by Lucia Ashta
I padded softly up the spiral stairs, following the path I knew well already. Past the second floor. Onto the third floor landing. Take a right to the end of the hall. Open the door. Up narrow stairs. Open another door to the rush of the crisp air that had only recently carried snow. Up a few more steps and out onto the expanse of the roof, where already, free of any meaningful boundaries, the infiniteness of possibilities filled my lungs in a greater way than the clean air of late spring could.
I walked calmly, with great purpose—even if it remained unidentified—to the edge of the roof. I leaned over the parapet and looked down the long fall of the cliff. I followed the line of sheer gray rock to where the precipice met crashing waves.
Water sprayed in a magnificent display of its power, leaping, reaching, ever-climbing up the rock that no human could climb. White foam marred the rock in a sign of its victory.
I knew of the water’s power. It had shown itself to me before. Now I longed desperately to know more of it, to discover how I could become a tangible part of this power.
My eyes took in the vast expanse of the water. It had no end that I could see, only a mirage of a horizon.
Somewhere, deep within that water, Mirvela and Count Washur enslaved their victims.
Suddenly, I knew that I could find the way to them. Just as Marcelo could feel the impending loss that hung over all of us already, I knew that I could find Mirvela and Count Washur. I had to find the way. I had to discover the path that led to our salvation.
There must be a way to do what we had to and survive. There was always a way, even if it was inconceivable at first.
The way was always there when one sought it out in true faith—and with love. Always, with love. The five-petal knot thrummed to life within my chest, within my heart center. Optimism leapt within me. I allowed love to weave itself through the perfect symmetry of the knot of the five elements, understanding at a deep instinctual level that at last I had glimpsed true perfection.
I stood up onto the parapet. If ever there was a time to embrace my power and the true possibilities when I left limitations behind, it was now.
I looked down at my immediate destination. The waves crashed in brilliant, violent white foam precisely where I intended to land.
I didn’t think anymore. I didn’t try to formulate a plan.
I let go.
I pushed off and plummeted into the oblivion of possibility, of love and of hope, and of true magic.
My heart leapt. My hair fluttered behind me, a wave of crimson outlining me as if with the wings of an angel, visible at last, free to be seen.
But no one saw me as I did what I knew must be done, not even the ever-watchful Sir Lancelot. I fell as heavily as a rock, on the other side of the castle, where no one watched the sheer wall that no enemy could scale.
I left behind every single limitation on that roof.
I gifted myself the freedom to become the witch that I’d always been meant to become.
I raced toward my destiny. I hurtled toward the sheets of erupting water below.
I was free at last. My heart was replete with the pure symmetry of all the elements; it was the essence of all life.
I flew, unbounded. I charged toward the water.
I had become a true witch, for however long my life continued. With each second the water drew nearer. At this speed, its surface would be as hard as rock upon impact—to a normal human.
I was no longer normal. Each second brought me closer to proving it, and each second brought me closer to enemies that could put an end to my burgeoning powers.
Count Washur and Mirvela could destroy me as they had so many others.
I’d do everything within my power to make sure they didn’t.
I tucked my head toward my chin. I pulled in a great big breath in anticipation of the frigid water that already misted the smooth skin of my face.
In the next moment my mind was wiped blank. Sudden wetness, cold, and darkness pulled me deep below, efficient, as if they were my enemies’ accomplices instead of a power of my own.
I began to sink. I couldn’t tell if I was sinking of my own volition or if Mirvela and Count Washur already knew I was here and were directing me toward them and whatever ill they wished me.
I didn’t know what fate had in store for me, or if I was in any way capable of steering this fate. All I knew was that I was doing what I had to for the people I loved. My life was nothing like what it had been when I lived at Norland Manor. I was more myself now than I’d ever been before.
And I knew, like you know something is right or wrong in your gut, that at the depths of the ocean, where the sunlight no longer reached, I would discover more of myself. There was a piece of myself waiting for me to identify it, waiting for me to reach out and grasp it, to claim it as my own.
All I had to do was to trust myself and the elements that supported all life and now clamored loudly within my chest, competing with the whooshing sound of the water pressing against my ears. All I had to do was let myself fall, without knowing where I would end up. I had to allow the water to drag me to its depths without knowing what waited for me among the silt and darkness of the sea floor.
Faith was what would allow me to survive. I clung to it, knowing all the while that I plummeted toward enemies more dangerous than anything the mysteries of the deep sea could hold.
I watched the sun fade amid a billow of red as my hair floated upward and behind me, like a dirge announcing the final trail the witch that could have been the new face of magic left behind.
The water enveloped me as if it could claim me for itself, as if four other elements didn’t beat within the five-petal knot at my center just as loudly as it did.
I plummeted further. I fell into the morass of another world. It was as if there were two planets instead of one. The earth below water was a land of its own. Nothing operated quite the same as it did on dry land. Nothing was the same.
I too was not the same already, nor would I ever be again.
I fell toward more of myself, toward the witch that I once was and the witch that I’d now given myself the chance of becoming.
I fell so far that I wondered how much more there could possibly be left for me to fall. How deep was this sea to which I still couldn’t find the bottom?
For several moments, I forgot about Mirvela and Count Washur, and even about their captives, Anna and Carlton. I traded thoughts of the water’s dangers for awe. Life beneath the surface of the sea was more diverse and colorful, even this far beneath the horizon, than I ever imagined. Everywhere, the skins of animals and plants reflected light into an array of color as loud as any rainbow I’d ever seen.
And still, I fell.
I stopped wondering and gave myself over to the miracle. For all at once I became aware of what was likely obvious to you, but that I’d forgotten to notice for all the distractions of this new wet and cold world. I was no longer breathing air. Yet I was alive. There was no struggle within my lungs. There was even less of a struggle within my heart.
It was then that I believed I’d survive this foray. It was in that very moment, when I realized that my instincts had taken care of the adjustments necessary for my survival, that I knew that when I finally left this water, I’d truly be who I was meant to become. Within the water lay the possibility of understanding the extent of my powers.
All I had to do was grasp them.
I turned. I tore my gaze from the fading sun above to look toward the ocean bottom. My powers didn’t lie in the past. They lay in the future.
At last. I was ready to embrace the person I was destined to become. I was more than a young woman. I was so much more.
There was nothing real left to fear. The most devastating fears are those that hide within.
Mirvela and Count Washur. I’m coming for you.
A shudder rippled through me, like a ripple in the water, and I knew they’d heard me.
It’s time for a shift in magic. And that time is now
.
Again, I knew they heard me. Just as I knew they began to prepare for their attack.
However, there are some things that are planned out long before they come to pass. The entirety of the universe conspires for these events to occur.
Where I allowed myself to drift downward before, I pulled my hands to my side and pulled my head in line with my body now. Immediately, my descent came faster.
I smiled to myself. I was no longer Lady Clara of the House of Norland. I was someone else entirely.
There’s no better time to grasp your destiny than right now.
I willed myself to go faster, and the water around me responded. Soon, I’d be where I needed to be. The entirety of the universe had known I’d arrive.
Then, something tore at me. Something I didn’t expect. Something that tore at the reality of a dream that had convinced me so readily of its authenticity. I startled awake, disoriented. The dream had seemed so real I fully expected to find myself wet.
I was slumped against the back of the settee in the parlor. Someone must have put my feet up and covered me, for I didn’t remember doing it. I didn’t even remember falling to sleep. I reached with a trembling hand to verify that my clothing wasn’t wet. I touched the fine taffeta and brought back a dry hand. I examined it, disbelieving. What happened to me? I didn’t fall asleep just anywhere or at anytime like some did. Mother had taught me to be proper. I slept only in bed and only at the designated times.
I looked around. Marcelo, Brave, and Sir Lancelot were gone. Mordecai and Grand-mère were there, but Sylvia and Mathieu absorbed their attention. Only one watched me. The one who’d always known me.
From across the room, Gertrude stared. Those human eyes that seemed out of place in the body of a cat bore into me. She knew. Perhaps she didn’t know exactly what had happened, but she knew something. She wouldn’t interfere, however. At least I didn’t think she would.
I hoped she wouldn’t because, as unexpected as my dream was, its message was clear. It was more than a dream. It was a message. It was a sign, one that I had every intention of following.
I would wait until everyone fell asleep that night and then I would enter the water, alone, much as the dream had shown me.
Now that I knew what I had to do, all I had to do was wait. Tonight had just become a night with the potential to define me. The dream clearly connected to something greater than me, and it had just shown me the way to spare the lives of my friends. It was a chance I wouldn’t pass up.
I stared back at yellow eyes as vibrant as my own and willed Gertrude to keep the secret I wouldn’t speak.
The time is now, sister. Tonight I go into the water. It’s time to become the witch I’m meant to become.
Mermagic
Clara and Marcelo’s adventures continue in Mermagic, Book 6 of The Witching World series.
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Chapter 1
We had a plan. We’d all agreed to it. But I also had my own plan. No one up in the castle, dark with sleep, would like it. My fiancé, Marcelo, would be terrified by it.
Still, I had no choice. I wasn’t one for stealth or deceit. But if my rogue powers, which none of us understood the extent of, could potentially save the lives of everyone I cared for, didn’t I have the obligation to try?
I realized no one would agree with my actions even as I extended one bare toe to the frigid water, yet I couldn’t allow that to stop me from doing what I believed I must.
My dream had been precise. A sign. I could do this. I had to do this. My dream had revealed that I’d be able to breathe underwater, and that beneath the sea, which bordered the Castle of Bundry, lay a secret that would lead me to understanding my full potential.
This secret—whatever it was—finally lay within my grasp. I could reach it. I could become who I was meant to become.
When something greater than us reveals the next step in our path, aren’t we obligated to take that step? If not, don’t we risk interfering with our destiny?
I stilled to feel the comforting thrumming of the five-petal knot. I accepted its reassurance and its knowing that love and loss were part of life, and of death, and that it was ultimately perfect—how it was meant to be.
I shed my clothes. Clothing would only impede my efficiency in the water. My time in the merworld as Mirvela’s captive had taught me this, and I wished fervently for the return of my mermaid tail, though I understood it wouldn’t come.
I left the burdensome pile of clothes required of a maiden of the aristocracy next to my elven shoes—definitely not a usual accessory of the nobility that chose appearances over practicality—like a beacon on the craggy shore.
I looked behind me, up the cliff, but I couldn’t see the Castle of Bundry from there, nor could I see the inevitable looks of betrayal that would come with the first light of morning. It was just as well. It had taken me much of the night to steel my resolve.
I took the deepest breath I could. It wouldn’t last me more than a minute underwater.
But now I knew that I could breathe without air. My dream had been clear. I could breathe within the water. All that was needed from me was to trust.
I could trust. I had to trust. I had to do this.
My entry into the water wouldn’t be as dramatic as it was in my dream, when I’d flown from above and dived straight into the water’s depths without hesitation. I could have done the same, simulating flight from the parapet that crowned the castle. But awake, my mind fought with my heart in spurts, arguing whether I should do it.
I willed my mind to listen to my heart—for it’s always true—and stepped into the water.
Immediately, the cold of it sped up my body, clamoring the alarm. My skin contracted, my nipples turned to stone, and my stomach clenched. I made myself take one step further into the inky well of promise and despair. I banished the desperate pleas for reason that followed.
I closed my eyes to the eternity of water that stretched out before me. I made myself breathe slower than I ever had before—for there is real magic within the breath, even for those that don’t possess magic within their blood—calming the pulse that attempted to race away from me like a wild, stampeding horse.
I called out to the water. Here I am. I’m ready for whatever is meant to be. Envelope me. Guide me. Take me. I’m ready to become.
Almost as a quiet afterthought, Protect me, for there was still a part of me that was a frightened young woman, raised in the House of Norland, an infinity ago. Nothing early in life had prepared me for this, the biggest of any step I’d yet taken.
I glanced once at Marcelo’s promise ring upon my finger. The serpent of knowledge and the dragon of magic slept peacefully, as I hoped the man who’d given it to me did far above from where I now stood.
The ring, which at times glowed with the combined strength of Marcelo’s power and my own, made stronger by the intensity of our connection, lay dormant too. There was no reassuring glow telling me that, together, Marcelo and I were greater than one. That reassurance called out, faint, from my heart, telling me the man I loved was always with me.
It was for him that I was doing this. And for Gertrude. To protect her from Count Washur and any future harm he could inflict on her. He’d be free to do as he wished with my little sister. After all, by law, she was his wife, and the laws protected men, not women. She’d be obligated to do what Count Washur wished of her—every foul bit. And Grand-mère, and Mordecai, and Brave, and Sir Lancelot, Sylvia, Mathieu, and for Anna and Carlton, and the many, many others Mirvela and Count Washur had harmed and would continue to harm if we did nothing to prevent it.
Those with the knowledge and the power to do something to correct grave injustice have the obligation to do so. I’ve always believed this. I just never thought I’d be the one doing the correcting.
My dream showed me the way. My heart purred its reassurance, telling me with each beat that there was no better way tha
n to follow the guidance of the heart, even if that guidance delivered you straight into the jaws of death.
Protect me, I called out once more, not knowing anymore whom or what exactly I was requesting protection from, in the language in which all the elements speak: silence.
Immediately, the water answered through its sister. A cold breeze whispered the water’s reassurances. Red hair undulated behind me like the water that rose to greet me, tickling at my toes, beckoning me into its abyss, with promises of success. Did I dare to believe these reassurances?
I did. I had to.
I looked behind once more, up to the top of the cliff, where Castle Bundry hid behind forbidding slate gray.
Then, I stepped further into the water until all that remained was a trail of red, a vestige of the last traces of my humanity.
I’d become something greater than just human. I now embodied more than the heartbeat of one human being.
Within me, the five elements beat just as loudly as my heart. I couldn’t go back to the life I’d once had. I’d passed the point of no return long ago.
It was just as well. There was nothing I wanted to go back to.
There was only forward—and the opportunity to spare all those I loved from the torment of two magicians whose hearts had deformed and twisted into something no longer recognizable as a heart.
With one more step, even the trail of red disappeared from sight, swallowed fully by the eager water and its plummeting depths. The Clara that I knew, and everyone that loved me knew, was swallowed whole too.
As in my dream, I began to sink quickly, and as in my dream, I faced the depths of the sea head-on.
If I was going to confront Mirvela and Count Washur, I’d do so fully in my power. I’d do so with every bit of strength I possessed. And if it was death that I sank to, a death that I’d have to face and ultimately learn to embrace, then I’d do so.
Either way, I’d do what I had to do. My heart and I thrummed as one.
