"We did it," I whisper.
Nymia gulps. "We did."
There's a bit of surprise in her voice. I wonder if she thought we'd never actually figure the spell out—that what we'd do once we'd learned it was a moot point.
"Come on. Let's try it for real."
My sister pulls her lower lip between her teeth, but nods. I scoot back, creating a little more room in the space between us, then call water up from the roots until a shallow pond pools. We both cast a quick glance back toward the heart of the sacred meadow, to the orange glow of Mother's eternal burn, and then back to each other.
No one's coming.
No one noticed.
For some reason, I'm still nervous.
"Nachtinn eoscu ma mhoin," I whisper. Water, reveal my wish. The surface of the water glimmers like a diamond refracting the sun, and then Erick's face appears. He's fast asleep with one arm flung over his head and a frown across his lips. Ru curls against his side, whining softly as his paws twitch. They both seem disturbed by the dreams playing inside their minds, but hopefully, they won't be for long. I look back to Nymia. "Ready?"
"We're just sending a message, a flower, right?"
I clench my teeth, but nod. The sky is already softening with the dull light of predawn. It won't be long before Mother pokes her head across the horizon, waking the earth with her fiery rays. I'll visit Erick someday, but now is not the time. I know my sister, and she's nearing the end of her patience with me. If I ask for too much too soon, she'll break.
"Just a flower."
Nymia nods.
I grip her hands, our bodies creating a circle over the water, and we whisper the portal spell. "Thi ma chrodhu ni gruon. Thi ma inim ni aoch. Salis otuich ma charpu sothoch. Lu eosgu ni mither, saolluor iges foar. Inn in emhichd ithir fioc mo traomhu."
Magic sparks on my lips like an ember landing on tinder, igniting to flame. My power sinks into the dirt, braiding with Nymia's, burrowing deep.
"Did it work?" she asks.
"I don’t know." I shake my head, then shrug. "Only one way to find out."
I call a red rose from the ground. When Erick told me they're a human symbol for love, I told him it was so very like humans to pick something with thorns. But now I think I understand. I didn’t know how much I'd miss him until he was gone. Now I long for him even more. Pain makes pleasure that much sweeter.
I break the stem, then take a deep breath and toss the blossom into the portal.
Plop.
The rose smacks the water with a splash, wetting my legs. The image of Erick disappears in the ripples as the magic collapses. I groan. "It didn’t work."
Nymia squeezes my fingers, giving me a hope I know she doesn’t feel, but wills herself to for me. "Let's try again."
It takes another five nights of biding our time and waiting to murmur the words until the quiet hours just before dawn when the entire meadow is fast asleep before a rose finally makes its way through.
I gasp when the flower disappears into the water. The surface doesn't ripple, doesn't move. The image remains smooth. A moment later, a red rose lands on Erick's chest.
Nymia and I clench our fingers, too afraid to speak lest we imagined it. The magic pulses between us, sinking into the portal and beyond, fused with a power we're only beginning to understand. It flares with our sudden excitement.
Erick sleeps on. So does Ru.
I take another flower and drop it through, grinning wildly when it reappears on the bed. Then I take another, and another, and another. One finally hits Ru between the eyes and he blinks as a sneeze works its way up his snout. He lifts his nose to release the blast of air, but then leaves it there, sniffing. After jumping to his feet, he circles round and round on the bed, smelling all the roses before pausing to bark.
"Ru," Erick grumbles with his eyes still closed. He reaches out with a hand, blindly nudging his hound. "It’s so early—ow!"
He must've hit a thorn.
Erick bolts to a seated position as he brings his finger to his lips to suck the end. When he sees the flowers, he gasps and looks up. All the weariness that's been lining his face for the past few weeks fades in an instant. All the gloom disappears, like thunderclouds at the end of a storm, broken by a bright ray of sun. He glows as though lit from within. I know he can't see me. I know the portal only shines in one direction. Yet, when his blue eyes search his ceiling for some answer to the question burning within them, it's as though they're staring straight into me, fueled by a fire I feel within my soul.
"Aeri?"
Nymia refuses to help me open another portal. We sent him a message. He knows you're alive. It's too dangerous. What if someone sees? What are you trying to do? Blah, blah, blah. I've heard all her excuses a hundred times over, but this is different. She's not breaking. And I'm starting to think she won't. I guess it was only a matter of time before she stopped giving in to my every whim, but did she really need to start now?
I try opening a portal on my own, but it doesn't work. I've gotten so far as to see a rose drop through, but it never appears on the other end. It vanishes into the void and I'm not sure where it lands—or if it even does. I need my sister. I need her magic. Mostly, I think, I need her support. She's always stabilized me and my unruly power.
Yet as the summer solstice draws near, my chances of convincing her dwindle. Every day, new faeries from other parts of the world arrive in the sacred meadow, flocking to Priestess Sytrene and filling our lands with more prying eyes. Soon, there's nowhere we can whisper without being overheard. There's nowhere we can sleep without another body close by. There's no space to practice magic without being seen. I stop murmuring the words for the portal spell. I stop even thinking them.
Erick, however, is another matter.
He's alive inside my mind. Every breeze brushing against my cheeks feels like the gentle caress of his fingers. Every deep roll of thunder holds his soft and soothing voice. Specks of blue turn into his eyes. Spots of red into his lips. In my dreams, he wraps his arms around me, holding me as though he'll never let go. In quiet moments, I find myself laughing at his stories, even as my chest aches at the thought of all his marvelous gifts now buried beneath rubble. When missing him becomes too much, I picture the way he looked at me, as though I were the center of his world, beautiful and wondrous and strong, and I know I'm powerful enough to overcome the obstacles between us.
I just hate that my sister has become one of them.
"Are you coming?" she calls from the base of the tree I've been perched in for most of the afternoon, a note of excitement in her voice. "The ceremony is about to begin."
I look down, surprised to find bright petals already woven through her hair and a newly spun dress made of calla lilies hugging her frame. I guess one of the other girls must've helped her. "Is it so late already?"
"You tell me," she calls back with a frown. "You're the one who spent all day staring aimlessly at the sky."
Was I? I hardly noticed. I thought I was staring into Erick's eyes.
"Come down, and I'll help you get ready. We can't be late."
With a sigh, I slip off the branch. Nymia wraps me in strong winds, softening my fall, so I land gently against the ground. By my feet, a sunflower bursts to life, climbing almost as tall as I am in a blink.
"Go on, spin," my sister orders as she plucks a few petals from the stem. I do as I'm told, circling round and round while she shapes the yellow strips into a flouncy dress. When it's done, she steps behind me and gathers my crimson hair into a loose braid laced with indigo forget-me-nots. If she's sending me a message, it's not one I care to hear. "The priests will be here any minute. Let's go."
She takes my hand and we run through the woods.
This time last year, the summer solstice was all I could think about. I dreamed of dancing with one of the boys across the river. I imagined forcing Nymia to do the same, just to see her cheeks go red. My thoughts were consumed by the ceremony, wondering what it would feel like to be
surrounded by so much magic, submerged in the glory of the Mother. We'd been fifteen and it was the first time we'd been allowed to go. Now at sixteen, I hardly care.
The sacred meadow looks the same as it did the year before. Priestesses in flowing ivory robes circle the eternal fire, dripping in flowers and metal finery, gloriously honoring the Mother, with Priestess Sytrene, the High Priestess of Summer, at their center. Behind them stand the girls-in-training, resembling living, breathing flame in their dresses made of marigolds and daylilies, poppies and chrysanthemums, flaring out like the rays of the sun. And behind them, faeries from all across the world who live apart from us, in touch with the Mother but without her gift of fruitful magic. Once a year, they come to feel her blessing, to bask in her might.
Last year, the sight filled me with awe.
Now, I'm frighteningly numb as Nymia pulls me through the crowd so we can take our rightful place with the rest of the girls.
We make it just in time. Not a minute later, a howling breeze rolls across the river, swirling with shadows and buzzing with power. The priests emerge from the darkness, shrouded in ebony robes. They fan out, filling the space between the priestesses and us girls, while the boys stand behind us, garbed in shirts and trousers made of black dahlias, obsidian leaves, and elderberry skins. They're the dark night that makes the day seem even brighter, just as during the winter solstice we encapsulate them, the bright spark that only deepens the surrounding shadow. The longest night of the year is for the Father, but this moment is all ours.
For the first time in days, I smile.
Nymia tightens her hold on my hand, and I turn to look at her, feeling the prick of anticipation as I meet her eyes. My magic hums. Another set of fingers wraps around my other palm and I clutch them, looking to the girl on my other side. I don't recognize her. She must have come with the visiting priestesses, but it doesn't matter. We're the same. Born of the Mother. Bred of the Father. Faeries with magic thrumming through our veins. Created for a higher purpose than ourselves. I used to believe that. In a way, I guess I still do. I just wonder if maybe my purpose is different from everyone else's, if maybe Mother carved a special path for me.
When the bottom edge of the sun dips below the horizon, Priestess Sytrene leads the chant. Soon, the other priestesses join in, then the priests too. I don't need to understand what they're saying to feel the power in their words. It washes over me like waves crashing against the shore. Magic zips up my arms then down again, a swiftly changing tide. I pulse back and forth, gripping Nymia, gripping the nameless girl to my other side. We're all connected and Mother's love floods through us, dashing from one to the next to the next in a dizzying circle that only intensifies as the light continues to fade. Dusk creeps in from the corners, but the blazing fire at our center grows. The flames grasp for the sky. As the last stretch of golden rays vanishes, we're lit as though it's midday, cheeks red from the heat of the blaze. Finally, the words shift to ones I recognize, a rare bit of the ancient language we've actually been taught, so our magic might add to the marvel and the maelstrom of the summer solstice.
"Mither, lu da bhuinnich, bodh mo gid thirriong istuich ges da tholguol imich."
Mother, with your blessing, I draw you in to cast you out.
I shout the words along with everyone else as even more power floods my veins, drawn from the soil beneath my feet, the air I breathe, the forests and the river and the wonder that is nature. With every repetition, we funnel more and more energy into the spell, and the flames crawl higher. I crane my neck until it aches, trying to watch the climb, but it's so bright my eyes spot.
Mither.
Mother.
Mither.
Mother.
Words and meaning and intention blend until I'm not sure what's spilling through my lips and what's running through my mind. All I know is magic and power and might. The force of the Mother burns through me, hotter and hotter, until as one, we burst.
My hands rip free and I fall back as though slammed.
The fire implodes as flames crash to the ground, turning to a molten cloud that swallows the entire sacred meadow whole. I clasp my hands over my heart to catch Mother's blessing and close my eyes as the ash washes over us. By the time I open them, only burning embers remain, twinkling like fireflies in the night, transforming the meadow into a sea of sparkling stars. When I pull my hands from my chest, two amber beads swirling with sacred fire rest in my palms, pulsing with magic.
There's only supposed to be one.
Before anyone can see, I quickly tuck the extra beneath the hem of my dress, safely nestled against my breast. What could it possibly mean? Erick's face fills my thoughts. Is the extra blessing for him? Is Mother sending me a message?
My hope swells until it bites, almost painful to contain.
"Aerewyn."
I drop my head to the side to find my sister's gaze, hoping she doesn’t notice the bewildered joy written across my face. If she does, she must mistake it for celebration.
"May the Mother's light shine on you," she whispers, holding out her blessing.
I take it and give mine to her. "May her blessing warm your days."
We open our mouths and swallow the little beads. They dissolve in our throats on the way down, melting to liquid magic that fuses with our skin, soaking us in Mother's might.
I roll to my feet, woozy with power, and hold onto my sister for balance. When I blink, the world is brighter. My heart lifts with the giddy force. I laugh for no reason at all and Nymia laughs with me. The sacred meadow fills with faerie joy, as bright as the sparks still hanging in the air. With the ceremony complete, we start to dance.
I latch my elbow through Nymia's and spin us around, until another arm twirls me away, then another after that. We link and twist and latch and whirl, over and over, so faces blend and the world blurs into golden shoots of sparkling faerie skin mixed with flame and magic. Ritual gives way to revelry as we celebrate Mother. Her love sings sweet music in our ears, a tune so infectious there's nothing to do but move the way she wills us. Even the priestesses surrender to the throes, dancing with the rest of us, losing themselves in the merriment. They've lived this night a thousand times, and still, the power of the Mother brings a smile to their lips and a skip to their step. It's nice to know that there are some things even faeries don't grow out of, no matter how long we live. Mother's majesty is one, and as I glance around, noticing the blushes on womanly faces and the sparkle in manly eyes, I wonder if love might be another.
I hope so.
After all, is it not another gift Mother gave us? Why else do I burn when Erick kisses me? Why else does his touch sear? Why else does one glance from his smoldering eyes make me want to melt into a puddle on the floor?
Mother is fire and life.
Mother is heat and heart.
Mother is love.
Mother knows all and Mother gave me her blessing, so I must do as the priestesses taught me—I must follow where she leads.
"Nymia!"
I take my sister's hand and pull her from the fray, tugging us both through the swirling mass of faerie bodies, and into the dark forest beyond. Only when we're crouched behind the wide trunk of a towering tree, out of sight, do I dip my fingers beneath my dress and pull the glowing bead free.
Nymia gasps. "Where'd you get that?"
"Mother gave it to me."
"But you shared your blessing with me."
"Mother gave me two."
"Why? Why would she do that?"
I swallow, preparing myself. "I think it's for Erick."
She flinches from my words as though they sting. "Aerewyn."
"What?"
"That's impossible."
"Why?" I demand, holding the amber bead in my palm, studying how the glittering depths match the magic in my skin. "Why is it so hard to believe?"
"He's human."
"So? Did Mother not make humans too?" I know what I'm saying is blasphemy, but now that I've started, I don't know
how to stop. All my traitorous thoughts come spilling out. "We treasure every creature on this earth, yet humans we scorn. Why? I don't understand. What if Mother is sending me a message? What if she gave this to me because I'm the only one who's willing to hear?"
"Hear what?"
"That humans deserve her blessing too."
"Deserve her blessing?" Nymia shakes her head, eyes bugging out with disbelief. "They scorch her earth. They cut down her trees. They eat her animals. They hunt beings like us, beings made of her might. Everything they do throws her world off balance. Why would she ever want to bless them?"
"Maybe it’s not supposed to be that way. Maybe things could be different." My voice lowers to the barest whisper, as vulnerable as dandelion fluff in a strong breeze, one gust from breaking. "Maybe Erick and I can make them different."
Nymia sighs. "You're just one faerie girl, and he's just one human boy. Do you really think you can change the world?"
"With Mother's blessing, I can try."
Nymia glances to the bead in my hand, wavering beneath my faith. "What exactly do you want me to do?"
"I just want to give him what Mother intended to be his," I explain, closing my hand around the blessing and pressing my fist to my heart.
"Like with the flowers?" she asks.
I nod so I don’t have to lie.
"And will this be it, Aerewyn? I'm tired of lying. I'm tired of hiding. I'm tired of being scared every time one of the priestesses looks into my eyes. I can't live with your secrets anymore. They're going to break me."
The pain in her eyes cuts me deep, fracturing my heart down the middle, splitting it in two. One side belongs to Erick and one side belongs to her. I'm not sure which is bigger, but I do know I won't do this to her again. It's not fair. "This is the last time, I promise."
Nymia takes my hand and draws a small puddle from the earth. Together we murmur the words for a faerie portal. With the added buzz of the blessing beneath our skin, the magic binds quickly, and the image of Erick asleep on his bed sharpens to perfect clarity. I look up into Nymia's eyes as I gently slip my fingers from her grip and hold my other hand above the water.
Parting Worlds - A Little Mermaid Retelling (Once Upon a Curse Book 4) Page 11