Origins

13. A Spell for the Darkest Hour

The creak of a door. A sliver of light.

Someone was entering my chamber.

“Hark!” he said, peering over the flame of the candle.

I sat up on the dirt floor. “Diarmuid?” My head was clogged from sleep, but indeed it was him, coming into the cell.

“Where are the guards?” I asked in surprise.

“They are blind to me,” he said as the door creaked closed behind him. “I cast a see-me-not spell, rather successfully, I might add. And those bumblers are spelled deep asleep.”

How could he joke at a time like this? I turned my face away, not willing to meet his eyes. “Have you come to gloat over my demise?” I asked.

“Of course not. I’ve come to extract one last promise. I was pleased by the way you held your tongue today, not mentioning my name. I trust you’ll keep silent till the end.”

I spun around to glare at him. “Silent!” I shouted. “Silence is the reason I am here! Why did you not answer my messages?” I stamped the ground with my foot. “Why did you not come forward to defend me and claim your child?”

He lowered his chin, his blue eyes abrasive. “How am I to know the bairn is mine?”

Furious, I took a swing at him, but he bobbed so that my fist caught only air. As I stumbled back, he caught my arms and held me in place. His eyes swept down my body to my breasts, my swollen belly. “And you thought I would claim your child?” he said with sudden disdain. “Knowing your wanton ways, you’ve probably bedded dozens like me.”

His words infuriated me, but my fury was checked by my revelation. The man standing before me was not noble nor true nor even kind. And he had never been the sweet perfection I’d glimpsed under the Goddess’s sky.

His pentagram dangled at his neck, glinting mockingly.

Suddenly I wanted to scratch out his glittering eyes and smite the grin from his pretty face. I did not love this man. How had I ever loved one who so cagily used me, took of my body and my heart, then abandoned me for dead?

“Get out!” I growled. I kicked at his legs, aiming high but just glancing off the top of his thigh.

Still, it was enough to scare him off. He released my hands as he doubled over.

Reaching out, I grabbed at his pentagram and pulled. He did not deserve to wear this! He did not deserve to pay homage to the Goddess! He made a little choking sound as it snapped off. With a feeling of righteousness I dropped the pentagram to the ground.

Diarmuid rubbed his neck. “You’re rather feisty for a condemned woman,” he said. “And I should be the one throwing punches, what with the way you charmed me. I found the rose stone in your pocket. Powerful magick you make. ’Twas lovely while it lasted, but love soon fades to lust and needs. And my needs are well fulfilled by my own coven.”

Fury burned inside me. “And Siobhan,” I said. “You have lain with her because. because ’tis the easiest path to take.”

He shrugged. “A man has certain obligations to his clan, and to marry a Wodebayne, I would have been falling short of everyone’s expectations. You truly caught my eye. Even when Siobhan undid the power of your charmed stone, my desire to take you did not abate. Even now. I long to hold you one last time...” He reached for me hungrily.

“In a pig’s eye!” I shouted, pushing him away. “Begone from here, Diarmuid! For our passion was not about lust nor favor! Did you not stand in the circle with me and summon the Goddess? Did we not pledge our love under her sky and promise to—”

“A witch says many things, chants many things,” he said. “Often we say words we do not comprehend. ’Tis part of the—”

“I knew what I was saying!” Hatred swelled within me as all illusions of beauty and goodness melted away from him, revealing a diabolical monster. I pointed to the door. “Begone from here before I have at you, for I swear, I will tear the hair from your lovely head.”

“Don’t you threaten me, Rose!” Diarmuid lunged at me, backing me against the wall. “For despite your powers with the Goddess, I have the physical power to overcome you, and aye, I am stirring at the very touch of you, wench!” His eyes sparkled deviously. I felt stunned, unable to move. Was it possible that this boy—this boy I had seen as the answer to all of my prayers—would ravish me by force?

I struggled to get away, but he only tightened his grip.

“I will have you, Rose, for who will stop me? You are locked in prison, completely alone. Do you think the guards will answer your cries? The pleas of a witch sentenced to die?” He pressed his hips against me, pushing me into the cold stone wall.

I felt sickened by his touch, furious at his determination to overcome me. And I had loved him! How had I ever loved this cruel, conniving beast? Feeling it was hopeless to fight him, I collapsed against the wall. He was stronger than I. I knew I had to summon magick, but my mind was wild and scattered.

Seeing me relax, he released my hands and lifted my skirts. “Come on, Rose,” he said, fingering my thighs. “I shall make it painful if you fight me.”

Seizing the freedom of my hands, I grasped his face and pressed my nails in, hoping to scratch his pretty blue eyes out. “Aye, then let’s make it painful!”

He gasped as my fingers penetrated his skin. His hands quickly encircled my wrists and pried me off, but not before I’d managed to scratch his cheeks. “Are you mad?”

“So they say!” I wrenched my hands free of him and backed away, rubbing my wrists. “But I’ll not spend my last night on earth being defiled by the lust of a lying coward.”

He pressed his fingers to his cheek and saw the crimson smear there. “You drew blood,” he said in horror. For a moment I thought he would weep with despair.

Focusing my mind, I held up my hands to ward him off. “Next time I’ll use dealan-dé,” I told him. “And if I had an athame, I would plunge it right through your festering heart.”

Holding a hand against his cheek, he sucked in his breath. “I cannot wait till the morrow.” His face was hollow and angular in the candlelight, a hideous, hateful specter. “I will relish the moment of your death.”

Before I could respond, he fled from the cell, leaving only a lit candle behind.

A lit candle. Fire of the Goddess.

Diarmuid had left behind the one element I needed to balance out my circle. I had earth, wind, water, air. and now, despite all the attempts of the guards to keep it away from me, I had fire.

My fists clenched, I stared at the flame as fury raged within me. I burned for all the Wodebaynes who had suffered injustice at the hands of rival witches. Fire raged within me for Diarmuid—not the fires of passion, but the fires of hatred and fury. I burned with vengeance for Siobhan, who had stolen my place as Diarmuid’s wife and sentenced me to death, who had tried to take my mother’s life, too. And above all I was afire with love and sorrow for the babe in my belly, the child who had been condemned before she’d had a chance to take her first breath.

Sweat beaded on my forehead and dripped down my neck. What was happening? Pressing my hands to my cheeks, I found that my skin was sizzling hot to the touch, feverish despite the cool night air.

A fire raged within me, a fire from the Goddess, and I realized she was summoning me to a mystickal destiny. What? I asked. Where shall I go? Which way to turn? I felt pent up and trapped, unable to commune with her. I needed to see the moon.

Glancing up at the thatched roof, I realized that I could probably reach it with the help of the one chair in my prison. I pulled the chair to the highest spot and climbed up. Aye, my fingertips pressed against the thatching. I pulled at the straw, tugging it loose. I would claw and scrape until my fingers bled if it meant reaching out to the Goddess on my last night upon this earth.

As I plucked at the straw, I thought of my purpose. I could not see my way to escape from my death or to save my child. But what of my legacy. my destiny before the Goddess? Would I be known only as a young witch who had feuded with a Vykrothe girl?

I recalled what my mother had said about Da, about his feud with the Vykrothes. Now, so many years later, I had become entangled with the same clan. Was that part of the Goddess’s plan? Perhaps my very purpose was to dismantle the Vykrothes’ power once and for all. I could not actively go after Siobhan, but I could place a curse upon her from behind these prison walls. One last spell, one final wave of revenge before she had me killed.

Bit by bit, the straw tumbled down to the earth. Then I yanked on a thick piece, and a fat section of thatching fell to the floor of the stone hut, making a crumbling sound that might have been heard by the guard if he had not been still asleep and snoring thanks to Diarmuid’s spell. When the dust cleared, I was gazing upon a dark patch of sky with a virgin crescent moon.

I came down from the chair and stood, arms up, in the sliver of pale moonlight. ’Twas but a dim patch, but I could feel its power lifting me to the sky. I no longer felt trapped. I was communing with the Goddess, opening myself up to my own destiny.

The air seemed to crackle with magick as I held my hands open to the Goddess. “Show me the tools and how to use them,” I begged.

In the candlelight the tips of my fingernails seemed black. Examining them, I realized it was blood. Blood and skin scraped from Siobhan and Diarmuid. ’Twas a powerful beginning, to have a piece of their body to place upon my makeshift altar. I scraped the dried crust from under my nails and placed it carefully on a clean tin plate left to me by the guards.

Staring at the scraps of Diarmuid and Siobhan, I began to feel the way clearly. ’Twas the Goddess’s will, this spell, and she lit my path.

“Sweep the circle,”came the Goddess’s voice. Or was I remembering Ma’s voice from one of the coven circles? “Sweep… sweep,” it called out to me, stirring my powers.

I gathered straw from my sleeping pallet and wove it into a small broom, which I used to sweep a circle inside the springhouse. Then I lit my makeshift broom afire and swept my circle with flames. The smoke burned my throat, but I breathed it gladly, wanting to cense my hair and skin with this powerful spell. Finally I left the broom to burn in the center and turned to the candle.

Carefully, so as not to extinguish the flame, I carved runes into the single candle that Diarmuid had brought. I spelled out the Vykrothe name, then wrote the runes for death beside it. Then I added runes for Diarmuid’s name, for truly he deserved the wrath of the Goddess for his betrayal of Her, his betrayal of me and my child.

As I set the candle down, I noticed Diarmuid’s pentagram on the ground. I picked up the gold coin and blew off the dust. ’Twould make a fine brand upon my body. If I was to go to the gallows, I would want to have the mark of the Goddess upon me and my child.

I built up the center fire with twigs and straw of the thatching. Blowing on the flames until the embers glowed, I knew what I had to do.

A spell to put an end to treachery.

A spell to destroy Siobhan and Diarmuid. To punish their evil. Mayhap this was the Goddess’s will for me—my destiny.

A spell to set the balance among the clans aright once again.

Casting Diarmuid’s pentagram into the flames, I felt the fever within me rise. Gasping, I threw back my head and cast my eyes upon the crescent in the sky. The fire within me was raging, my skin dripping, my cheeks burning. I slipped off my gown and stood naked in the square of light.

“I draw the power of generations of Wodebaynes into myself, merging with her power, the pure essence of the Goddess.”

Gazing down into the crusty blood, I said: “I have cast this circle to perform the act of vengeance that the Vykrothes have truly earned. I place a curse upon their feet, that they may stumble along the path of light and fall into darkness. Cursed be their wombs, that they shall fail to produce new offspring. Cursed be their warmongering hearts, that they will no longer beat steady and true. Cursed be their sight, that they shall never again see through the Goddess’s veil to her true beauty.”

Holding the tin of blood over the flame, I charged it with fire, saying: “As Siobhan lit a fire of hatred in this world, so shall her blood boil. Send her own malice, greed, and wickedness back to her—threefold!” I tossed the dried blood into the fire, and a sizzling sound issued forth. I imagined leagues of taibhs — a huge wave of them—rising up and sweeping over Siobhan’s pretty flaxen head. Black droplets of pain rained down upon Diarmuid, staining his sparkling blue eyes, burning his hair, sinking into his lovely cheeks. The black spells danced over them, blocking out all light until their bodies were a dissolving mass of darkness.

“This offering is for you, Goddess,” I said. “Cast your hatred upon the head of Siobhan and her Vykrothe family. Cast darkness upon Diarmuid and his cruel family. And if you have no evil to send, I summon the fallen angels, arbiters of evil! Use my powers to mete out this justice!”

The powers of darkness swirled around me. I felt buffeted by smoky darkness, mired in the pain and suffering that I was sending from my heart to the hearts of mine enemies.

Using a thick piece of straw, I fished Diarmuid’s pentagram out of the fire. I thought of the way Diarmuid had drawn pentagrams in the air. the foolish boy. His magick was so weak!

The pentagram had turned black with heat, but I reached for it. ’Twas time to brand myself to the ways of the Goddess, despite the pain.

My fingertips singed as I picked it up, but the pain seemed cool against the fire that raged inside me. Pressing the pentagram to my belly, I charged each point of the star.

“I summon the powers of earth,” I whispered hoarsely, “wind, water, fire, and spirit.” Pain brought tears to my eyes, but it seemed minor in comparison to the pain that filled me. The pain of losing my baby, of losing my life and love.

My pain must not go unpunished!

Kneeling before the fire, I imagined the wave of evil surrounding Siobhan, sucking her in, slamming her, crashing over her helpless body and swallowing the other cruel Vykrothes in its wake.

“I cast this spell for my baby,” I said. “For myself, and for every other Wodebayne who has ever been wronged. Goddess, sweep over the treacherous ones and let their own evil be compounded!” I felt a surge of power, a wave that drew me up, thrumming around me, buoying my body above the chaotic forces at work. I was rising up, hovering above my cell, above my own village and Ma’s cottage, above the Highlands. Beneath me were the soft greens of summer fields, the crisp dark crown of woodlands, the silver blue of lochs with the cool mist of evening rising up from them.

Wondering what held me suspended, I looked down and saw a wave of pure darkness. I was riding a crescent of black, a coursing molten liquid wrought of the blood of dead Wodebaynes, of my father and his father, of Fionnula and other tormented clan members. ’Twas my blood and my child’s blood, raging and thrashing over the Highlands—a river of evil crashing into the village of Lillipool.

Then, all at once, I was released.

I collapsed to the ground, weak and spent. I slipped into a dream state, feeling fires raging around me. Was my cell burning? Had I remembered to douse the burning broom?

I wasn’t sure, but I could not summon the strength to lift myself from the floor. If I were destined to die now, perhaps it was better at my own hand than at the hands of the villagers. What was to come at the end of this life? I remembered Ma speaking of death being rebirth. the Wheel turns and we move on to a new life. Would I find my baby in that new world? I hugged my belly, feeling the child kick. “I will be there for you,” I whispered tearfully. “I will be there.”

I am riding upon his shoulders at the seashore. Then suddenly we are here in the town square, dancing with torches like witches around the Beltane fires. Then I am on a seaside cliff, holding a soft bundle in my arms. When I open the flap, I peer into the face of my own baby. A girl, of course. She smells of honeysuckle and clover. But we cannot stay here. The ocean is rising from a storm. And suddenly the wave is cresting, taller and taller, over our heads. I must run to save her.

I lifted my head and reached forward, trying to grasp my baby. My fingers brushed the ashes of my ceremonial fire, and I remembered that I was in my cell, sleeping in my circle under a smoky gray sky.

I arose and slipped on my gown, struggling to fasten the girdle over my bulging belly. Throughout the night the shouts of villagers and the noise of people scrambling about had penetrated the numbness that gripped me. Now that daylight was flooding in through the ceiling, the smell of fire was thick in the air. How could the smoke from my spell linger so?

The door opened, and a bowl of biscuits was tossed in. “Here’s your milk,” the guard said, eyeing me warily as he placed the pitcher inside the door. “And don’t be laying a curse upon my head, for I am just doing my job, and I have three young bairns at home.”

I blinked. What was he blubbering about? But before I could ask, the door slammed shut, leaving me to my breakfast. I ate every last crumb, surprised at the calm that had overtaken me. I had resigned myself that my baby and I would be reborn together; that was the vision I would cling to in my last hours.

When the door opened for me to go to the gallows, I stepped into the smoky haze with my chin high and a small measure of courage. If Siobhan and the others were going to condemn me, I would not let them have the satisfaction of seeing that they had indeed broken my spirit.

I will see you when the Wheel turns, I told the child within me. How I will delight in the sight of your sweet face!

I followed the guards to the gallows, surprised that they did not try to bind my hands or manhandle me today. They did cast nervous glances, but somehow their eyes no longer held the utter disdain I’d seen the day before.

Arriving at the village square, I was surprised to see such a small group of witnesses assembled. I wondered at the scarcity of onlookers, especially when I had been such a spectacle the day before. And where was Ma? I couldn’t believe she wouldn’t come to be with me as I took my last breath. Kyra stood by the gallows, swathed in black. But Diarmuid and Siobhan were absent, as was the village reverend, who had been my chief persecutor.

I looked at the strange faces, wondering what had happened to my enemies. Had the spell worked? Perhaps Siobhan had been stricken down, unable to attend my execution. The thought offered some satisfaction.

As I walked up to the gallows, Kyra came up to me. “If I may have a moment,” she told the guards, and they stepped back. Kyra put her arms around me for a hug, and I wanted to cry, feeling as if she were the last person on earth who cared for me. I hugged her back, the sting of tears in my eyes.

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” I told her, my voice cracking with emotion. “They’ll persecute you just for knowing me.”

“I have lied to them, Rose, and they remember me not,” she whispered in my ear. “As I stand here, the guards think I’m a preacher’s daughter from a village to the north, come to speak the word of the Christian God to a condemned prisoner.”

I sobbed, afraid to let her go.

“Don’t look down,” she whispered, “but I’m pressing a charm into your hands for protection. Amber. I charged it myself.” She winced, adding, “I hope it works.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, pleased that Kyra was working her own magick at last. “You are the only one who’s come to say good-bye.”

“Many did not survive the night.” She frowned. “It seems there was a terrible fire in Lillipool last night. That is why smoke hangs in the air.”

“A fire?” I tried to tamp down my curiosity. What had my spell done?

Kyra nodded. “Nobody was present to see the flames, only the ruin left in its wake. It appears that it swept through the village, then leaped to neighboring cottages in the countryside. I. I’m afraid Diarmuid was lost in it.”

I blinked, feeling no sense of loss. ’Twas a marvel how drastically my feelings for him had changed, yet Diarmuid was the reason I was here. I rubbed my eyes, wondering if the fire had been the result of my spell. “What of Siobhan?” I asked.

“She died, as did her whole family and Reverend Winthrop, who was celebrating with them. The Highlands have never seen such an act of destruction; ’tis no doubt the fury of the Goddess.” Kyra narrowed her eyes, studying me curiously. “So you do not know anything of this?”

“Is that what people think?”

“Some say you cast a spell in your fury over being condemned to die.” She nodded toward the guards. “That’s why they are so afraid of you today.”

I turned toward the guards. One of them caught my eye and turned away quickly, as if he could avoid a curse by keeping his back turned. And with Reverend Winthrop gone. who would see to it that my sentence was carried out? These cowering guards?

The winds of fate had shifted, and I could feel the power of the Goddess swirling around me.

I was not going to die. I knew that now.

“So my spell worked,” I said, loud enough for everyone in the square to hear. ’Twas a strange thrill to speak of witch matters before the Christian villagers. Heads snapped toward me in fear, and I smiled. “Yes, the fire was my doing. I used all my powers to punish the evil. They not only persecuted me, they acted on their hatred of my clan every day. They’ve been persecuting Wodebaynes for years!”

The few people assembled in the square began to disperse in fear. One lady hitched up her skirts and quickly ran off. Two men meandered toward the church as if they were taking an afternoon stroll.

I swung toward the guards, wondering if I would need to shoot dealan-dé to scare them off.

“Don’t curse us!” one of them said, covering his face with his hands. “We mean you no harm!”

“I thought you were about to hang me?” I asked.

The heavyset guard shook his head. “We’ll not lay a finger on you, as long as you promise not to practice your sorcery on us.”

“All right, then...” I cast them a fierce look. “Begone, before I turn you into toads or peahens.”

They hurried off, not even looking back. I crossed my arms over my belly, aware of the tingling power inside me. My spell had worked. I knew I should feel jubilant—elated! Instead, I felt only a compulsion to leave the scene of my trial.

“By the Goddess, I cannot believe I am walking away from my own execution,” I said as Kyra and I strode through the town. I was beyond feeling relief as I walked stiffly down the lane.

“So you really did cast a spell?” she asked wonderingly.

“Indeed, and by the grace of the Goddess, she fulfilled it.”

“Many say it wasn’t the Goddess,” she said quietly. “Some say it was dark magick. A huge taibhs.”

I sighed. “Let their tongues wag. The spell I cast was just a return of all the evil Siobhan had sent my way, threefold.”

Kyra nodded, but I could tell she wasn’t convinced. Let her be, I thought. She had always been näive. Someday she would understand.

As I walked home, I was surprised at the respect paid me by passersby. A man with a cart offered me a ride, and two passing ladies actually bowed before me. I knew they had heard of the fires, which had quickly turned me into a local legend, it seemed. I had always known of my powers, but for once it was nice to have others acknowledge my gifts.

When I reached the cottage, I found Síle sitting at the table, staring off at nothingness.

“Are you all right, Ma?”

She looked up at me, startled, as though she were seeing a ghost. Slowly she shook her head, pointing a finger at me. “My fury and disappointment know no bounds. Have you any idea what you have unleashed?”

“ ’Twas a spell,” I said simply. “A spell against my persecutors—those who would have taken the life of my baby!”

“No evil action deserves the black magick you conjured. I have never seen anything like it—never! You have caused a split in our coven, some arguing that you created the spell in your own defense. But they are wrong.” My ma tried to sniff back tears. “You have created a horrible evil, Rose. Your spell ushers in the advent of a very dark time. A terrible reign of darkness! I have seen it!” Her voice broke in a sob, and she rested her head in her hands, shaking.

I folded my arms, unable to comfort her. “You make it sound as if I were a selfish child. I did not create the spell just for myself. I was acting for all Wodebaynes. This is the type of vengeance our clan needs.”

Ma shook her head. “No, Rose. There is nothing anyone could have done to warrant this horrible violence. You didn’t only hurt Siobhan—you destroyed her entire family! Her entire coven! And all of the villagers of Lillipool—Vykrothes, Leapvaughns, and Christians alike. You burned little children and women expecting bairns, like yourself.”

“I didn’t. I didn’t mean for that to happen, but—”

“Oh, dear Goddess!” Síle wailed. “How could my daughter, my own flesh and blood, be capable of such evil?”

I sat down on my bed in disbelief. She didn’t understand, and I didn’t have the strength to enlighten her. I did not enjoy seeing her in pain like this, though I truly thought she was being overly dramatic.

“It must be Gowan’s blood,” she muttered. “Your actions make it clear. The evil must have started with him, dabbling in dark magick like a foolish child who knows no better. The man always did want to take the easy road. He must have planted the seed of evil, and now you’ve nurtured it.” She took a deep breath and collapsed into sobs once again.

“ ’Tis not so,” I said, touching her shoulder. “In time you will understand—”

“I will not!” Ma winced, pulling away from me. “Time will not heal this wound, Rose, and you may not remain under this roof for even a single night.” She steeled herself, fixing me with a scowl. “You are not my daughter anymore. I do not care where you go, but I never want to see you again.”

Beneath my overriding numbness, I felt the last vestige of hope crushed within me. My mother was abandoning me. My baby and I would have no one in the world, no safe harbor. Only each another.

My mouth felt dry as I moved about the cottage, gathering up my meager belongings. How would it feel never to return here? To have no one to watch over me, to console me over night visions? No one to see that I got enough to eat or had a place to sleep? No one to teach me new spells? No one to help me care for the coming child? Fear tightened my chest at the prospect of walking out the door. fear and dread. My mother was the last vestige of my old life, and I longed to cling to her.

But I had no choice. Ma would not have me. She watched me pack like a hawk waiting to pounce.

When I had everything in a satchel, I turned to her. “I’ll say good-bye,” I told her, “but surely we will meet again?”

She turned her head away and staved me off with one hand. “I cannot bear to lay eyes upon you,” she said. “Just begone!”

Swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat, I stepped out the door and ventured into the woods. I had nowhere to go but my sacred circle, and even that seemed tainted by the hands of Diarmuid. Still, I swept the circle and raised my hands to the Goddess.

“I have a need that must be met,” I said. “I beg You, Goddess, that I obtain a home, a place to live for me and my babe to come.” I stood there under the hazy sky, wondering where I would go. “Goddess, I know You do not intend for me and my child to starve.”

I thought of my mother, cursing her weakness. “She has never understood my powers, Goddess.” I had always believed that someday I would inherit Ma’s stature as high priestess of our coven. but now it was not to be. “Perhaps it is envy,” I said aloud.

But there was no one to answer. Letting my hands drop to my sides, I realized that this circle had truly lost its magic for me. I packed my tools in my satchel, then set fire to my broom. I swept the wide circle with the flaming broom, wiping it all away. The Goddess would no longer visit this part of the woods. The magick was now gone from the stone altar, the green moss, and the tree that had once served as a Beltane maypole.

Once the circle was broken, I took my satchel and walked down the road. I decided to walk to Lillipool to witness the harvest of my spell. I walked as if in a daze until I reached a section of the woods that was now charred black and nearly empty, as if the trees and cottage there had simply melted into the earth.

I paused, pinching my nose against the smoking ash. What had stood here? I could not remember. I pressed closer, realizing that the striated rows of ash were charred skeletons. Three skeletons pressed against a door. Had they been unable to escape in time? I pressed my hands to my mouth, horrified at the thought. To imagine a sudden fire, the choking smoke, the need to get out before the flames swept over you.

Closing my eyes, I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sting in my throat. ’Twas destruction at the hands of the Goddess, I told myself, and she smites evil. These villagers may have been nothing to me, but surely they were evil?

I didn’t feel ready to see more, yet I felt compelled to walk on, past yet another and another scene of the fire, now merely a blackened square upon the earth. When I reached the river, I had a vague sense that the mill had once stood here, with cottages all around. But now I stood amid a smoky landscape of embers, an endless horizon of ash and blackened earth.

“So mote it be,” I said aloud to ward off any doubts I had over the devastation surrounding me.

Down the lane of ashes I saw the charred skeletons of three children lined up, as if prepared for burial rites. I thought of the children I’d seen playing in the dusty square when I’d come to Lillipool to see Diarmuid. A pang of regret tightened in my breast, but again I told myself ’twas the Goddess’s will. Were not these children being groomed in the bigoted ways of their clans?

I moved toward the center of what was once Lillipool. The charred skin of a man’s hand reached out from a fallen window ledge, though there was no body to be seen. Stepping around it, I shuddered and rubbed my belly. “ ’Tis a gruesome sight,” I said aloud. “But surely he was an evildoer.”

Even the dusty village square had been transformed to thick, dark ash. Ashes of bones and buildings, embers of my enemies’ dreams and hatred.

So much hatred.

Yet I could feel neither jubilation over the success of my spell nor sorrow for the lives lost upon this doomed patch of the Highlands. The Goddess had pushed me beyond feeling, beyond tears.

Walk. Breathe. Rest. My strength was focused on the simplest matters right now, the need to survive and care for my baby. See here the fruits of your spell, the Goddess was telling me. Witness and learn, for the destruction wrought here is the result of your summons.

Near the river sat a row of buildings that had not completely burned, but only collapsed into ash. Mayhap the people in them had used the water of the river to fend off the fire? I stepped near one sagging doorway and peered inside. The bodies here were not completely charred, and perhaps they were worse for their rotting stench, their distinguishable features. Was that the tinker? And the children.

I turned away, wanting only to see the corpses of those most deserving.

I walked into a tangle of smoking embers that I thought to be Diarmuid’s cottage. Kicking at a gray ashen stump, I thought of the hungry look in Diarmuid’s eyes the night before. His denial of our love, his retreat from the Goddess’s plan. Goddess, please grant me that my child will not have those eyes, those lustful, glittery eyes.

The ash below my shoe crunched apart, lowering me into a burning ember. I stomped out the heat, then noticed two skeletons, their charred limbs entwined.

Could it be Diarmuid and. and Siobhan?

Was this the spot where they had died?

I climbed over the ashes to study the skeletons. A gold ring was still wrapped around one of the charred finger bones—Diarmuid’s ring. I pressed my lips together, feeling a sting as I understood that the burned girl was Siobhan.

’Twould be the last time she hurt me.

I reached down and snapped the ring off Diarmuid’s charred finger bone. I would save it for my child. “I won’t tell your daughter the truth about you,” I told him, then thought better of it. How many years had I tried to pry the truth about Da from Ma? “Or mayhap I’ll tell her everything. every sordid detail of your weak and cowardly character.”

I laughed, realizing that Diarmuid no longer had any power in this life. Lifting my gown, I gazed upon the marking that I had branded on my belly. The pentagram was there, inverted. I blinked in awe. I had branded it so that I could look down and see it—but that meant the star shape was actually upside down upon my belly. An inverted pentagram was a legendary symbol for the harnessing of evil, though I’d never before used it.

I pressed Diarmuid’s ring against my own inverted marking. Somehow it brought me a dark pleasure, and I was glad to feel something even if it was a bitter end.

“ ’Tis your heritage,” I told my child. “The inverted pentagram, the dark spell, the dark wave, the origin of our redemption. This will be the spell I pass on to you to protect you and yours for all time.”

The babe gave a hearty kick, and I lowered my gown. ’Twas time to rest, but I could not find comfort here in this landscape of charred ruin. I tucked the ring into a satchel on my belt and moved on.

Instead of heading back to my own village, I kept going east, past the burned bog and heather that had surrounded Siobhan’s house. I paid no homage to the smoking remains there as I walked past, my sights set on a distant village where I might find lodging at an inn.

I came to a fork in the road and decided to continue east, to the place where the sun rose. Just beyond the fork someone called my name. I turned to find Aislinn waving at me, her red hair flying as she ran to catch up with me. Her energy seemed jarring in the silent woods, the site of so much recent destruction.

“Rose! Rose! It was you, wasn’t it? Did you see the ruin?” Her face was lit with a predatory smile. “Your spell wiped them out, the whole lot of them! By the Goddess, we really showed them! It will be a long time before anyone else crosses a Wodebayne.”

I rocked back on my heels, weary but relieved that Aislinn understood.

“You must be filled with wonder at what you’ve accomplished.”

“I can’t say that I am,” I admitted, wishing that I could summon some emotion.

“Well, then I am proud on your behalf,” Aislinn said. “Your dark wave of a spell has put an end to our persecution. You have altered our fate, Rose. Nevermore will we be downtrodden, nevermore the outcasts.”

“My ma does not agree,” I said. “She’s banished me from our coven.”

“Síle is a foolish woman,” Aislinn said. “She has no vision, no courage. Did you know that many of us had already abandoned her coven, long before last night? Coveners were tiring of Síle’s failure to take action. We’ve begun to have our own circle in the woods east of here, near a village called Druinden. Though sometimes we flounder. We haven’t really found a high priestess with the power to summon the Goddess.”

“Really?” I felt bolstered by this news. Perhaps I had not been abandoned as I’d thought. Perhaps it was Síle who was wrong. Perhaps she had been denying the ways of the Goddess, and that was why I was here traveling down this unknown road with barely a stitch to my name.

“Is that where you’re headed?” Aislinn asked. “Druinden?”

“I suppose, if I can get a room at the inn there.” I felt awkward revealing myself to Aislinn, yet I suspected she knew my entire story already. “I’ve not only been banished from the coven, but also from the cottage. And. you probably know, I’m with child.”

“Don’t even think of the inn!” she insisted, her face flushing with pride. “You must stay with my sister and me! It’s my father’s cottage, but he’s off at sea most of the time. And you mustn’t worry about the bairn. The Goddess will provide. Especially if you decide you want to be high priestess of the new coven. Of course, the others must agree, but how could they not see your power? The whole village of Druinden knows of the dark wave. I’ll wager everyone from here to Londinium knows. That spell has made you the high priestess of the Highlands.”

I hardly felt like royalty, shuffling down that long road upon my aching feet. At the moment all I wanted was a place to rest and a pitcher of water to wash the smell of death from me. Wash away the soot, and the grime, and the bitter memory of betrayal.