by Ross Turner
The day had been long and filled with new and overwhelming knowledge: truths that Marcii simply could not deny. But it seemed equally that the day had not changed at all, Marcii noted. The young Dougherty was no more tired than she had been, even many hours ago now.
That was undoubtedly the effect of her vision. She wouldn’t have been surprised if all this had happened merely in the blink of an eye. That idea seemed impossible, and far too much for her to consider at that moment.
It was, however, a very interesting notion.
So, in all of this, and after such horrendous suffering, it actually wasn’t the old man Midnight’s fault at all.
No matter how much he blamed himself, nor how desperately his younger brother sought his so called justice, none of the responsibility for what had happened rested upon Jenson’s shoulders.
Unfortunately, Marcii doubted whether many people would see it that way, least of all Alistair. She suspected that he was simply too full of hate and too consumed by vengeance to even consider such mercies.
Perhaps she was wrong, but the young Dougherty doubted very much that the old man Alistair would grant his brother absolution.
She hoped Alistair would prove to be more than she imagined. But, unfortunately, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that people weren’t what they once were.
Looking up, suddenly startled, the aged woman Ekra caught Marcii’s gaze in the dim, bioluminescent light. She smiled warmly, as she seemed to always do, and nodded slowly, as if confirming the young Dougherty’s suspicions.
“Does Alistair have the same connection to you as I do?” Marcii asked, hoping to confirm whether the old man had been telling her the truth or not.
For some reason she trusted Ekra’s word as the unquestionable truth, down to the very letter. Understandably, she wanted confirmation as to whether Alistair had purposefully misled her or not.
“The connection you have is not with me.” Ekra told her immediately, abolishing that thought, leaving Marcii yet even still in the dark.
She had been so sure.
“His runs along the same bloodline…” She confirmed. “Though he would have you believe it is similar to yours…”
“Isn’t it?” Marcii questioned.
“He has the same connection.” She confirmed. “But it does not follow the same path. Yours runs much deeper, and much more true…”
Marcii shook her head slightly.
“I still don’t understand it…” She admitted, sighing with frustration, hoping fervently that Ekra would explain it to her.
She had been so sure that her connection, seemingly so vital in all of this, was with her Guardian.
“You shall…” Ekra assured the young Dougherty, smiling still. “It is time…”
Marcii’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth to reply, her heart filling with hope as Ekra looked on reassuringly.
But she didn’t even get chance to reply, as the world suddenly turned black all around her.
Even still the answers she had so sorely hoped for were not yet to come.
The dim walls of the stone passageway were thrown off in all directions as Marcii’s head spun horribly.
Her mysterious, aged Guardian vanished from sight, so fleeting and yet at the same time so timeless, never to be seen again.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Marcii slowly cracked her eyes open and found that her vision was still dark and blurry. She felt the cold, hard stone beneath her back long before the grey ceiling of the room at the top of Raven’s Keep eventually came into focus.
Equally, the sound of nervous breaths stood all around reached her ears before she saw who they belonged to.
Not that it made much of a difference: she could guess who’s they were without having to look.
The sound of Kaylm’s short, sharp, panicked breaths was the most obvious. He sounded as if he was right at her side and in fact, as her senses slowly returned to her, Marcii felt his hand scooped protectively into hers.
Midnight, Reaper and Malorie were all breathing much more calmly. From the little she could tell they stood slightly further back, though their concern was no less.
Beyond that she could hear very little, but Marcii knew somehow that there was somebody else in the room with them. Someone who made no sound when she drew breath, for in actual fact she had no need to.
The fog in her vision eventually cleared and the young Dougherty pushed herself shakily to sit.
Kaylm made a quiet noise of combined shock and relief. He pulled Marcii immediately into a hasty embrace.
She hugged him back tightly, gratefully.
But even as she held him her gaze swept the room, settling briefly upon each of the faces watching her with such thoughtful intent.
Her suddenly piercing yellow eyes found Malorie’s vibrant violet irises and settled there for a moment before moving on. Jumping to Reaper’s and then in turn to Midnight’s, Marcii found their solid, black pupils bearing into her with emotions all but unknown.
And then, finally, the young Dougherty found the one she’d been looking for.
The one who made no sound.
Her gaze settled intently upon Raven.
The strange ghost of a woman stared back at her, with her long black hair and bright violet eyes, her features were so similar to Malorie’s that it was most uncanny.
All at once Marcii realised that Vixen was gone and the pit in the depths of her stomach suddenly reopened for some reason.
Glancing across the room Marcii saw through the glassless window that morning was only just breaking. Clearly, though her visions had taken many hours in her mind, it had been only a mere few in reality.
She sighed as she gazed out at the icy clear blue sky for a moment, her head still whirring with a thousand and more jumbled thoughts.
Snowflakes were just beginning to sift slowly down through the dense morning air, filling the new day with a strange, wordless wonder.
“I’m so confused…” She whispered, not directing her words at anybody in particular, but rather just voicing her feelings for them all to hear.
That was probably the best way.
Whilst before, in her anger, she had blamed Midnight, and indeed Malorie and Reaper too, now she was not so sure. After everything that Ekra had told her, Marcii’s accusations were tied up in knots.
“Let me explain…” Malorie attempted again, hoping that this time Marcii would listen.
“Please…” Marcii replied, much to Malorie’s delight. “I need to know…”
“Yes.” Malorie agreed firmly. “Yes you do.”
She parted from Reaper’s side and swept across the stone floor to sit beside Marcii. Reaper’s expression was calm and spoke to Marcii as it once always had done, telling her in a single glance that he was pleased that she’d had her vision.
Clearly it had been very important, though she still didn’t understand fully what her visions were or what caused them.
Raven too drew nearer to the young Dougherty, gliding even more gracefully and silently across the room than Malorie had done. Reaper and Midnight watched her as she passed them by.
Marcii realised all of a sudden that the only one of them all who couldn’t see the ghostly woman was Kaylm.
He was still completely unaware of her presence, even as all their eyes trained upon her as she lowered herself to sit silently beside Marcii and Malorie.
When she found a way to explain it to him, Marcii vowed silently that she would help Kaylm understand.
Raven looked at Marcii with the same expression that Malorie always wore, and somehow even before Malorie opened her mouth to speak Marcii realised at least a little of the truth.
“The key lies in your emotions, Marcii.” Malorie began.
But suddenly the young Dougherty glanced around again, still feeling as if somebody was missing.
Of course there was.
“Where’s Vixen?” She asked, the memory of the young orphan still fresh in her mind. �
�She was here, before my vision. Where did she go?”
“Hush, my dear.” Raven suddenly breathed.
Instantly Marcii quieted, her eyes widening with shock.
She had never heard Raven speak before.
Her voice was smooth and well versed, though there was definitely a pang of regret to her tone that underlay everything else.
“Be patient.” Raven continued. “If we do not explain this first, nothing else will make sense.”
Unable to find her tongue, Marcii merely nodded.
She found herself suddenly even more confused.
Looking on at Malorie imploringly, as if she should have told her all this many moons ago, Marcii’s eyes were pleading.
Vixen was only a girl. What about her could be so confusing that it wouldn’t make sense?
But that, of course, was where she was most wrong of all.
Raven only smiled in response. Inclining her head towards Malorie, the mysterious ghost of a woman gestured for her to continue.
Obliging, Malorie went on, and Marcii’s eyes widened further and further as her explanations became more and more farfetched and perplexing.
Nonetheless, they were nothing if not the truth, and it was perhaps that which frightened the young Dougherty more than anything else.
“The key lies in your emotions, Marcii.” The witch Malorie repeated. “First you must understand that, before I may tell you any more…”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“It is always those closest to us who can cut us the deepest.” Malorie said wistfully. “And when our deepest emotions come to the surface, that’s when we have the most power, and indeed also when we can do the most damage.”
“We?” Marcii questioned sharply, thinking she already knew the answer, but hoping she was wrong.
Malorie did not hold back.
There was no time to conceal any more truths.
“Witches.” She replied simply, and somewhat brashly, as if it was just something Marcii would have to come to terms with. “By we, I mean witches.”
Although she’d had her suspicions, Marcii still started slightly.
“And that includes you, Marcii Dougherty.” Malorie confirmed, cutting off any hope of denial. “You are a witch. You have the very power of which I speak.”
Marcii thought back to her family and all the dreadful things that had happened to them. She thought of Kaylm, instinctively looking across at him and clasping his hand tightly in hers.
The more Marcii thought on it, the more she realised that Malorie’s words rang true. Whenever she had been the most distraught, on more occasions than she cared to remember, more and more things had seemed to happen that she could not explain.
Undoubtedly there had been countless occasions too where she’d done things that she wasn’t even aware of.
Even just the thought of having these abilities, or powers, whatever they were, made Marcii feel strange.
It was almost like she was breaking some kind of rule.
As if she was going against the natural order of things…
Malorie and the others just watched and waited as it all started to sink in.
Fleeting emotions crossed over Marcii’s expression and then disappeared again in the space of a heartbeat, coming and going like the very days themselves.
Eventually, as Malorie watched with her deep, vibrant violet eyes as Marcii took all of this in, she saw eventually that she was ready to speak.
“This power…” Marcii began, her words filled with uncertainty and her eyes clouded with worry. “Do I have it because of my connection?” She asked, referring to all that the old man Alistair had told her, and indeed all that Ekra had clarified.
“Yes.” Malorie replied simply, nodding as she spoke, confirming that Midnight’s younger brother had spoken at least a little truth.
“And who is She? The person I’m connected to?”
Malorie’s gaze levelled as she spoke, as if this was perhaps one of the most important things Marcii needed to know.
Indeed, she was not wrong.
“Your connection…” The mysterious witch began. “The one Alistair spoke of. It is with Mother Nature.”
Stunned by Malorie’s words, at first Marcii was too shocked to speak.
Eventually though, her mind racing infinitely faster than her tongue, she managed to speak.
“Mother Nature?” Marcii repeated, confused. “It can’t be…”
“It is.” Malorie assured her. “For mine is just the same.”
“But Mother Nature isn’t a person!” Marcii argued. “Alistair told me She was a person!”
“Alistair wouldn’t have said that.” Malorie countered. “But if he did, he was lying.” She conceded. “You’re right of course, She isn’t a person…”
Marcii looked a little taken aback by Malorie’s smooth, swift acceptance. Nonetheless, she spoke again before Marcii had chance to reply.
“But, She’s certainly more than just a name we give the weather…”
Marcii nodded slowly, unsure exactly how to reply to that, finding now that it was her turn to concede.
But then, as if she’d been reading her very thoughts, Malorie spoke again.
“We are linked more closely to Mother Nature than most.” She went on to explain. “As is Reaper, and Midnight…” She continued, gesturing to each of them in turn. “And indeed Alistair too…”
She paused for a moment, seeming to consider her next words carefully.
“That’s why how we feel has such an effect. Our emotions, and that which means the most to us, stir the same feelings for Mother Nature Herself.”
Marcii’s eyes widened in disbelief and she listened on intently.
“Just as our emotions thrash about inside of us, they do the same to Mother Nature, thrashing about inside of Her too…”
“Only, inside of us, it just affects the way we feel…” Marcii said then, starting to fill in the gaps herself.
Malorie looked on encouragingly.
“But when it happens to Her…” Marcii continued. “It affects all of us, because we’re inside of Her…”
“Essentially, yes.” Malorie replied, congratulating Marcii with a kind smile.
“But She’s everywhere!” Marcii exclaimed. “How can feelings like that be contained if they’re everywhere?”
“They can’t.” Malorie responded, her words grave and most serious.
All of a sudden Marcii understood.
Yes, of course.
Now it was all beginning to make sense.
If Mother Nature responded to their emotions with feelings all of Her own, the effects that could have on their world were simply endless.
Marcii thought back to all the times her own despair had turned the skies icy black without even realising she was doing it, forcing rain and sleet and snow to thunder down. She remembered her fear turning the air all around her to thick fog.
But it was more than that.
She thought back to all that Ekra had told her about the Storm Born.
Why were they always filled with such anger and fury?
She knew they were afraid of the storms; Ekra had told her that.
But the more Marcii thought about it, the more she came to the conclusion that fear alone couldn’t do that.
Malorie watched the young Dougherty closely as she churned her thoughts over.
It took more than just a few moments, but soon enough Marcii’s expression contorted and changed to a mixture of shock and realisation, as the answers came suddenly flooding to her.
All at once Marcii understood what Ekra had meant when she’d said Mother Nature would not do it if it were unnecessary. Suddenly she could see why Mother Nature released such furious storms every few hundred years.
They weren’t just storms, she realised.
These monstrous squalls were filled with decades, even centuries, of pent up emotion.
All those loose feelings that always manage to seep through the cr
acks and sink deeper inside of us. They always manage to pool and seethe somewhere further down below, only to come bubbling and thrashing to the surface at a much later date.
Marcii knew the feeling well.
Most people do.
It was only the same thing, the young Dougherty reasoned, just on a much larger scale.
Mother Nature was simply writhing in the same agonising, suppressed, heartfelt emotions that people were.
Suddenly it all made perfect sense.
With all this coming to light, Marcii realised just how human Mother Nature seemed to be.
But then again, as she thought on it yet even further, she realised perhaps that wasn’t quite right.
They had been born into Her world, not the other way around. So, actually, she had that backwards.
She wasn’t like them.
She wasn’t bottling her emotions up like they did.
They were like Her.
People had learned to suppress such feelings and emotions, even agonisingly so, because that was the world they had been born into.
Because their Mother Nature did the same.
The mere thought of such a thing boggled Marcii’s mind.
The sheer immensity and complexity of it all was overwhelming; so much so that it would have likely taken her a lifetime to piece all of it together.
Unfortunately, she didn’t have a lifetime. She would just have to settle for the basic knowledge she’d already gleaned.
Smiling, content in her own realisations, Marcii at last turned her yellow gaze back to Malorie.
She found her fellow witch beaming back at her with ecstatic violet eyes.
“I’m impressed.” Malorie complimented her. “It took me much longer.”
“Thank you.” Marcii replied, though as well as gratitude Malorie saw apprehension flicker across the young Dougherty’s face. “Though I get the feeling there’s still a lot more to come…” She added.
Malorie nodded and smiled encouragingly.
Taking a deep breath, Marcii steeled herself for more, hoping she would understand everything Malorie needed her to.
She got the impression she would have to, if she had any chance at all of stopping Alistair.
