by Jen Valena
“What happened to you?”
“I never knew how I fit into the world.”
“You have your answer.”
“But all the Magian Sauvants have disappeared. How will people benefit from these ceremonies in the future?” Ithia asked.
“But not all Woman Sages are gone. For you, now, there are teachers, and future Sages, here in this circle—to show you a glimpse of your potential.”
“Everyone has more faith in me than I do.”
“You underestimate yourself. And yet, you initiated your Actuation, you called Tyrsten back from death, and you now find yourself here, to name only a few accomplishments.”
“How did you know about me helping Tyrsten?”
“Mother Urica.”
✹ ✹ ✹
Ithia couldn’t take her mind off Tyrsten even though Samara politely scolded her whenever she voiced concerns for him. Ithia was troubled by the memory of his scream as she had gone under the water. Only someone’s death would sound like that.
Samara explained, “We call this gathering The Circle in reference to our group and the surrounding protected area. One mustn’t break The Circle by leaving, but that is easy to obey, since it encompasses a vast area. The boundaries were energetically sealed only moments after you, our final member, had entered.”
✹ ✹ ✹
Within a day of her arrival, Ithia felt stronger. She attributed her health to the women taking turns working their particular healing ways on her. They used modalities such as massage, herbs, energy work, pressure points and chanting.
Maybe there was something to this Charism. She hoped that some had found Tyrsten as well.
Ithia grew impatient for answers and finally asked Samara, “Where is this Mother Urica hiding?”
“She is setting the energy for our work this moon cycle. Mother Urica must focus her intentions to hold this space. She is also calling in the Guardians to assist us.”
✹ ✹ ✹
Ithia helped prepare for the commencement celebration that evening. They collected a huge pile of firewood meant for two separate fires. One was a sacred fire, to be tended to for the entire moon cycle. The other was for the circle of women that would gather for the night’s ceremony.
Ithia was instructed to say a blessing of thanks for each branch. Every object procured was honored. When she did this, the ceremonially collected wood emanated auras similar to a living tree.
Ithia was in a heightened state of awareness as she moved around the camp. Perhaps this was due to the state of mind required by her tasks, or perhaps it was the collective energy of these powerful women. Everything was undeniably present.
The day passed by quickly. Daylight was growing shorter, but Ithia didn’t mind working in the dark. Since receiving her Magian eyes, she no longer experienced complete darkness.
When it was time for the ceremony to begin, Ithia was suddenly nervous. The women gathered in a large circle around the firewood. All the women joined hands with their right palms down and the left palms up. There was an empty space across from Ithia.
A figure slowly approached. Ithia knew this was the elusive Mother Urica.
Ithia’s breath caught in her throat. She was overcome for a moment. An immense energy radiated from the old woman.
Urica sang softly as she merged with the circle. She was dressed in white ceremonial robes. Her eyes closed. She held a small flame in her hands. With Ithia’s vision, a stronger light came from Urica’s bright aura.
Urica spoke in a commanding voice, “Ma-Halla!”
The women echoed, “Ma-Halla!”
Ithia followed suit.
With a quick, deliberate move, Mother Urica tossed the flame into the center of the firewood. She grasped hands with the two women who stood beside her, and everyone lifted their joined hands upward. The firewood ignited and rose up swiftly, soon raging above their heads. As the women lowered their arms, the fire receded into a calm burn that illuminated and warmed their faces. The flames flickered too many shadows to see more details of the old woman.
Mother Urica began the ceremony. “This night, we gather as the essence of Womanhood. Tonight, we begin the moon-cycle celebration of the Winter Solstice. The Solstices, Equinoxes and the Moon cycles are concrete expositions of the heavens, potent with meaning. We will explore their meaning during this moon time.” She took a long, slow breath. “We honor all things here. We honor all our sisters and our brothers and those that walk between. We drop our titles here. We are not mothers or daughters or wives or widows. We represent the sacred Feminine. We are here to work with that power. This Solstice is very powerful since it occurs in conjunction with the Full Moon.”
Mother Urica opened her eyes. Ithia saw an intensity to her focus. One by one, Urica directed that focus to the eyes of each woman. Ithia’s nerves prickled as she anticipated the gaze falling upon her. When it did, a tugging sensation drew her consciousness toward the old woman. Ithia wondered if everyone experienced the same strange sensation with the force of Urica’s gaze.
Mother Urica closed her eyes. “We welcome a new face tonight.” She then chanted a song in an ancient Ma’thean tongue. Ithia wasn’t sure how, but she understood the meaning of the bygone language—a language written in her genetic code. The words resonated deeper than the current Ma’thean tongue.
The women joined with Urica to create a haunting chorus. Ithia imagined it as an angel’s choir, elevating the energetic vibration in the circle. The words embraced Ithia’s soul.
Welcome Grace, Aether, Infinity, Woman,
We are One
Welcome Moon, Sun, Stars, Ma’thea, Woman,
Awaken Spirit
Ithia buzzed with excitement. She wanted to laugh as ancestral memory bubbled up within her. Although her life had spun so chaotically, things seemed right in this moment.
Mother Urica stopped the chant and enjoyed the gift of electrified silence. “I am Urica. I am Woman.”
The woman to her left spoke, “I am Aloma. I am Woman.” The pattern continued clockwise around the circle.
Ithia’s throat tightened. She didn’t resonate with feminine or masculine. These women were asking her to celebrate a polarity she was essentially unfamiliar with. However, Ithia realized she was here to learn and that meant understanding these ceremonies the best she could.
When it was Ithia’s turn, she was anxious, but she spoke clearly, “I am Ithia. I am Woman.” A wave of empowerment that she was not expecting saturated her being. She instantly realized that she had just claimed herself—and an aspect of her power.
When the final woman had spoken, Mother Urica swung her arms back, as did the others. They shouted in unison, “Ma-halla!” and then swung their arms to the sky.
Urica picked up a stick beside her and lit one end in the fire. She walked over to the smaller pile of firewood yards outside the circle. “This is our sacred fire. This flame will continually burn the entire time we occupy this space. As we take turns tending to it, night and day, our sacred duty is to hold space for those Sisters who are Visioning.” She lit the kindling.
“Live your truth, my Sisters.” Mother Urica raised one arm to the sky and the other to the land. “We thank all the powers that protect us and hold us during our days. We dedicate our merits to all. Bless those present and those outside of this circle. Aum-lo.”
With this pronouncement, the ceremony ended.
Urica immediately returned to her dwelling while the other women embraced one another in welcoming hugs. Ithia was overwhelmed with affection, but impatient to talk with Urica.
Ithia stared at Urica’s hut—a fact that Samara noticed. “Not yet, dear one,” she whispered. “All in its time.”
✹ ✹ ✹
Ithia was assigned to watch the sacred fire the next evening. She was nervous that she would somehow mess it up. She listened as a group of women sent prayers for those who were partaking in Visioning.
“What is Visioning?”
The lad
ies all turned and stared at Ithia.
Ithia wriggled with self-consciousness.
Aloma touched Ithia’s hand. “We forget you are not familiar with our ways.”
“And that is why you are here.” Samara comforted her with a smile. “Visioning is where you isolate yourself for a few days to have an experience relating to your power. It involves staying within a circle alone and fasting.”
“Each experience is different,” Jemma said, “Your power may come to you in a song, a vision, an enlightenment or a power animal.”
“With the fire, we set intentions to hold the sacred space for them.” Samara held her arms as if cradling those souls. “For those Visioning, symbolically, we eat our meals for them, sending them strength.”
✹ ✹ ✹
That night at the fire, Ithia relieved Jemma of her post.
Ithia’s thoughts erupted. “I might do something wrong.”
Jemma cupped her hands. “I imagine that I am a bowl that the others are all cradled within.”
“If I do something stupid—like fall asleep—will something bad happen?”
“No. Mother Urica is in charge of protection, this is a supporting role.”
Left alone, Ithia allowed her consciousness to expand and encompass the entire grounds. All the women were held in her thoughts, in a strengthening ball of light.
For the first time, she felt she contributed to others.
✹ ✹ ✹
Early the next day, Ithia practiced morning meditations with the other women. Samara called to her, “Mother Urica requests your presence.”
“But…” Ithia bit her lip. “I’m not ready.”
Mother Urica sat in a small circular room, eyes closed. Ithia entered alone, feeling she had asked for more than she could handle now. A white scarf cowl was wrapped over Urica’s sleek, gray hair. She wore a long, white robe over a white dress. Although Urica’s skin was fairly smooth, Ithia speculated that she was probably in her sixties. However, every moment, Ithia’s estimate changed. With one glance, Urica appeared to be a thousand years old, and with the next, she appeared to be a youth.
“Sit.” Mother Urica said without opening her eyes.
Ithia obeyed.
Minutes passed before Urica spoke again. Ithia wanted to fidget, but she restrained herself.
“Why have you come here?”
Ithia was confused. “Didn’t you want to see me?”
“Why have you come to Ma’thea?”
Ithia was unnerved at the fact that Urica had yet to open her eyes. “I was abducted and brought here.”
“Why did you make that happen?”
“I didn’t. It happened to me.”
“Are you sure?”
Was this a riddle? Ithia took a moment before she asked, “Are you saying that I brought this upon myself?”
“Before your abduction, did you question your life’s purpose?”
Ithia thought back to that day on the hill. “I did ask, ‘What am I supposed to do with my life?’ But I wasn’t asking to be kidnapped.”
“There is a saying on Earth, ‘Be careful what you ask for,’” Urica chuckled. She opened her eyes. The irises were completely black.
“Your eyes.” Ithia leaned forward to confirm their color. “Are you—”
“I am a Magian Innocenti. My story is hidden from most so that I may keep the knowledge preserved. However, your story has this world astir. A young woman who travels with a dangerous young Magian Sidari, wanted by Garrick at all costs.” She laughed. “And only a select few know your secret.”
“My eyes?”
Urica smirked. “That is only the beginning.” Urica poured two cups of tea.
Ithia noticed that Urica didn’t watch as she poured. In fact, her eyes never focused on any one thing.
“Mother Urica, I don’t want to be rude, but—”
“I am blind,” she interrupted. “Yet, I see very well. One is only truly blind if one does not wish to see.” Urica handed Ithia a cup. “Ah, yes, so many mysteries, I see them swimming in your mind. You will have your answers, though you may find, as I have, that you are my age before answers come.”
“What did you mean by ‘only the beginning’ of my secrets?”
“You have discovered things that make no sense to you. Secrets that have been kept. You are bright, if not a bit stubborn, and undoubtedly will uncover the questions you should be asking, and are now beginning to ask.”
All in one frantic breath, Ithia unloaded, “How did my parents die? Why wasn’t I told where I came from? Was Gramps in on the secret too? What does my Magian pendant mean? What does Garrick want with me? How can I help Ma’thea?”
“Yes, you have given it some thought.” Mother Urica filled the room with the roar of laughter.
Even Ithia got caught up in the tonic of her laugh and let out a chuckle. “I’ve been a bit overwhelmed.”
“Understandable.” Urica became very still. “You hoped that I would have the answers.”
“You don’t?” Ithia deflated, her shoulders rounding forward.
“Some answers can only be revealed by living them.”
“How much do you know about me?”
“I have seen enough. However, there is a protective mask over your life that even I cannot penetrate. I have pieces, like you. And there is much yet to be written by you.”
Ithia’s eye caught a translucent glimmer of a silver cloud-shaped wolf that sat at Urica’s side. Her mind veered to Tyrsten. A shiver ran up her spine at the thought of it being his ghost.
Urica sipped her tea. “You worry about him.”
“Of course.”
“Your gifts exceed my expectations. It is interesting you can see my spirit companion. However, this Wolf belongs to me, not him.”
Ithia inspected her hands. “He might be hurt or—” Ithia took a deep breath.
“You believe you will never see him again.”
“Is Tyrsten okay?”
“Does it matter? What would you do now? Force him to leave his calling for romance?”
“No. I wouldn’t want him to give up his calling.”
“Focus on you.” Urica simply smiled. “Ready yourself for Visioning. Samara will instruct you on your preparations.” Ithia began to interrupt, but Urica raised a hand to stop her. “There is much to uncover before we speak again.”
11 ✹ Fate’s Charism
The stars may show us the way, but it is our own momentum and deliverance by divine Grace,
plucked from the Fates that propels us toward Enlightenment.
— Mother Urica
Huldo clutched his brother’s limp body. “He is losing a lot of blood. If Ithia were here—” He choked back his despair. “She could cure him.”
“There are other healers.”
“Too far away.” Huldo’s eyes welled up. “He cannot die! He cannot.”
“It is not over.” Feron made a quick assessment of the blood covering Huldo’s hands. “We need to stop the bleeding.”
With Tyrsten’s life teetering in the balance and Ithia gone, Huldo’s normally carefree attitude cracked.
“We have skills too.” Feron attempted to calm him with confidence. “Surely, we have medicines out here—a cure.”
Feron’s stern reminder helped shake Huldo out of his fear.
“Yes.” Huldo said, “We can put pressure on the wound to reduce the bleeding. His brain is injured and likely swelling. There are herbs that inhibit this.” Huldo’s eyes were wet again. “Ithia. She could need us too.”
“We must focus on the task at hand,” Feron reminded. “Healing Tyrsten.”
Huldo jumped on his horse and charged off toward a meadow he believed would have the plants he needed for Tyrsten’s injuries.
Feron stared at Tyrsten’s sallow face, worried. Feron hoped that Tyrsten might hear his call back to health. “Tyrsten? You must get better. We cannot lose you.” He pressed a cloth to the wound, and the bleeding began to slow. “How can I s
it here and do nothing as you fade away? Ithia said that perhaps we underestimate ourselves.”
Feron placed his hands on either side of Tyrsten’s head. “Please, Great Source, I ask you to help me help him, so that he may live and do great things. It is not his time to go.”
He waited, allowing his mind to be open to the healing energies. Very faintly, his hands began to tingle. It wasn’t as intense as Ithia described, but it was there. He focused, sending the energy to repair the damage to Tyrsten’s head.
When Huldo returned, nearly an hour later, he glimpsed Feron’s glowing auric field. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to heal him.”
“I could see it.” Huldo mouth dropped in awe. “We do have greater potential.”
“The bleeding stopped.” Feron smiled weakly. “I would not have tried if not for Ithia.”
Huldo examined his brother. “His color improves.”
“Did you find a cure?” Feron asked.
“A root to keep the swelling down. In conjunction with your progress, we might actually heal him.”
✹ ✹ ✹
Ithia concentrated on her task at hand. Samara instructed her on the preparations for Visioning. Usually a participant prepared every morning for an entire solar-turn, but hers was a special case. Ithia didn’t like being a special case. Obviously nervous, Samara assured her that all would go as it should.
Over four days, Ithia constructed a long rope by weaving strips of coarse, wool fabric together—one tie for each day of the year.
A special diet of fruits and vegetables was required to ready her body for the fasting. She was no longer asked to tend the sacred fire. That fire was intended for her now, and for the other women already Visioning in the woods.
