Her tall stature—even for the abnormally tall race—made her an imposing sight. A gown of plated bark adorned her body; the preferred uniform of her species and a symbol of their close attachment and dependency upon nature. Beneath her gown, a selection of her weapons—mostly daggers and vials of poisons—were strapped to her gangly legs. One vial had already found its new home inside the stomach of one of her intended challengers this evening. The recipient, an obnoxious young wendigast whose aspirations far reached beyond her capabilities, likely lay in the bushes somewhere out of sight, frothing at the mouth, an immortal no longer.
Tonight’s celebration marked a change of power, the position of High Witch shifting from one leader to another. After Thanatosia met her premature demise the previous week, under circumstances that could only be considered highly suspicious, Hyacinth would be crowned the new leader. There were no other daughters to contest her, and any suspicions over Thanatosia’s death were not spoken of.
Hyacinth had not grieved her late mother’s passing, nor did anyone expect her to. Any sign of weakness was intolerable amongst the long-living race and would be considered especially dangerous for a new leader trying to establish her seat of power.
Nearby, two ancient crones were tasked with keeping the bonfires controlled with their giftings. Fire to warm and inspire, but not to burn. If left unchecked, the fire would be devastating for the part-tree spirit race. But the element of danger also enhanced the excitement of the event, especially amongst the younger wendigast.
The energy was electric amongst witchlings; those witnessing their first Beltane gathering with their clan. Many were eager to see how the events of the night would unfold, as it was likely the first and last ascension many wendigast would witness in their lifetimes. Many wendigast lives were not as long-lasting as that of the Royal bloodline.
The power had shifted from Thanatosia to Hyacinth, of that everyone was sure. However, tradition demanded that any who wished to challenge the new ruler’s seat of power may do so at her ascension. As new leaders were appointed so rarely, Hyacinth was sure that more than a few were eager to challenge her this night, and for that reason, she kept her wits about her. Not a drop of wine had reached her lips. Her potential opponents could not say the same. Of all gathered, only the witchlings, Hyacinth’s personal guards, and her Lady’s Maids were free of liquor’s influence.
A horn sounded, and the wendigast halted their dancing and revelry. The time had come for the new Queen to ascend.
Hyacinth rose gracefully from her perch atop the boulder, eight of her personal guards appearing by her side as if summoned on a phantom breeze. A show of such force was not needed for the leader’s protection, for she was more than capable of protecting herself. Their presence, however, was a demonstration of strength, promising a quick death to anyone threatening to challenge Hyacinth’s reign.
As Hyacinth approached the center of the gathering, her bark-plated skirts rustled against the first green grass of spring, her wisplike hair trailing behind her. She climbed upon a stage erected between the two main bonfires, her guards falling into line around her, creating a barrier at the base of the tower. The witchlings whispered amongst themselves as their excitement grew. Snickers from Hyacinth’s enemies failed to unruffle the future High Witch, who was never without a trick up her sleeve.
The clan’s Priestess, Cyrene, the correspondent between the Goddess of Blood and Bone and the wendigast, hunched over her engraved, red wood cane, her eyes the color of a raging storm. Upon the Priestess’s gown of plated bark, a thousand years of built-up moss had grown. Insects and spiders had made their homes amongst her skirts. Her cobweb-like hair was so matted, not a single strand was distinguishable amongst the rest. But Cyrene paid no heed to her appearance, her focus solely upon fulfilling the role entrusted to her by the Dark Goddess herself.
Hyacinth did not bow before the Priestess, as no Queen would ever bow before a subordinate, though she gave a respectful nod in reverence for the role she would play in tonight’s ceremony.
“Tonight, we are gathered as the Goddess has demanded to appoint our new leader,” Priestess Cyrene declared. “The Dark Goddess of Blood and Bone approves of Hyacinth’s rise, but as tradition demands, let any who oppose this ascension step forward and claim your right to challenge her reign in the form of a battle to the death.”
Suspense and excitement built as more than ten wendigast approached the base of the stage and unsheathed their weapons, declaring their intentions.
A crone dressed in fighting leathers, who went by the name of Shakara, boldly approached the stage stairs, close enough to share breath with Hyacinth’s head guard.
“I challenge you, Hyacinth!” Shakara declared, for despite her age, she was strong, powerful, and still stood a chance of defeating the wendigast heir.
Hyacinth’s grin grew. Her jagged teeth gleamed as she approached the edge of the stage and stared down her opponent.
“I would expect nothing less from you… Shakara. But heed my warning, I have no intention of losing my seat of power today or ever,” the future leader proclaimed.
Hyacinth tilted her head to the side, sizing up her prey, but she made no attempt to reach for her weapons. Instead, she stared knowingly towards her age-old opponent and chanted an ancient phrase under her breath.
Shakara dropped her weapons immediately, her skin paling. She reached for her neck, suddenly unable to breathe, but it was over before it began. She began frothing at the mouth just as her body dropped to the floor, shuddering as her powers drained from her body, her lifeforce leaking out and returning to the ground. Her soul transported to the realm of the Goddess of Darkness, where she would officially await her eternal judgment, before being entrusted into the Goddess of Blood and Bone’s care in The Pits of Moor for all eternity.
The Pitts of Moor is the opposite of The Land of Milk and Honey for depraved souls such as the wendigast. An eternal resting place for departed souls with sinful natures, craving depravity. The Dark Goddess’s realm is a place where wicked souls are free to realize their full, sinful potential without reproach.
Smirks turned into angered hisses as the other challengers took in their fellow competitor’s fate.
“How dare you!” One of the challengers seethed as she stepped over Shakara’s lifeless body, trying to push past Hyacinth’s guard and take on the future ruler in combat.
Before the next challenger could take one more step towards the top of the stage, Hyacinth mumbled her incantation again and the next bold witch slumped dead upon the stairs.
Hyacinth raised her head proudly and stared down her nose at the remaining competitors.
“I will not be defeated. Heed my warning. Lay down your arms or you will meet the same fate as our dark sisters,” Hyacinth brazenly declared.
Hyacinth could have given her challengers more than a moment to reconsider their opposition and drop their weapons before delivering their punishment. But as she knew all too well, fear invoked power.
“FACTOREM OCCURSUM TUUM!” Hyacinth bellowed.
At the foot of the stage, not only the remaining challengers, but all who had been known to oppose Hyacinth’s reign, met their swift demise. Crumpling to the floor in a wave of death, hundreds of wendigast met their premature ends. If the fools had been more wary, they would have noticed the slight tang of the magical tonic lacing their wine, awaiting activation by the wendigast leader’s chant, designed to affirm her place as Ruler for as long as she may live.
To eliminate such a large proportion of your own people may seem unfathomable to mortal folk, a crime punishable by death. But for the depraved worshippers of the Goddess of Blood and Bone, it was merely a matter of ensuring one’s survival.
The remaining wendigast fell to their knees in submission to their new leader, and thus a dark legend was born: Hyacinth, Queen and High Witch of all tree-spirit and witch kind.
*
Acknowledgements
It takes a tribe to publish
a book and I couldn’t be more grateful for the team that supports me. Thank you to Chloe and Aidan, for turning my ramblings into a piece of art that I can be proud of. Thank you for always pushing me to grow my craft. I learn so much with each book I write, and this book was no exception.
Thank you to Beth for once again bringing my dreams to life in this cover. Your talent is phenomenal. I am so thankful to have you creating my amazing covers.
Thank you to Helen, for helping write such an amazing blurb. Your wealth of experience, friendship and wise advice is always appreciated.
Thank you to Jess for doing the final proofread. Your fresh eyes were invaluable at picking up those final little errors.
Thank you to my husband. Through the sleepless and stressful nights, you have always been there to encourage me and bring me cups of tea. I am so grateful for all your support.
To my friends and family, thank you for always encouraging me, and pushing me through the hard times. Without your support, this book would not be finished.
Thank you to Lily. Though you are too young to read this book, thank you for allowing mummy the time to work on her book. Thank you for your patience and for all the times your have missed out on ‘fun mummy,’ so that I could keep working. I love you more than you will ever know.
Finally, thank you to my readers. Without you, I couldn’t keep doing the job I love. I am so grateful for all your positive reviews and shout-outs on Instagram. I am thankful to every one of you that loves my characters and helps spread the word about my books. I am so grateful to each one of you for your endless support.
Lastly, thank you to my close friends and fellow authors, who encourage me no matter what. Thank you to Ruthy and Kayla, for always having my back and for always being my number one cheerleaders. My life is so much fuller for having you ladies in it.
Thank you everyone,
Nattie x
About the Author
Nattie Kate Mason is an Australian self-published author. Nattie works as a nurse in her day job, but her passions are reading and writing. Nattie has travelled around Australia with her little family of three, living in various towns and cities.
Life is never dull for Nattie and her unique little family. Nature, life and reading, help to inspire Nattie’s creative side. You will often find her outside reading a good book, whilst enjoying a cup of tea.
The Goddess of Blood and Bone is Nattie’s debut New Adult Fantasy novel. Nattie is looking forward to bringing the sequel to her readers in 2022.
To see where Agnes’s story began, check out The Crowning YA Fantasy series.
Other titles by Nattie Kate Mason:
The Crowning young adult fantasy series:
The Crowning
A Queen’s Fate
Heart of a Crown
Visit nattiekatemason.com to stay up to date on the latest new releases from this author.
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