Goddess Rising

by Alisha Ashton

  “So, I do this now?” Skye asked.

  “Yup. Right now.” Other-Skye answered.

  “Drostan!” Both versions of Skye called in unison.

  Drostan frowned and glanced around at his brothers before making his way out to reach them.

  “Why do I have the feeling you… both of you… are up to no good?” he asked suspiciously.

  “I need you to show me your memory of how to reach your tribe from here,” Skye informed him. “As close as you can recall of the land as it was around…” She closed her eyes and did the math. “…13 years after you and Taran were turned. That should be a good year.”

  Drostan frowned again, his eyes passing between the two Skyes as he tried to figure out what they were up to. “Why would you want to see our tribe after we were turned? Taran and I never went back there. It was far too painful. We did not even return to see how our families had–” His eyes widened when realization hit. “You mean to see them for us,” he breathed. His eyes widened further still as he gasped, “His sisters.”

  Both Skyes smiled that he understood.

  “I still owe him a wedding present,” Skye said with a shrug, only half-joking.

  Drostan let out an impressed breath. “That is quite the gift.”

  “I still need to practice traveling short distances before I can attempt the full jump,” Skye reminded. “I have managed a day without issue. Now, I want to try a century.” She frowned and, unable to let the minor inaccuracy slide, corrected herself. “Or rather, a few years shy of a century. If I pull it off – which, evidently, I do,” she said, holding her hands up to Other-Skye for emphasis. “Then I can be sure I know what I am doing.”

  Drostan let out a heavy sigh. “Is there any chance I will talk you out of this?”

  Other-Skye shook her head. “No, I still go. If I did not, I would not be standing here.”

  Skye squeezed the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes tightly. “This puts a whole new spin on ‘giving myself a headache’,” she complained. Turning her attention back to Drostan, she pointed out, “Look, no matter where I decide to go, I cannot interfere with anything of any real consequence. It is not as if I can go back to the beginning and prevent the first war. I cannot go into the future at all. I cannot save my family or prevent the Droch-draoidh from ever getting their claws on me. If I am travelling into the past and not changing anything big, it should be safe. I am already going to be making a trip somewhere. I might as well go to a time and place that benefits someone, right? If what I see can bring Taran comfort and peace, it makes sense to go there.”

  Drostan glanced back at his brothers worriedly. He could clearly see Taran glowering in disapproval even at this distance. Taran knew him well enough to read his posture, to know he was contemplating doing something of which Taran would likely disapprove.

  Drostan shook his head and arched a brow at Other-Skye. “So, you have been there already. Was it worth the trip? Did you see them?”

  Other-Skye grinned at how concerned her Maker was becoming. “I honestly believe putting your worries to rest contributed heavily to my original decision to come here… But to address your questions – I cannot say. It would spoil the surprise.” With a wink, she leaned over and whispered to him, “I will tell you after she is gone.”

  Skye harrumphed at that.

  Drostan chuckled. He offered his hands to Skye and relayed his memory of how to reach his tribe’s land. He showed her what he could recall of Taran’s sisters so that she would be able to recognize them.

  “Wish me luck!” Skye said nervously as Drostan and Other-Skye backed away.

  “No luck needed,” Other-Skye assured. “I have already been there. Enjoy it. Take your time to take everything in. You will still wind up back here just in time to talk to yourself.”

  Skye appreciated the reassurance. She waited until they were all the way across the field with the others before closing her eyes and calming herself.

  Taran was beyond confused by what he was witnessing, but he understood at least that Skye – or rather, the second Skye to arrive so far that morning – was preparing to travel again. He took an involuntary step forward. “Where is she going?” he asked in barely concealed alarm.

  “You will see,” Other-Skye answered. She gave him a sly smile as she added, “…someday.”

  Taran frowned severely at that and watched Skye’s form yet again dissolve into white light and vanish from his view. It was infuriating – watching her leave again when he had no idea what dangers she faced. No way to aid or protect her. He felt so utterly useless and confused by it all.

  Drostan looked to Other-Skye – now the only Skye present – worriedly. “When she returns from… where she just went, that will be when you returned earlier this morning? Her – your – next stop is back here?”

  “Correct,” Skye stated.

  Taran’s brow was creased when he finally turned to face her. His jaw was set, flexing tightly as he ground his teeth. He disliked all of this – being so far out of his element and the hopeless disorientation brought on by seeing two versions of his future mate standing together, one staying behind as the other left. How could he be sure of what he was seeing?

  “If what you say is true…” Taran began skeptically.

  “It is true,” Skye assured and rested a hand on his bicep.

  Taran was instantly thrown off by her touch. His features softened as he looked down at the place where her hand was making contact. Swallowing hard, he gave her a bewildered look.

  Skye gave him an understanding smile in return. “I know magic makes you uneasy,” she said softly. “It always will, because you cannot defend me from it. And I know that you are distrustful by nature. So, before you get your hackles up, let me assure you: I am myself. If you are at all uncertain, you can always ask Ciaran. Or Faolan,” she suggested.

  Faolan inclined his head in silent agreement. He was Maker to them all, inherently linked to the magic, and Skye was his child. It made sense that he had a heightened ability to sense her.

  Taran arched a brow as he noted that Ciaran, unlike their other clansmen, was similarly undisturbed by the morning’s events. He had barely batted an eye upon the arrival of the duplicate Skye, or her subsequent departure.

  Ciaran glanced over at Taran in confusion and nodded that all was well. He was surprised at first by his brother’s need to be reassured of this. But then, it was easy to forget that none of their clansmen shared his deep connection to her. Ciaran was still not certain what linked him to Skye, but he could sense the truth of what was happening. No words were needed. Both Skyes had been his Goddess. Neither was in any danger or attempting to deceive them. All was going just as it should.

  Taran did not understand any of it, but he knew that, somehow, his brother was certain. His gaze moved to Skye and slid slowly over her form, assessing her, surveying her body for any hint of damage. Skye stood up straighter under his scrutiny. She watched as his eyes took on the golden hue of his wolf. He inhaled slowly, and she knew he was scenting her as he listened to her heartbeat. He frowned slightly, catching a trace of something strangely familiar. Its presence confused him, and so he shook it off. His eyes returned to their familiar, steely gray as he spoke. “So… you have traveled intentionally not once, but twice so far. You appear to be uninjured. How do you feel?”

  Shallow versions of the worry lines so often worn by his future self were taking up residence at the corners of Taran’s steely gray eyes. Those were her lines, she noted fondly.

  “I am well,” she assured, giving his arm a squeeze before removing her hand from him. “Tired… and a bit drained, but I reached my intended destination and did not harm myself. As far as practice runs go, I would call this a win.”

  “You should rest to recover your strength. Come – let us get you to bed,” Ciaran urged as he took her hand.

  33: Autumnal Dreamscape

  “This is not training,” Taran stated in mild irritation the next morning.
“And you have already said it is not time traveling.”

  “But it is crucial, just the same,” Skye assured. She smiled over at him patiently before spreading out a blanket on the ground and sitting down on it cross legged. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and focused on relaxing her body and mind.

  Taran huffed impatiently.

  Skye opened one eye slightly, giving him a curious look.

  “‘Crucial’, you say…” Taran grumbled before declaring in a louder, more direct tone, “Crucial, yet you cannot even tell me what it is you are doing. Only that you will look as if you are in a trance and that I must guard you. You have failed to explain why we have ventured beyond the boundaries of Faol Seunta without a proper protection detail for you.”

  Skye pointed to the edge of the forest only a matter of feet away. “Taran, I have complete faith that you could throw me that short distance if it came right down to it.”

  “I do not like it,” Taran groused.

  “You have made that inescapably clear,” Skye sighed.

  “You also failed to tell me in advance that not even Faolan is aware of your plans,” Taran stated angrily. “I do not even want to consider the repercussions if he heard I allowed you out here. He already looks as if he is considering which of my body parts would regrow fast enough for him to tear them off without your notice.”

  Skye smiled at that. She had sensed Faolan’s lingering crossness over Taran’s prior missteps. It was also infinitely amusing to hear how uncannily Miko-like young Taran was when he complained.

  “That is a strong possibility,” she agreed. “Look, I know you do not like this, but it is something which must be done, or… well, at least, be attempted to see if it is even possible.”

  Taran leveled her with a look of extreme displeasure. “Did you say ‘attempted’? You are not even sure about what you are doing?”

  Skye groaned dramatically, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back as she griped in English, “I’m not sure about jack fucking shit I’m doing these days, babe!”

  Taran’s mouth formed a tight, angry line. He remained that way, scowling disapprovingly at her purposeful use of her indecipherable foreign tongue. He did not move a muscle until she answered him in Gaelic so that he could understand.

  “I… have never tried this before,” she grudgingly admitted.

  Taran threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.

  “But I need to find a way to do it, regardless!” she insisted. “And I must do it secretly.” Her eyes grew wide as she assured emphatically, “And, believe me, my only alternative means of accomplishing this would be far less to your liking.”

  The fact that she was attempting this in a dreamscape was bad enough. Meeting Brandubh in person instead? Taran would completely and utterly lose his shit. In that scenario, he really would pick her up and throw her happy ass back into the forest.

  She held Taran’s perturbed gaze for a moment before stating plainly, “If it was possible, I would have just done this alone. But I need to be beyond the borders of Sorcha’s spell, and once I start, I will be unaware of my surroundings. I will be completely vulnerable. That is why you are with me. I am trusting you to protect me.”

  Taran maintained his scowl, but his eyes softened ever so slightly that she was choosing to trust him at all.

  She could have asked Ciaran or Drostan, she recalled for the dozenth time. Either of them would have readily agreed to aid her in this. Drostan was already aware that this was coming. Ciaran would have simply trusted her judgment, sensed the urgency of her request, and asked nothing beyond how he could help. Taran’s utter lack of magic, however, made him far better suited for the task. There was no chance of him accidentally tagging along or gleaning anything from what she was about to do. If Ciaran had come instead, there was no guarantee he would not accidentally tap into what she was seeing and hearing, and that was simply not acceptable. Drostan posed a similar risk, and though she did not need to shield him from anything she might learn, she did not want to expose him to the potential danger.

  Taran was still glowering at her, looking unconvinced that whatever she wanted to accomplish here was worth the risk it posed to her safety.

  Skye gritted her teeth. It was hitting below the belt, she knew, but – in order to drive her point home – she said, “All right, Taran. I understand your hesitation. I can ask Ciaran or Drostan to –”

  Taran let out a growl of warning in reply, cutting her off right there. He gave her a stern scowl as he crossed his arms over his chest. “How long?” he demanded impatiently.

  She could hear the difference in his voice, but his eyes confirmed it. His stormy gray irises were quickly taking on the golden hue of his wolf. His instinctive need to defend her was bringing the beast dangerously close to the surface. She reminded herself of how young he was – how newly joined he was with his wolf. She could hear his heart pounding at the thought of her sitting out here defenseless.

  “I do not know,” she answered honestly. “Once I start, I will not be able to stop. I will not be able to hear you. I will depend entirely upon you for protection. Can you do this?”

  He grudgingly muttered his agreement.

  She smiled up at him gratefully. “Thank you.”

  “Be as quick as possible,” he stressed. His features softened a second later as he added, “And Sgitheanach… whatever it is you are up to here… please be careful.”

  She nodded and returned to the task of calming herself. For what she was about to attempt, she needed complete focus. She needed to go to a place far more frightening than any she could find in the span of eternity. She needed to immerse herself in the depths of her own mind.

  After a while, Skye lost all sense of time, of her surroundings and physical sensations, of Taran’s solid presence and ever-watchful eyes. Slowly, and with a great deal of concentration and effort, she managed to delve deep within herself.

  When she shared memories with Drostan, it always left her in a meditative state. This, however, was something deeper still. She needed to construct an entire world, use her power to sculpt and define every detail before she was ready.

  Finally, she opened her eyes to an autumnal forest dreamscape wholly of her own creation. The canopy above was a rich tapestry of gold, orange, and burgundy. Every inch of the ground was thickly carpeted by fallen leaves. Mottled sunlight slipped through the innumerable small spaces left recently bare. The branches swayed in time with a gentle breeze. Taking a breath, Skye found that the air was cool and crisp in her lungs. She marveled at how real it all felt. The forest was alive with the sounds of birds and other woodland creatures. A stream could be heard somewhere nearby. The subtle glow of her power emanated from every bit of the scene. Its presence gave the place an ethereal quality that made it even more breathtaking.

  Skye smiled in approval of her work. The world was perfect. It was a fall fantasy – one that would surely put her intended guest at ease.

  She looked down at her clothing next and focused. Her attire shimmered and shifted from the armor she wore in the waking world into a sleek, simple gown of form-fitting golden satin. Its glossy fabric rested atop the leaves at her feet. Her wild hair cascaded over her shoulders freely as a tall crown of intricately woven brambles and leaves formed atop her head.

  Satisfied with her appearance, she threw open wide the door within her mind and reached out for him in invitation. She did not have to wait long before she felt his curious stirring in response, then his cautious approach.

  Brandubh abruptly appeared within her realm at the foot of the hill on which she was standing. His echoed gasp announced his arrival. His bare torso and arms were jarringly white against the glowing, golden world around him. He was free of all decoration here. Gone were his painted mask, jewelry, and the shiny trinkets previously woven into his hair. He stood before her as a man, nothing more. And he was perfect. Mesmerizingly, painfully beautiful. Looking upon him stole Skye’s breath and brought involuntar
y tears to her eyes. Created by an eternal deity to serve as a lover and protector, his appearance was every bit as enticing as one would expect. Every inch of him had been sculpted to tempt, arouse, and please.

  Despite her involuntary reaction to him, Skye kept her expression as neutral and her posture as proud and regal as she could muster. She used her power to aid in giving the proper appearance. He was expecting a Goddess, after all – she intended to give him one.

  Brandubh gaped up at her in disbelief. Slowly, as if afraid to believe what he was seeing, he began his approach. His bare feet moved carefully over the leaves as he made his way towards her. Despite her nerves, Skye held steady. She refused to reveal her instinctual fear of him. Instead, she inclined her head encouragingly.

  Brandubh sagged slightly in relief at her welcoming gesture, as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Is Faolan here?” he asked softly as his eyes slowly scanned their surroundings.

  Skye’s brows drew together nearly imperceptibly as she noted that his words were heavy with cautious hope. She almost feared taking it from him, but when his gaze returned to her, she slowly shook her head. Disappointment flickered over Brandubh’s impossibly handsome features in response. With a bit of effort, he managed to mask the emotion.

  “Goddess…” he greeted reverently. He fell to his knees and bowed his head. “You are unknown to me. Adrift in the seas of time, and I… I fear you have me at a disadvantage,” he admitted, cautiously peering up at her from beneath his thick, dark brows. “You beckon me here… yet you allow your followers to drive me away as a threat in the waking world. I do not know where we stand. In your time, are you and I… friends… or foes?”

  Skye thought on it for a moment before replying truthfully, “I do not know. I am trying to determine that very thing for myself.”