The Secret of the Sacred Four

by E J Elwin

  Jasper went to the edge of the clearing and stepped back into the trees. There was some rustling and the sound of branches breaking, and then he emerged with his arms full of wood. He fashioned a sort of nest with the kindling at the very center of the clearing, then placed the cauldron neatly inside it, like a bird’s egg. Jessica pulled a bottle of water from her basket and emptied it into the cauldron before uncorking the bottle of Silver Solvent and upending its contents in after the water. The magical silver substance poured thick as oil and glimmered as if it had its own built-in light source.

  “Arthur, if you’d do us the honor?” asked Jasper.

  I looked down at the kindling beneath the cauldron and pointed my hand at it, remembering the Patriarch’s deranged face as he pointed his bazooka at me and Connor. The yellow orange flames burst into life on my hand, reared up in the forest gloom, and shot down at the wood, quick as a bottle rocket pointed downward. Instantly, a yellow orange fire with red flecks crackled beneath the cauldron.

  Jasper jumped and clapped his heavy hands together. “Amazing, absolutely amazing! The power of the Burned Witch!”

  Harriet put a gentle hand on my shoulder. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, and I remembered that she hadn’t yet seen my power of conjuring fire. She smiled, a loving smile full of pride that reminded me of my mom. “Magnificent,” she said.

  “That’ll get the cauldron simmering,” said Jessica. “The nifty thing about Silver Solvent is it doesn’t boil over or evaporate. As long as a fire burns beneath it, it’ll just bubble evenly.”

  Sylvie, Lizzie, Hortensia, and I peered into the cauldron and watched the silver liquid slowly swirl around. Its soft glow reminded me of the glow-in-the-dark stars I’d once decorated my bedroom ceiling with as a child. I stepped back and got a better look at the cauldron from the Concoction Cave, my yellow orange flames licking at its sides. Jasper had carved on its surface the peculiar symbol from page forty-four of the book of Ursula’s prophecies. The symbol, four triangles pointing inward at a square turned on its side, shined in the firelight in what I now saw was silver engraving.

  “It’s called a quartenna,” said Jasper, watching me examine it. “For a long time, we thought Ursula had created it, but it crops up in books and carvings before her time, although never with an explanation for its meaning. The only thing I’ve ever seen it associated with is the Sacred Four prophecy, so we just call it the Symbol of the Sacred Four.”

  “What does it do?” I asked.

  “Well that’s just it,” he said, in a hushed voice. “We don’t fully know yet. All this time, it has represented something most witches thought was nonsense. Now, there may be entirely new magic, entirely new kinds of spells that the four of you will be capable of.

  “Symbols are powerful. Most covens adopt a symbol that they feel best represents them, then use it for spells and protection. The Symbol of the Sacred Four, what it represents, what it might have the potential to do… Let’s just say that your teleporting by ash into our house isn’t the only thing not mentioned in Ursula’s prophecy that we’re likely to see…”

  I gaped at him and at the symbol, wondering what unheard-of magic the girls and I might suddenly have access to, and my mind instantly went to Connor. Could it be possible after all…?

  I shook my head and forced myself to focus on the task at hand. Sinking back into that place of despair and desperate wishing wouldn’t do me any favors.

  Jessica reached into the wicker basket and pulled out two dozen distinctive roses, the Sacred Roses from her Rose Room. They were evenly split in the four colors they came in: red, blue, purple, and black. The difference between these and the ones still in the Rose Room, however, was that these were not in bloom yet, but rather in their tightly puckered rosebud stage.

  She walked to the edge of the clearing and began to loop them through thin branches in the trees at strategic intervals. I noticed that she didn’t have to struggle to tie them or in any way make them stick to the branches. All she had to do was raise one up to the place she wanted, and the rose stem wrapped itself nimbly around the wood like a tiny snake. Within a few minutes, all twenty-four roses were spread out evenly in the tree branches surrounding the clearing, and Jessica looked pleased.

  “You ready for that little spell of yours?” she asked Jasper.

  “Sure am,” he said. He reached into the wicker basket and pulled out a thick, oval-shaped crystal about the size of a bar of soap. It was a very pale misty blue, almost as light as the color of frost. I knew from our talk at the breakfast table that morning that it was called a Cognition Crystal, a cousin to the Blood Crystal.

  “Give me a few minutes to prepare…” He retreated to the far end of the clearing, sat down on the smooth dirt, closed his eyes, and began to meditate.

  Jessica reached into the wicker basket once more and unearthed the assortment of enchanted knives she had packed. They were wrapped in a black velvet cloth, which she unfurled on the smooth dirt, the way Harriet had laid down her sheet of black velvet on the earth of Connor’s grave. She spaced the knives evenly apart, like a surgeon arranging her instruments, then straightened up with the final knife in her hand, which she handed to Harriet. I recognized the sapphires encrusted in the hilt.

  “I’ll take good care of it,” said Harriet.

  “I know,” said Jessica, smiling. “I’m honored to have it used for this occasion.”

  I watched the knife which had now drawn my blood no less than three times, and felt a strange affection for it. I had never thought of any knife or combat weapon as beautiful, but this one was, as were the glittering weapons bedazzled with crystals that the girls and I now wielded.

  “We have a good forty minutes until midnight,” said Jessica. “Maybe warm yourselves up, practice a few swings with your weapons?”

  Sylvie eagerly raised her sword, Hortensia her staff, and Lizzie her crossbow.

  “Lizzie, target practice!” shouted Sylvie, darting around the clearing, waving her sword.

  Lizzie raised her crossbow, squinted through its sights, then shot an arrow at Sylvie’s forehead, where it bounced off in a flash of blue light and fell to the dirt. Sylvie hooted with delight as Lizzie went to pick up her arrow. Next to them, Hortensia twirled her quarterstaff, faster and faster in smooth figure eights until it looked like a blur, with the odd gleam of the black crystals here and there.

  I wasn’t in the mood to take swipes at my sister witches with my axes, so I gazed up at the pale crescent moon, my mind wandering back to Connor. Harriet came up beside me.

  “No practice for you?” she asked lightly.

  “In the Halfway Place where Connor is,” I said, “there’s always a full moon. This giant silver full moon that’s bigger than ours.”

  She smiled, and looked up at the sky with me. “When I went there,” she said, “it was a yellow crescent moon about the shape of the one we’re looking at now, but also much bigger.”

  “When did you go?” I asked.

  “The last time was nearly sixteen years ago,” she said. “To see Lana.”

  I turned to her in fascination as she gazed up at the sky.

  “It took the appearance of Paris where she was killed,” she said quietly. “We went strolling through the streets, just talking and looking up at the moon…”

  I imagined a younger Harriet strolling through a Halfway Place version of Paris with her childhood friend, gone too soon…

  “You and the girls were just babies then,” she said, more cheery, “not even a year old.”

  “Why does the Ceremony call for a crescent moon?” I asked. “You mentioned that Magick Malevolent always calls for a new moon. Why the crescent moon for this?”

  “The Bonding Ceremony actually doesn’t call for any moon in particular,” she said. “You can do it under any of them. Magick Malevolent naturally calls for darkness, and therefore a new moon. You also might have wondered why the resurrection spell called for a quarter moon?”

&n
bsp; “You mean a half moon?” I asked.

  “Many people refer, incorrectly by astronomy standards, to the quarter moon as a half moon,” she said. “In fact, what we always see of the Earth’s moon is only half of it, as the other half is behind it and shrouded in darkness. What we call a full moon is really more the half moon. So if that half which is facing us is halfway lit, then technically, what we are seeing is only a quarter of the entire sphere. However, there is still value in the image that is visible to us, which is a circle, half in darkness and half in light. It’s a powerful symbol of duality, of life and death, and as such, very appropriate for the resurrection spell, whose aim is to have someone cross over that dividing line, the halfway point.”

  I stared up at the pale moon, thinking that I never could have imagined that its phases would end up being so significant to my life. Harriet and I then watched the girls swing their weapons around. The shining silver blade burst from the end of Hortensia’s quarterstaff and she hoisted the weapon up to shoulder height like a javelin, then hurled it at a nearby tree, where it stuck solidly in the wood. Jessica, who’d been watching the girls like a mother supervising her daughters, clapped in support.

  “You’d think you had all been training for months, at least,” she said, bemused. “I’ve never seen witches take quite this easily to weapon use. That Sacred Four blood is warrior blood, without a doubt.”

  Snippets of the prophecy floated across my mind, in the singsong voice that I imagined Ursula would have read them: Destined for battle, these witches four… The warriors to fight the new war…

  “Speaking of,” said Jessica, “it’s just about that time.”

  The girls lowered their weapons and glanced at each other. Jasper, who had not so much as twitched throughout his meditation, much like when I first encountered him, suddenly rose from his place on the smooth ground.

  “Let’s do this,” he said.

  It was a few minutes until midnight. As planned, Jasper now began to cast the spell on himself using the Cognition Crystal. He stood stock-still, his eyes closed, the crystal flat in one large palm, and a sleek silver knife from Jessica’s array on the velvet cloth in the other. He took a breath and then began to chant in a deep, measured voice:

  “A Seer lies in wait, a guard in the trees

  Enemies approach, menace in the breeze

  Powers of Sight, canny and bold

  Now shall increase, tall and tenfold

  The gift to predict, the blows that would kill

  To best the villains, the blood they would spill

  Moment to moment, to stand two steps ahead

  Witch hunter scum, this night the earth be their bed.”

  The crystal glowed a dazzling bright blue that rivaled the brightness of the fire I had conjured beneath the cauldron, the only other light source in the clearing. Eyes closed, Jasper brought the blade in his left hand to the middle finger of his right, and drew a small amount of blood. He touched the bleeding finger to the crystal which glowed even brighter for a moment, and then went completely dark, leaving the cauldron fire as the only light once again.

  Jasper opened his eyes, and the girls and I gasped in surprise. His green eyes had vanished— pupils, irises, and whites— and were now windows of pure bright blue light. It was as if the light had left the crystal only to travel directly to his eyes. It was exactly the opposite of the way his eyes had looked the first time I’d seen them, and only half as disquieting.

  “Well done,” said Jessica, the light from Jasper’s shining eyes reflected in her green ones.

  She took the knife and Cognition Crystal gently from his hands, then reached down and unsheathed the katana he had brought from the Combat Cave. He continued to remain very still, staring unblinkingly out in front of him, and I wondered just how present he was, but as soon as the long handle of the katana touched his palm, his fingers wrapped quickly and firmly around it.

  “Alright, time to hand over those Cloaking Crystals,” said Jessica.

  She unclasped Jasper’s silver necklace while he stood still as stone. The girls and I glanced at each other and then removed our own necklaces, the red, blue, purple, and black Cloaking Crystals glinting in the firelight as we handed them over to Jessica. Lizzie rubbed her neck where the necklace had been, already missing it. Harriet easily slipped off her dark purple crystal and placed it in Jessica’s hand, who then removed her own bright green one, before placing all seven in the wicker basket.

  “Midnight,” said Jessica, checking her watch. “Harriet, you’re up.”

  **

  The cauldron was fully simmering, the Silver Solvent bubbling thickly inside, looking like shining liquefied cement. A thin veil of silvery white steam, like a fainter version of the moonlight, rose hazily in curling wisps.

  “The four of you take your places around the cauldron…” said Harriet. She guided us to four points around the cauldron so we were at equal distances from one another and about two feet from the cauldron itself. I thought of my freshman year at Wineville High when I had taken a theatre class, and the teacher had guided me and my classmates to our marks on the stage in a similar way.

  When we were settled in our positions, our weapons beside us on the smooth dirt, I looked across the cauldron at Sylvie who was opposite me, then at Lizzie on my left and Hortensia on my right. I wondered strangely what we must look like from above, and thought of a compass. Harriet stood adjacent to us, a few feet back, between Sylvie and Hortensia. Jessica and Jasper stood together at the edge of the clearing, each of their backs to the thick trunks of two trees, as if to prevent anyone sneaking up on them from behind.

  Harriet addressed me and the girls. “Now, whatever you do,” she said, “do not break the circle until the Ceremony is finished. You’ll know exactly when that is because violet-colored fire will burst from the cauldron. No matter what happens, you must stay in your positions until you see that fire. Even if you see the Brotherhood arrive, don’t break the circle. Trust that we will be able to handle them and keep them away from you. Do you all understand?”

  “Yes,” the four of us said together.

  “Here we go,” said Harriet, and I remembered it was just what she’d said before starting the resurrection spell. She held her arms out to her sides, palms up, the way she usually did when using her telekinesis, only this time, she held Jessica’s sapphire knife in her right hand. She cleared her throat and began to chant in that familiar voice infused with command and purpose:

  “In the shelter of woods, at the midnight hour

  We join these witches, we combine their power

  Bonded in sisterhood, in friendship and trust

  Circle of strength, union of witches robust

  As a coven, witches are elevated

  Connections are built, and magic created

  The blood of one, the blood of the others may find

  Sorrow or fear, sisters are never far behind

  Far may they walk, or high may they fly

  None shall be lost, on land or in sky

  Against any enemies, as one shall they stand

  Demon or man, the coven together will band

  Out of many paths, there will be one

  Bonded by blood, so shall it be done.”

  Harriet stepped forward between Hortensia and Sylvie. “Hortensia, our Stoned Witch, would you like to go first?”

  “Sure!” said Hortensia excitedly, holding out her hand, which Harriet took.

  “Repeat after me,” said Harriet. “I vow to stand with my sister witches, in great love and great trust…”

  “‘I vow to stand with my sister witches, in great love and great trust’,” Hortensia repeated, visibly trembling with excitement.

  “To live both the joys and terrors of this world, withstand what we must…” said Harriet.

  Hortensia repeated the words again, looking like she was suppressing a wide, delighted smile, likely because she deemed this to be a very serious moment.

  “Togethe
r as one, no longer apart…” said Harriet.

  Hortensia followed her.

  “Henceforth, this coven I trust with my heart,” concluded Harriet.

  Hortensia repeated the words in a measured voice, and I could tell her instinct would have been to repeat them at an eagerly rapid pace. Harriet raised the sapphire knife and brought it gently to Hortensia’s right index finger, where the tiniest amount of blood appeared. Hortensia didn’t wince in the slightest, and only watched in enthrallment as Harriet held the knife over the simmering cauldron.

  As soon as the first drop of blood made contact with the Silver Solvent, the bubbling intensified and the silvery white steam rising in its thin haze briefly turned jet black and looked like vaporized ink, before returning to exactly the way it had looked a moment before. The bubbles returned to their tranquil even rhythm, and I thought weirdly of a cat, bristling angrily at someone for interrupting its nap before returning to the mellow calm of a few moments ago.

  Hortensia mouthed the word wow as Harriet moved on to Sylvie, who straightened her pointed hat as though preparing for a photo to be taken, then offered Harriet her right hand.

  “Sylvie, Hanged Witch, Master of the Air, repeat after me,” said Harriet.

  They went through the exact words that Harriet had with Hortensia. Sylvie, too, looked like she could barely contain herself. I almost expected her to hover off the ground from the look on her face.

  “Henceforth, this coven I trust with my heart,” Harriet said again, and Sylvie followed.

  Harriet brought the sapphire knife to Sylvie’s right hand, lightly piercing her index finger, before holding the knife over the cauldron once more. The shimmering contents bubbled briskly like before, and the rising steam briefly turned a vibrant purple that matched the crystals in the hilt of Sylvie’s sword on the ground next to her.

  As Harriet moved on to Lizzie, I glanced at Jessica and Jasper at the edge of the clearing, watching us silently, their backs still to the two wide tree trunks. Jasper’s eyes continued to glow in that bright pale blue, and I hadn’t seen him blink once since he’d cast the spell.