stone.”
She hung her head. “He told me it harmed him, and yet I still wear it. I told him I would free him after I had defeated Vorea, but… I have not fulfilled my promise.”
“The pull of the amulet is strong.”
“How did you break the bond so easily?”
“I didn’t say it was easy. Giving up the amulet was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. And I’ve bore children, buried husbands, and lost a son. I know what is required, and I must now help you break free of its grasp.”
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