You’ll do fine, but you’re going to learn more about yourself than you ever guessed. I’ll enjoy seeing what happens.
Great, I countered back. That feels like telling someone “May you live in interesting times.” More of a curse than a blessing.
Take it as you will, Esmara said. But there’s no getting away from destiny.
With that warning ringing in my ears, I headed toward the Aseer’s.
The Aseer lived in a small cottage on the shore of the bay. As I drove up, I was surprised to see that the high tide almost reached her front porch steps. That was probably why her house was built up on stilts. The foundation was well above the surface of the beach. Wondering just how sturdy it could be, I parked by the sedan in the driveway and walked out on the beach for a moment, to stare at the water rushing in.
The tidal influences were strong in the Salish Sea. Connected to the Pacific Ocean by the Strait of Juan de Fuca, the Salish Sea was a recent name given to the bodies of water that surrounded the islands off the coast of Washington and British Columbia. Those same waters flowed into Puget Sound, creating the massive waterway that fingered its way all the way down to the Tacoma area, and even down into the bays of Olympia.
As I stood there, the wind bracing me up with cool, chill gusts that whipped by, a flock of seagulls few overhead, their mournful cries echoing through the air. The smell of seaweed hung heavy in the air, but it was the smell of home to me. I watched the water for a while, feeling the waves swell up as they rolled onto the shore.
“Hello.” The voice echoed down from behind me and I turned to see a woman standing on the deck of the beach house. She might have been forty, might have been sixty, might have been almost any age in the world. She was what they called timeless. Ageless in that way some women have about them. She wore her years like a shroud, but instead of weighing her down, they surrounded her like a glamour. “Are you January?”
I nodded, shading my eyes as I looked up at her. “Yes, are you the Aseer?”
“I am. Come up. There will be rain soon, and the water can get testy when it rains.” She waited for me as I climbed the steps up to the deck, then followed her into the house. The entire wall that faced the water was made of windows and sliding glass doors, and when I entered the house and turned, I caught my breath at the spectacular view.
“This must be beautiful when it’s storming,” I said.
“It’s truly incredible, yes. In ten years I may have to move if the climate shifts too much, but until that day, I will stay here and watch over my beloved ocean.” She nodded for me to follow her into the living room. “Please, have a seat.”
She seemed far less imposing than I had expected, and yet there was something about her that warned me never to mess with her. She had power enough so that she didn’t have to keep it on display.
The living room was very beachy—with an ivory sofa, a blue wing chair, a driftwood coffee table and end tables. Even the console table standing against one wall was made of driftwood. I looked around. The place felt light and airy, the walls were painted pale blue, and the ceiling, a soft white. There were lots of crystals and shells around, but they didn’t feel overwhelming or kitschy. High over the living room was a loft, reached by a stairwell against the back wall. One archway led to the kitchen—I could see the table and stove from where I stood. Three other doors on the opposite side probably led to bedrooms and a bath.
“You have a lovely place,” I said. “It seems roomy, too.”
“It is, actually. It’s bigger than it seems because of the layout and open concept.” She headed toward the kitchen. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, please. I wasn’t sure whether to eat or drink before coming,” I said, settling down on the sofa.
“Here you go,” she said, returning with a coffeepot and mugs on a tray, along with a plate of cookies. “It’s not like having bloodwork done. Eating won’t interfere with the test.” She settled down and poured our coffee. “Cream? Sugar?”
“Both, thank you. Lots of cream and one sugar.” I looked around, wondering what to say. I didn’t even know her name beyond her title. “What…should I call you? I’m very unfamiliar with this. I left home without being tested and spent eighteen years ignoring my powers.”
“It’s a wonder they didn’t overload and blow your brains out,” she said, as nonchalantly as she might have said “Look at that water” or “Wow, it’s windy today.”
I blinked. “That can happen? I heard it can happen to spirit shamans, but I’m witchblood.”
“Oh, it can happen to those who are witchblood as well.” The Aseer sat back, crossing her legs. “As to my name, when I took the post of Aseer, I gave up my own name. Much like the druids and the post of the Merlin, the post of the Aseer is the title worn. So you may just call me ‘Aseer.’ It became my name the day the post was bestowed on me.” She smiled a secretive smile, then said, “Do you have any idea of how old I am?”
I shook my head. “You look…timeless. I really don’t have a clue.”
“I’m 470 years old. I was made an Aseer back in England, before I came to this country.” She paused, picking up a remote. “Do you mind if I turn on the fireplace? It’s a little chilly in here.”
I had no clue what to say about her age, so I just said, “Not at all—it is a bit chilly.”
She flipped on the fireplace and a long line of bright, cheery flames appeared. The heat rippling off of it was immediate and I slid along the sofa, toward the long modern fireplace.
“That feels good,” I said, closing my eyes. But a crackle of lightning startled me and I turned around, staring out the window as hail began to fall. “I love thunder and lightning,” I said, standing up and walking toward the wall of windows. “It always feels like it clears the air. There’s a clean feeling afterward, an energy that’s just waiting to be used.”
“You don’t say?” the Aseer said, joining me. We stared out over the water as the lightning danced from cloud to cloud, thunder rumbling shortly behind it. “What about windstorms?”
I shrugged, entranced by the lightning. “Windstorms can be fun, but they bring down the trees and I always start worrying about trees coming down.” I paused, then asked, “So, when do we start the test? I can tell you I’m a little nervous. I have no clue what to expect.”
“Expect only what comes, and don’t invest worry into the future.” The Aseer set down her coffee mug on a coaster that was resting on a side table. “The truth? We’ve already begun. You’re deep into my test now.”
Startled, I turned to look at her. “What? But you haven’t asked me to do anything.”
“Tests aren’t always about questions and exams. A test merely measures information. I’ve been watching your reaction to the water, to the lightning and the fire. I’ve been tuning into how those elements react to you. We’ll begin the formal session in a moment. I’m going to lead you along on a guided journey. I’ll put you under hypnosis, and when you come out, we’ll know far more.” She motioned to the sofa. “Take off your shoes and stretch out in whatever way is most comfortable.”
“My aunt warned me to tell you…Rowan Firesong is my grandmother.”
If the Aseer was startled, she didn’t show it. “Noted and acknowledged,” was all she said.
That she had already been watching me didn’t really surprise me, even though I hadn’t thought about it. I unzipped my ankle boots and set them to one side, then turned on my side as I lay down on the sofa so that I was facing the room.
“Close your eyes and take three deep breaths,” the Aseer said.
I did as she asked, letting the last one trickle out slowly.
“Now follow my voice. Follow my voice to wherever it leads you. You’re safe here, this is a protected space that is inviolate. Anyone you meet along your journey will be a safe contact—safe to talk to, to interact with, to show them your inner self.”
As the Aseer continued to speak, I found myself getting dozy. My breathing
slowed and the world began to fall away. Try as hard as I might, I couldn’t keep myself focused. Before I knew it, I was standing on a path, staring at a forest that rested at the bottom of the slope.
I stood at the top of the slope…
From where I was, I could see that the forest was vast, spreading out beyond my ability to see the end. It was dark, and moody, reminding me somewhat of the Mystic Wood, but I felt a pull to it and knew that I must enter. I was on a journey into the forest to meet someone who was waiting for me, but I wasn’t sure who it was or what they wanted.
I suddenly found a walking stick in my hand, and began walking down the grassy slope, staring at the forest ahead. The sky overhead was partially overcast, but the sun was peeking out from the edges, heading toward twilight.
You can make it any season you want… The words echoed in my mind and I decided to try it. I focused on the wind and the temperature dropped. Ahead, in the forest, the leaves on the deciduous trees began to turn color, shifting to glorious bronzes and reds and yellow. Like a filter rolling over the forest, shades of autumn replaced the green leaves, and the conifers of the forest became interspersed with the hues of early autumn. The air shifted and I could smell that certain tang that creeps in when autumn comes calling.
Before I realized it, I was at the bottom of the slope, standing at the mouth of the trailhead. It loomed ominous, darker than out in the open. Twilight fell earlier in the forests than it did on the open slopes. Taking a deep breath, I stepped onto the path. I knew I had to enter the forest, and even though I felt a certain sense of doubt, a veil of protection surrounded me.
The trail was smooth-going, with only a tree root here or there, or a fist-sized rock to bar the way. I easily stepped over them as I made my way through the trees. The sound of birds singing their evensongs filled the air and I stopped to listen, trying to pinpoint what kind of birds they were. As I waited, unable to make out most of the bird chatter, a low hooooooooooot echoed through the woodland and I glanced up a tall fir to see a barred owl sitting there, clinging to a branch. She—and I could feel the owl was a female—stared at me, and as I watched her, she let out another low hoot, but this time I could understand her. She was welcoming me into the forest. I raised my hand, holding it out to her, and she bobbed her head, her wide eyes almost aglow. As she did so, I heard a soft voice say, You may continue.
I passed by the tree with the owl in it, heading deeper into the forest.
Overhead, through the tangle of branches, the sky darkened into twilight, and the first hints of starlight glimmered overhead. The forest shifted, a feral sense creeping out on all fours, running through the trees, through the rocks and plants and bushes and animals. The woodland was taking on a sentience that had been asleep during the lazy daylight, but now it was wide awake and watchful.
“Why am I here?” I asked, my voice ringing through the air, ricocheting from tree to tree and echoing off the stones and the ground in a dizzying timbre.
Continue walking, came the reply.
Sucking in a deep breath, I obeyed.
As night fell, I began to notice tiny lights twinkling in the forest all around me. They shimmered from the toadstools growing on fallen nurse logs, from the tips of the fern fronds, from the moss dripping off the old-growth timber like ancient beards. The lights filled the forest like I imagined fireflies did. I ran my hand over some of the moss hanging nearby but as I drew away, my fingers were covered with sparkles and I gasped. Bringing my hand up to my nose, I inhaled the scent of magic—a heady blend of all autumn scents combined, like a potpourri of cinnamon and cedar and fresh rain and apple pie and bonfires.
“What is this?” I asked, hoping for an answer, but none came. Are you there? I asked Esmara.
I am with you, but I cannot interfere, nor can I give you any answers on this journey.
Relieved that at least someone knew where I was, I began to move forward again. The path seemed to be growing more difficult. It was harder to push on and while I didn’t feel tired, I felt as though I was trudging through a thick fog that felt like mud. And then, the fog was really there, and all around me was a wall of mist that arose, shimmering with the fairy lights.
I stopped, waiting, and then one light—a brilliant purple—detached itself from the mist and began to dance in front of me, moving forward.
Follow the light.
And so, I followed the light as it sparkled and rose and dipped and danced ahead of me. The fog began to thin out, and then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone.
I turned around, wondering where I was. There, to one side, was a beautiful pool—a grotto with cinder blocks surrounding it, and natural stone, and on one side was a place to kneel. Without asking, I knew what to do.
I walked over to the pool, and as I did so, my clothes vanished, replaced with a long silver gown. It draped around my curves perfectly, and the moonlight broke through the trees, surrounding me in light. I had never felt so beautiful in my life.
I knelt on the dais beside the pond and leaned forward, resting my hands on the outcroppings of the stone that seemed perfect for handholds. Then, as I looked into the water, a light shimmered within the pool, spreading through the sea-green water to illuminate it. I caught sight of my reflection and gasped. My features and my hair seemed to glow like the rest of the forest, and all around me, I could see the reflection of the moon and the stars, creating a backdrop so that it felt like I was hovering in space. As I watched, I felt an inner prompt and I whispered a chant that flowed off my tongue.
Reveal myself, unto me,
Show me whom I’m meant to be.
By earth and air, by fire and sea,
Reveal all, I beseech thee.
There was a pause, and then lightning filled the sky behind me, and the rumble of thunder rolled through me like an inner earthquake as the world split apart and I found myself on a high mountain, my feet grounded in the earth. I could feel the bones of the world around me, and I reached up to catch the lightning, which ricocheted down from the heavens to roll through me, waking every sense—waking my magic from a long slumber.
It was spring, and vines were wrapping around my feet, coiling up to hold me firmly grounded to the earth, and the grass stirred, and I could hear the blades whispering among themselves, and the trees began to sing as they woke from their long sleep…
And then it was summer, and everything was dancing as the earth renewed herself. The herbs of the garden began chattering and telling me what they were used for, and flowers rejoiced, budding out, spreading their seed.
Come the autumn, I could feel the trees settle down, preparing for their long sleep, and the harvest rolled in, as pumpkins were loaded onto trucks, ready for market, and the last of the harvest was tucked away to fill larders and shelves and the woods took on a quiet watchfulness.
And then winter arrived, and the garden slept, as the forests were cloaked in snow and silence, but still, the heartbeat of the earth echoed through the barren landscape, reminding us that she was built of bones and rocks, of crystal and roots reaching deep into the world.
For a moment, I thought I was done, but then the pool shimmered once more and as I glanced into it, a skull stared back at me. It opened its jaw and words whistled out on the wind.
Bones from the earth will speak to you. Spirits who were once blood and bone and muscle will seek you out. You will walk parallel to the road into the Underworld, for you can speak to the dead, and they will hear you and answer.
As the skull faded, I once again found myself standing at the edge of the forest, ready to exit, and there was Druantia. She reminded me of the most beautiful wood spirit ever to live, and she held out her hands.
“You are my daughter,” she said. “Could you imagine you would not be ruled by the element of earth? Go forth and plant your gardens and tend your yard, and find a way to make peace with the Mystic Wood, for you, too, belong to the woodland now. You are also a guide for the dead—they can speak to you, those beings
who were once tied to the soil. My daughter, you have found your magic. Welcome home to Moonshadow Bay, where you belong.”
And as her words faded away, I began to feel dizzy. Holding my head, I sat down on a nearby tree trunk, closing my eyes, and when the fog began to lift, I looked up…
…and found myself on the Aseer’s sofa.
I sat up, very slowly. Everything seemed different, and yet everything seemed the same. I had found my magic. I was bound to the earth, connected to the soil and the forests and the woodlands. And yet…I was connected to the Underworld as well. Feeling more at peace than I had in many years, I slowly smiled, and the Aseer smiled back.
Chapter Eighteen
“Welcome back,” the Aseer said.
I yawned. Blinking, I glanced at the clock on the wall and realized that I had been out for over an hour. “I’m sorry I took a nap on your sofa!”
She laughed. “Oh, you weren’t napping. You were out on the astral, January. You were a busy bee, I could tell. Well, did you find your element?”
I grinned at her. She knew very well what element had picked me—that I could already tell, but it was nice of her to let me start the conversation. I told her what happened.
“So, it seems as though the element of earth claimed me…but the skull…” I hesitated. “This doesn’t mean I’m…well…what Peggin’s friend is, does it? A spirit shaman?”
“No,” the Aseer said. “Being a guide for the dead is different. It means you can hear them and see them, but that doesn’t give you the power to send them over through the Veil. You are more of a medium, than anything, when it comes to the dead. You’ll be able to pick up on hauntings, and spirits. They can talk to you, if they choose. This would be ideal for a ghost hunter, you know. You should have a better chance of exorcising ghosts when need be, but remember—this does not apply to astral beings. It’s not the same as taking on a demon or any such thing as that.”
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