Descending

by C E Dimond

  Since turning sixteen, nothing in my life could ever be simple. Finding out I was adopted should have been enough to shake up my life. Adding on the revelation of magic well, the Gods could have stopped there.

  “I know the feeling.”

  Iseult’s words derailed the speeding train that was my thought process.

  She knew the feeling.

  Somehow, it has only just dawned on me that if anyone could understand what I was going through, it was her.

  “How do you deal with it?” It felt like a simple enough question, though I knew it was so much more. I had a feeling the answer would be far more complex than I hoped.

  I wanted to hear her say it had been easy, that she had perfected the journey and could help me navigate the process with ease.

  I knew better. Nothing could ever be easy.

  I used to believe that when nothing was easy, it only meant it was worth working for. Now, I was beginning to think the Universe just had fun watching us scramble through life.

  I watched as she pressed her lips together, either in thought, or hesitation before she confessed.

  “I’m not like you Finn. My life wasn’t fun, or easy.”

  I opened my mouth to protest that my life had not been easy, but I caught myself, deciding to just let her continue.

  “No one found me a happy family. I never felt like I belonged, like I was special. No one wanted me or loved me. When all of this came to light, I wasn’t losing anything, only gaining it. Dad rescued me, and while it was overwhelming, it beat the alternative.”

  It had not quite been the answer I’d anticipated. She was right, among the similarities, we were vastly different. She couldn’t tell me how to cope with this because, although our situations were similar on paper, she wasn’t coming from the same place.

  So, I just nodded.

  Maybe a hug would have been better, but she didn’t seem like the hugging type. Instead, I did what I always did when I felt awkward, I changed the subject.

  “I really want, no, need access to our genealogy charts. I wanted to know exactly when they went into hiding. I think that could help me peg down the origins of this prophecy.”

  “Why? What is that going to accomplish?” I felt a sense of relief at her question, pleased that she seemed to have taken the bait.

  “Other than pegging down the origins of the prophecy?” I asked unable to hide the layer of sarcasm in my response. I had just told her what I hoped to accomplish. From the look she gave me, I was safe to assume that she didn’t appreciate the response.

  “Well, I’m hoping if I can narrow down that date, we can track the migration. We know they hid here long before settling Broadhaven. Whatever ‘great power’ our father is supposedly searching for might be found in those records.”

  Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but I was really hoping this hunch was right. Everything I had learned in Broadhaven had been nothing more than half-answers. No one had been able to tell me the whole story and I still didn’t know if that was intentional, or purely because they didn’t have the answers to give.

  “So you think they just left it behind?”

  “Maybe. If this power truly is our essence, then why not? You can’t pretend like you haven’t felt stronger here. You were the one who told me that you felt it. I have too. The second my feet touched the Island; I felt a change. Cormac believes we draw our power from the Island itself, but what if the Island drew its power from us?”

  What had started off as an effort to redirect my sister’s attention, had quickly turned into a revelation. A conspiracy theory that I’d been forming in my research. Something in all those hours of studying must have triggered the theory. Until now, I’d been unaware just how formed the thought had become.

  I waited with patience for her response. I wanted her opinions on the theory if nothing else.

  In her green eyes, I could see the idea swimming until it finally appeared to settle. Her conclusion, however, was not that I’d been expecting.

  I don’t know what I’d thought she say.

  Maybe that I was insane, that the very idea that the island drew its power from us was completely crackers.

  Instead, she took a very different stance.

  “Well, if you think that the information you need is there, why not take a trip back to Broadhaven?”

  I let my eyes shift from side to side in disbelief, letting the suggestion hit me before I tilted my head looking at her with the confusion plain on my features. Had she listened to anything I’d just said?

  “Pardon?”

  “Well, all you need is a good night’s sleep right?”

  “I-,”

  I didn’t know what she was talking about until finally, I did. I knew then I’d been mistaken. What I’d mistaken for consideration, had actually been plotting.

  Like father, like daughter it seemed, and I wasn’t the one who carried the connection.

  “You already did it once. You came all the way here in your sleep, why not try the opposite?”

  Great.

  She wanted me to use the same power that had landed me with the still painful mark on my wrist, the triquetra that burned black into my tissue that had seared with pain because of the protection spell on our mother’s pendant.

  “Because I still don’t know how I did that! It was- well, an accident.”

  For lack of a better word, it had been just that, an accident. I didn’t know how I’d traveled in my sleep; I hadn’t even known that was something I was capable of.

  “Finn we’re Witches, there are no accidents, only the Universe forcing our hand.”

  I raised a curious brow at her, considering for a second, that maybe she was right. Hearing her talk about the Universe amused me, she sounded awfully familiar. A smirk crossed my lips.

  “Okay, Múinteoir, that was awfully wise.” The teasing evident in my tone. “I thought I’d actually traveled back to Broadhaven for a moment.”

  It had sounded a lot like something Owen might have said.

  Her glare held steady, as did my amusement.

  “All I am saying is, if you did it once, you could do it again.”

  As if magic were truly ever that simple.

  Sure, maybe if I was a master of the craft, I could just make it happen. That was not the case. I was only just beginning; I had barely touched the surface in training. The world of magic was vast, and not everyone excelled in it. I could only rely so much on natural talent. Some things needed training and extreme tutelage.

  “I don’t know if I could do it again.” I hadn’t done it intentionally in the first place. I had woken up in pure terror and the experience had been draining. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

  It was then she motioned to the again like it was the answer to all of our problems. Ah yes, the book. The book of ancient magic, that had somehow disappeared from a house I’d only just been in weeks earlier. Thinking back on it now, I wished I hadn’t let Neely take me to her grave. Not because I hadn’t been glad to learn about her, but because I’d hoped for more time to look around the forbidden home before getting caught there.

  Well, I hadn’t actually gotten caught. I had practically turned myself in.

  “It would be as good a place to start as any.”

  She was right.

  Although my Gaeilge wasn’t exactly stellar, so half the battle would be correctly translating the text.

  As if she had drifted directly into my thoughts she asked.

  “How’s your Irish?”

  “I don’t know,” I started, “you would have to ask Google translate.”

  A girl could only be expected to learn so much in a few months’ time. The disapproval was clear on her face as she wrinkled up her nose in disgust.

  “Okay, I’ll look.” She decided, picking up the book.

  I sat back and observed as she began leafing through the ancient, fragile pages. The book wasn’t easy to navigate. Everything within its pages had been hand recor
ded, written down when it seemed necessary or important. It wasn’t exactly linear.

  “I guess there was no such thing as an index back then,” I heard her mutter, more to herself than to me.

  I sympathized, the few times I had attempted to study the book myself, finding what I’d needed had been next to impossible.

  We were at a disadvantage, both of us. We had started learning the language sixteen years too late.

  Another peculiarity we shared.

  Unlike our father, and Coven members before us, we had not grown up in this world. We had not been learning and translating spells from the moment we could talk. We were both playing catch up.

  Unfortunately, two amateurs did not an expert make.

  “We’re not going to get very far with just the two of us,” I assured her.

  She may have been better at the Irish language than I was, but she was still nowhere near skilled enough to translate the book with the ease, we needed to find this elusive spell.

  “What happened to the faith in Google translate?” She teased, and I rolled my eyes in response.

  “I don’t think we have the time or patience for that.”

  Typing every single spell into the application sounded like an excellent waste of time.

  “That would only get us so far. Besides I have a feeling a lot of this is older than Google translate can handle. We need an expert.”

  I hated to think it, but we needed one of the Coven members.

  An unnamed expert seemed like a logical enough suggestion. But, how could we go to some professor or language student and ask them to translate our magical texts without arousing suspicion?

  Izzy looked just as uncomfortable with the idea.

  “I don’t know. The texts are sacred to each family. I don’t think we’re supposed to consult outsiders.”

  I sighed trying to hold back my frustration with her answer. Even though I knew she was right.

  “That’s part of the problem. It’s exactly the prideful elitist crap that got us all into trouble in the first place.”

  Everyone had thought they were above one another. They hadn't been willing to share their knowledge. The downfall of many to benefit the few, wasn’t an idea that sat well with me.

  Her face hardened then; it was brief but unmistakable. It faltered seconds later, and I hoped that maybe, my suggestion had gotten through to her.

  “There is one person we know that we could go to.”

  She didn’t even need to say the name; I knew who she was talking about without her needing to continue.

  “No!” A firm no that I wouldn’t be shaken from. “Absolutely not.”

  No matter what my sister said about Cormac, I couldn’t bring myself to trust him. Sure, it would have been easy to go to Daddy to get all the answers I needed, but that defeated the purpose of my journey. I was trying to find my own answers without the influence of him or the Coven.

  I was there to learn more about my past, without their tainted views or prejudices. They only taught me what they wanted me to know, they only preached the views they wanted me to see. I wanted all the facts before I formed my own opinions.

  “If we involve someone who is not a member of the Coven, we are breaking tradition. You would be challenging a system that’s been in place for a millennium,” My sister warned me.

  “Yeah,” I agreed, “and maybe it’s time someone did.”

  12

  I had wound up winning the fight. So, I went to find the one other person here that I knew that I could trust, Keilan.

  Izzy had been firmly against having her at the house, so we met on neutral territory, Starbucks.

  It felt like an odd place to be pouring over ancient texts, but I knew it would have to do. Izzy had insisted on coming with me, something about not wanting to let the book out of her sight. I didn’t know what she thought I would do with her, but eventually, I gave in, warning Keilan in a text that I was going to be bringing a friend along for the meeting.

  We found a private table in the corner, as private as one could get in the bright coffee shop. Keilan bounded in not long after us, her confident stride and mess of dark curls unmistakable.

  “Hey.” She said happily, sliding into the seat opposite of us. “What’s up?” She looked at my sister with suspicion, a look that seemed mutual as they stared across the table at one another.

  “Keilan, this is my sister Iseult.”

  The two shared nothing more than a nod, the tense energy was starting to make the silence looming around us extremely uncomfortable. Even with the hustle and bustle of the coffee shop around us, it seemed like, for just a moment, we were alone.

  I cleared my throat to interrupt the discomfort.

  “Anyway…” Not my finest transition. “We need a bit of a favor.”

  “Alright,” her voice sounded hesitant and there was an undeniable hint of confusion there. “Though, I’m not sure what I have to offer two Witches.” She’s said the ‘W’ word in a more hushed tone in fear of any eavesdroppers.

  “Well, how’s your Irish?”

  It surprised me that my sister had been the one who had taken the initiative to ask the question. Keilan seemed just as shocked as her brown eyes widened with curiosity.

  “It’s fine, good even.” She had told me that within the pack, it was their primary tongue, so I had been hoping that I’d made the right call by including her in this quest.

  “Well don’t be humble, we need great for this.”

  My sister continuing to be her ever charming self with my friend had me close my eyes momentarily hoping to move past this tension with more ease.

  “Okay, I’m great then. Why?”

  “We are looking for something specific in a book, but we don’t really know where to start.” I finally chimed in. It was a bit of an understatement perhaps. “I think we need someone who can skim until they find the keywords we’re looking for.”

  I saw her eyes widen once more in surprise. The look clarified that it was not what she’d been expecting when I’d called her there for coffee.

  “There’s no one in the archives that could have helped you out with that?”

  Here rose the biggest challenge, we had to tell her that this wasn’t just any book.

  “Well, I’m sure there is but, this is a bit more-”

  “Magical.” My sister cut in. “It’s magical okay, so we can’t just ask anybody. So, we’re asking you.”

  My friend’s features carefully twisted, and I could see the shift as it all began to fit into place, her lips parting just slightly before she out a careful reply.

  “Oh.”

  ***

  Keilan had been pouring over the pages for hours and kept coming up empty-handed. Apparently, dream magic was the family’s specialty, but there appeared to be nothing about physically manifesting oneself somewhere else.

  “All these spells are mostly about entering someone else’s dreams. Either so you can see what they’re dreaming about, or so you can insert yourself into their dream. Still, it’s only an illusion, a vision.”

  I was already familiar with that particular gift, if you could call it that.

  “Whatever you’re looking for, I’m not sure that it exists. At least not in this book.”

  That had not been what either one of us had wanted to hear and with a frustrated sigh of defeat, I sat back in the chair before running a hand through my hair.

  “Great,” Izzy muttered, verbally mirroring my sentiments. Still, she seemed a little more disappointed that I might have suspected. As disappointed as I was, as defeated as I felt, there was a part of me that was truly relieved. My first experience hadn’t exactly been something entirely enjoyable.

  What I hadn’t said, was probably what bothered me the most. If what I’d done wasn’t in the book, then what was it? How was I able to manage this without a spell to back me up? The other spells she’d discovered rang familiar with me. These were things I’d already managed before, before even knowi
ng I’d had magic. For those gifts there was a paper trail, a family trait to fall back on. This didn’t seem to exist yet.

  “So, this spell, whatever we’re looking for, it doesn’t exist?” I asked again, just to be sure.

  If this was true, it begged the question of how this book had gone from one side of the ocean to the other without anyone noticing. I’d never really thought about how long Izzy may have been here, or whether she’d actually been following me the whole time. Had she been on my flight? Had she taken the book from the house the moment Nelly and I had left?

  So many questions were swarming through my mind that I’d grown oblivious to the conversation going on around me. That seemed to be happening a lot more frequently than I would have liked.

  Izzy was shaking my shoulder before I came back to them, my now dry eyes blinking a few times while I regained my focus.

  “Sorry?” I asked as I saw the two of them staring at me expectantly.

  “There’s nothing in here that could explain this. Your sister said there might be another book?” My gaze shifted to Izzy with surprise.

  “No!” She didn’t even have to say the words, to make the request. “No way. That’s not ours to take!” I argued.

  “Of course it’s ours to take!”

  Our voices had started to rise as emotions took control. We both turned our heads as we realized we were drawing attention. She leaned in toward me, hissing.

  “That book is as much our birthright as theirs! Why should an accident of birth, an issue of gender, be what prevents us from learning what our Cavanagh blood can offer us!”

  “That’s not what I’m saying!” The fact that she jumped to that conclusion nearly offended me. “I’m not saying it doesn’t belong to us. I’m saying that it belongs to our family. It belongs in the family home! Brendan, Declan, they’re our family too and I won’t rob them.”

  Not even for the greater good. I had my doubts, about Izzy, her intentions, whether I could truly trust her. Yes, she was my sister, by birth, by blood, but it had become clear to me that a blood connection didn’t necessarily equate to trustworthy.