“Aren’t I already connected to the Conduit, with all the visions and stuff?”
“Sort of. But what you’re experiencing now are momentary flares. We need to tie you to it solidly if we want the coven binding to hold.”
Bri rubbed her upper arms like she was cold. “Whatever you say.”
Kean took off his fleece and wrapped it around Bri’s shoulders. “You know, if it was just the two of us, we would be doing this moonclad.”
“Moonclad?”
“Naked,” Astrid drawled. She would have been irritated by the constant innuendos, but they were helping to keep Bri loose. “Where do you think the term ‘mooning’ came from? Our people practically invented streaking.”
“Oh.” Bri buried her face in the collar of Kean’s coat.
“You’ll have plenty of opportunities to profane our ancient rituals later, Kean. For now, I don’t want your hairy ass anywhere near my cornbread.”
Bri burrowed deeper, hiding a smile.
Kean snorted as he unfolded from the blanket. “You’re never gonna let me live that one down, huh?”
Astrid grinned. “Oh, I’m sure someday you’ll do something stupider. Now, are you gonna set the circle, Romeo, or do you want me to regale the tale in all its drunken splendor?”
***
Kean shot Astrid a warning look, but even her teasing couldn’t bring him down. Hearing Bri giggle, seeing the spark of mischief in her eyes, it was worth it to be the butt of a few jokes. Gods knew he’d earned it.
He tried to clear his mind as he began his slow circle around their altar. His focus was shit since he’d taken Bri to bed. Flashbacks occupied thirty percent of the space in his head, doing it again the other seventy. His hormones were firing like happy little spark plugs. He stumbled over the incantation that should be second nature to him. By the skin of his teeth, he pulled the eastern watchtower in, and the candle burst aflame.
He did better with the next one, knowing Bri was watching, and the one after, until he’d grounded himself to the Conduit. On each revolution, his thoughts grew clearer, his intent stronger. He blessed the circle with flame, incense, water, salt. Four directions, four elements, four turns. The harmony of ritual always soothed him.
The Conduit, when well-balanced and approached with a level head, was a vastness of pure energy, but not the buzzing kind. Invigorating, but peaceful, like sitting in front of a placid lake at dawn as the fog rolls away.
As he built the magic that would insulate them from outside energies, a sense of ease filled him. The circle sealed, and his shields roared to life, buffering the wind and the churning of the water far below. He sat beside Bri on the blanket brimming with a sense of rightness he’d never felt in ritual before.
“You feel it, Bri?” Astrid’s voice was already half-dreamy.
Bri closed her eyes and nodded. “I feel something. Coming from the ground, I think.”
“It comes from everywhere.” Kean’s hand found Bri’s under the edge of the blanket where she was pressing her palm to the grass. “Try to feel it through us.” He resituated between the girls, and they scooted over to give his legs some extra room. He bowed his head as they all grasped hands and took in some long, slow breaths, which Bri tried to match. He squeezed her hand in encouragement, and when she finally relaxed, he spoke again.
“The Conduit is all around us — between the molecules of air, of blood, of earth — inside of everything on this plane. It’s the substance of life and death. In light and in the absence of light. It moves within us and responds to our will. It can’t be sensed with your body. It’s a hum with no sound, a tickle in your nose with no smell, a dance of light behind closed eyelids, a tingling warmth with no source. You feel it with all of your senses, and with none of them.”
Kean tilted his head to peek at Bri and found her shoulders slumped, her head lolling. Astrid was firmly grounded in a full meditative state, her energy resonating at a higher frequency. He smiled to himself. He’d never imagined it could feel this good to have Bri back. To finally tie the frayed ends of his Fate together.
He began Bri’s initiation with lightness and joy warming his soul. “The Conduit is a source of power and a well of Karma. We dip into it, and our actions ripple out over time and space. Always remember that there is power in thought, in the spoken and written word, and in action. There is power in intent. Any power you harness with your will weighs back on your Karma with equal force.
If you follow the Zyne path, the Threefold Laws will govern you: protect the Legacy, commit your soul to the keeping of the Cosmos, and do not use your powers to do harm. You must undertake this journey without doubt in your mind or fear in your heart. Briana Celene Spurrier, daughter of Danielle and Aldric, do you choose to follow the path of the Zyne?”
Bri jolted at her name, and probably at the command Kean put behind his last words. Even without her Inner Eye fully open, she could likely sense the weight of power in them.
“Yes,” she answered softly. He squeezed her hand and she said it again, more sure this time. “Yes. I do.”
That’s my girl. “How do you approach this crossroads?”
“With perfect love, and perfect trust,” she read from the page open in front of her.
The energy around them spiked. Bri tightened her grip on his hand.
“And how will you walk this path?”
“I will protect the Legacy. I will accept my Karma. I will do no harm.” The air pressure dropped, and Bri gasped.
Kean’s connection to the Conduit pulsed, magic coursing through his veins, tendrils of it coiling around his bones. Bri’s hand was sweaty. Of course she was nervous, maybe even afraid to be setting out on this path. All he could think was, about damn time. “Do you vow to follow these Threefold Laws unto your death and to commit your Karma to the Cosmos in this and all lives that follow?”
“I do.”
Kean lifted his head and smiled at her. “If you do so vow, make your offering.”
***
Kean and Astrid’s hands slid away, but the weight she’d felt in the air was welling inside of her now, making Bri feel like her skin would burst open and spill forth light.
With her eyes pressed closed, a secondary awareness blossomed. She truly sensed where she was for the first time in her life. Not just relative to Astrid and Kean, or the ground, trees, or ocean, but to the sky and stars above, in time and space. She lived in that moment and saw with crystalline clarity a juncture in her own destiny snapping into place.
Words came to her from outside of memory; they fluttered against her heart like a rush of wings and soared from her voice in a song she’d never known. A song she’d always known. She hummed the incantation, and the force of magic behind it erupted in a crescendo through her blood. Every cell in her body vibrated with pure joy.
I have lived this before. This is my destiny. I am Zyne.
With her final oath, Bri lifted the ceremonial athame from the blanket and scored a shallow diagonal cut down the center of her left palm. She let the blood well and run off to land in the cup of wine below.
“So I have promised, so let it be done.”
She lifted the cup to her lips and consecrated the act. As soon as the wine touched her tongue, the world flipped on its axis. Briana’s spirit lifted out of her body. She watched the three of them, a triangle around their oil lantern, as they spun into a kaleidoscope, blurred, and became a swirl of colors.
Looking down from the heavens, she saw how small, and yet how important each human life is. Drops in the bucket of eternity. She saw her minute place in the organic machine of the Cosmos. Witnessed the give and take and the slow, steady swinging of life’s pendulum. The world relies on order, pattern, and repetition. The earth spins and swings around the sun with rational, mathematical predictability. But she also saw the chaotic nature of things. No matter what, you can never know with certainty what will happen. Lightning can strike, the earth can open up and swallow you, and the very air you breath
e can tear your life away.
Each action leads to a new course.
No future was certain. Life was simply a cascade of choices. For one long, shining second, Bri was above and separate from everything. Truly individual. One of a kind, and yet part of an infinite whole.
She fell back into herself and blinked her eyes open to find Astrid and Kean beaming at her as they took turns declaring, “Bledsung!” and sipping from the cup that now held blood from all three of them.
She’d missed the bindings and the rest of the ritual, adrift in her waking dream. With a dizzy smile, she accepted the chalice again and drained it, then collapsed into Kean’s arms. “Bledsung.”
“Blessings.” He kissed her on both cheeks. His glowed like freshly shined apples. “Welcome, my love.”
Kean kissed her again, on the lips, then helped her up and leaned back so she could reach Astrid. Her best friend yanked her forward and squeezed another tight blessing out, along with all her breath.
“Welcome, my sister.” She kissed Bri on both cheeks, then wiped a stream of tears from her own.
Bri’s eyes misted up too. She settled back to her spot on the blanket as Astrid poured more wine and Kean blessed the cornbread and honey, then licked the extra off his fingers in a very suggestive manner.
Astrid politely ignored him — for about five seconds — and then snatched the plate away. “Don’t make me lose my appetite. Who taught you such vulgar manners?”
Bri laughed in agreement and Kean shot her an accusatory glare before lifting a piece of the honey-soaked bread from the stack and stuffing it in his mouth. Most of it. Some crumbs stuck to his face, and the honey dribbled down his chin.
“Well, she’s got you on the manners bit, hasn’t she?” Though she considered leaning over to lick him clean.
He smacked his lips and spoke through a mouthful. “Sure, now I see how it is. This is gonna be you two ganging up on me all the time.”
Astrid raised one eyebrow. “Chicks before dicks, my brother.”
Bri coughed and nearly choked on her cornbread. Astrid winked and passed the wine. Bri sipped slowly and couldn’t seem to stop grinning. She could be drinking wine with Eric in some fancy restaurant right now. Just a week ago she’d been considering her future with him a done deal: travel, music, all the finer things in life. Wining and dining within an elite circle of stuffy, highbrow, high-influence acquaintances. Never in her most inane fantasies had she imagined herself practicing witchcraft with her two best friends on top of Lover’s Bluff back home.
But this was so much better.
“So, any Inner Eye action over there?” Astrid asked.
Bri huddled in Kean’s jacket and shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m still a bit dizzy from the spinning part, but I guess that’s normal?”
“Spinning?” The other two asked in unison.
“Yeah. After I made the oath, I was spinning, and then I was…” Bri licked her sticky fingers and spread her arms wide, remembering the weightless sensation. She tilted her head to the sky and could feel the blanket of stars still clinging to her, cradling her in a primordial womb. “Floating. It was incredible.”
Kean’s eyes widened. “You astral planed?”
“I’m so jealous.” Astrid shook her head.
Bri stiffened. “What? That’s not normal?”
“That’s fucking awesome,” Astrid said. “Astral planing is not an uncommon power for Oracles, but before your Inner Eye even opens? I knew you would kick ass. Knew it.”
“Do you think that means she’ll be able to project too?” Kean regarded Bri with an odd expression, like he was sizing her up.
Astrid nodded. “Prob’ly.”
“Project? You mean like what Kean does?”
“No, when I fade, I teleport the molecules of my actual physical body. An astral projection is more like your spirit travels, but your body stays where it is.”
Bri didn’t have an intelligent comment to respond with, so she simply nodded. Her spirit had actually left her body? That was… wow.
“Well, the moon has peaked, we did the ritual, it’s cold, and I have to be at the market in about four hours to get the first pick of the produce. What say we call it a night? It looks like Bri’s Inner Eye is a no show. I’m out of ideas. Maybe Geri will help us.” Astrid wrapped her long, multi-colored scarf around her neck and started to close her books and pack up.
Kean sighed, looking at Briana as if wondering what to do with her. She shrugged and passed him a flirtatious smile. Her body pulsed at the answering flicker of desire in his eyes.
“You two gonna hang?”
Kean smirked. “It is Lover’s Bluff.”
“Ew.”
Bri laughed, and then sucked in a strangled gasp as a thrust of energy lifted her off the ground. At the same time, the sky fell down on top of her. Her breath halted on a silent scream, and she clawed for fistfuls of grass, struggling to move under the immense weight on her chest.
She heard Astrid’s startled “Shit!” just before a sound like crashing waves pounded her head back to the earth, bowing her spine. A slow burn crackled inside her forehead. The constellations spun in her vision as she was sucked down a drain into a place with no pressure, no direction, no time. Spiraling, spiraling, down, down, down…
***
Father Dolores never touched her, but whenever they let her body rest from the torture, he would come. After the beating, or stretching, her abusers would douse her in frigid salt water. It burned like acid, and she felt every wound again tenfold. He would order her covered in an infested rag, and have her bound with her head up, so she had to look at him.
He never inspected the work of his handymen, only skulked in the shadows of her cell and asked questions. Cold, emotionless questions. For hours. His voice was empty, but Vivianne felt the darkness inside of him, like an oubliette that could swallow her up.
“You will die soon,” he observed, nearing the end of what she hoped would be his final visit before her peace came at last. The light from the torches barely illuminated his grisly, pockmarked face.
She said nothing, only stared at his vacant eyes.
“If you survive this night, you will burn on the morrow, like so many before you. And so many yet to come.”
Vivianne closed her eyes, but she could not shut him out. She hadn’t the strength left. His voice crept into her psyche, cruel words laced with pure, potent evil.
“You can still be forgiven.”
Her eyes snapped open. Did he expect her to beg? “You disgust me.”
“And welcomed into God’s glorious kingdom,” he continued.
She spat blood at his feet.
He grimaced. “It’s very simple. How did you see the Black Death coming? How were you and your fellow witches protected while countless others suffered and died? What witchcraft afforded you such a vision?”
“I told you. I signed a pact with the devil.”
“You lie!”
“You are not interested in truth.”
The blows came fast and hard — first one cheek, then the other, and the other again. Her head snapped back against the jagged stone. Leather-clad fingers like steel claws gripped her bottom jaw and squeezed.
“Do. Not. Lie,” he rasped against her face. “I know what you are, Skydancer. Do you know what I am?”
Vivianne’s vision cleared, and Father Dolores let her see what he had spent such effort concealing, what no one else saw behind his divine rhetoric and honorable quest for the One True God: demon. A soul as black as pitch, as unforgiving as the coldest winter night.
“I am the devil these insolent fools fear. And I will plague every last descendant of your blood, to every corner of this plane, until everyone you’ve ever touched has expired in anguish, cursing your name. Unless you tell me. Where is it?”
Even with the burden of guilt and despair he siphoned into her, Vivianne summoned enough strength to resist. The magic that bound her to Lucas had created a seal ar
ound her heart, so it could not be poisoned. Soon she would be free, and there was nothing he could do about it. She may have lost her footing on the Zyne path, but at least she could protect what was most sacred. She’d insured her bloodline would go on. Lucas had sworn he would see Marguerite safe. She trusted him.
She relished the sting as a savage smile stretched her chapped, swollen lips. “You’ll never have it now. I will take it to my grave. You’ve lost.”
He released her, removed his gloves, and cast them into the pile of rags near the wall. He whirled on his heel. She could hear the ugly pleasure in his voice when he spoke with his back to her. “Then your suffering has just begun. Death will grant you no reprieve. I have eternity.”
***
Briana was bound to a cross on a high cliff. Flames licked at the soles of her feet. The slightest struggle against her rope binds bit her flesh with serrated teeth. She twisted sideways, wanting to see what was behind her, only to find more cliff. More flames. She was perched on a narrow rock ledge, surrounded by an ocean of fire.
A shadowy man-shaped figure took form on the shore across from her. The rocks below the shadow glinted red in the firelight, as if the island itself wept blood.
I know what you are, Skydancer. Do you know what I am?
The whisper made Bri shudder, phantom pains threatening to tear her into a million pieces. She screamed, a feral sound filled with terror and rage, and struggled harder. “No! No!”
The flames swirled and spilled against the blood-slicked rocks under the shadow’s feet. Crimson slits glowed at her from the darkness where his face should be.
You can die for them again, but I will make you suffer first.
He lifted one hand. The curtain of flames pulled back to reveal the source of the blood. It flowed from a heap of bodies. Empty eyes glittered with firelight, limbs akimbo, flesh torn, twisted. Burning. Blood flowed in great rivers. It spilled off the cliff, down the rocks, into the gluttonous flames.
Rain of Ash: Skydancer Book 1 (The Zyne Legacy) Page 16
