Carrying Grandmother’s promise, I went quietly into the night and followed what was expected of me. It was a night of expectations that played out in unexpected ways.
FIVE
The sun was near set when I left Grandmother’s house for the last time. Together, we walked hand in hand to the Acolyte Village and onward to the Ancient Circle. The sarsen stones were taller than any man and the centuries-old oak trees were festooned with wild-growing mistletoe. A large bonfire was lit after our arrival, signaling the beginning of the ceremony. On the Main Island, a similar bonfire burned in the rock half-circle where the High Council met. Streaks of red, orange, and yellow from the setting sun stretched across the horizon. Beyond the colored edge, the clouds gathered with a vengeance. The faint scent of rain hung in the air and I knew the question on everyone’s mind wasn’t if it would rain but rather when. Everyone prayed that it would hold off until the coming of dawn. Rain showers during the Rites threatened failure. The tell-tale humidity was starting to settle in the air. A wave of pride flooded through me as the Acolytes readied me for the ceremony.
While the Acolytes worked seeing to my final preparations, Grandmother stood before us, her hands raised to the sky, her head thrown back, speaking directly to the Goddess. Tradition required that I remained silent through the dressing, but I could not help but gasp at the sight of my gown. The women that had overseen its making dyed the cloth to mirror the hue of moonlight. The long, flowing dress was colored a milky white with a slight touch of silvery blue. It was soft against the skin, far softer than our normal clothing. I felt beautiful wearing it.
The Acolytes decorated my hair with lesser celandine flowers, threading the blossoms through the long plait that hung down my back. The Huntress crown, an ornamental headdress fashioned to resemble a does’ face, was gently placed on my head. Slender, delicate apple branches, threads of mistletoe, and rowan sprigs were woven together to form the does’ ears and face. The Acolytes had painted it to resemble a doe’s coloring. Wearing it, I thought of the numerous women that came before me. As with each of them, the crown rested over the circumference of my head, coming down just enough to cover my forehead. It stopped short at my eyes, keeping them unobstructed in order to see my way. The Women of the Isle painted me with sacred symbols and once I was ready, they each hugged me and left. My grandmother was the last one to embrace me. She held me tightly and told me to remember that she loved me. I whispered how much I loved her too as the tightness of unshed tears rose in my throat. Placing one last affectionate hand upon my cheek, Grandmother kissed my forehead and left.
While I was being groomed, the High Priestess arrived, announced by a long, definitive call from an animal-bone blowing horn. Reena appeared before me. In her hands, she carried a tan, crockery bowl containing a liquid that sloshed inside its basin.
Moon Water, I thought. Reena has brought the Moon Water. The moment is finally here.
Moon Water was pond water imbued with the magic of the Moon. The Women of the Isle, the devoted band of Acolytes, collected it three days before the start of the Rites ceremony. Once gathered, the basin was left outside on moss-covered altars built from smaller bluestones. There it sat untouched to absorb the magical properties from the moon’s light. Moon Water was integral to a prosperous outcome. Moon Water dispelled negative energy. Drinking the charged elixir purified for the event to come. Its power heightened my femininity and bestowed me with the Goddess’ power. Consuming it guaranteed that I would be pure, body, mind, spirit and soul. No Rites was complete without it.
I took the bowl from Reena’s hands and eagerly took a long, steady sip. I expected it to taste different, but it didn’t. It was just water. Slightly metallic and tasting of the earth. I took several more sips until the bowl was empty and Reena smiled at me. Wordlessly, Reena and I took hold of each other’s hands and we walked, stopping in between the two braziers that blazed furiously in the heart of the Ancient Circle. Everyone fell silent. One by one, my sisters—the Acolytes, began to sing, their pure, high-pitched voices like hallowed wails filling the air. Their voices blended harmoniously, combining as one. As the wind picked up, licking furiously at the flames, the natural light gave way to the intense glow of the burning fires. The Sisters abruptly split apart, spinning, twirling, bowing, and stepping independently, moving in a dance pattern whose beat source came from the natural rhythm of the Earth. The effortless way that they moved was enchanting. My soul soared several times watching as they danced in infinite patterns, their arms outstretched with lit torches blazing in their hands. Their dance was elegant, ethereal, and sanctified. Sacred. Their dance was their prayer. A prayer for protection. A prayer for watchfulness. A prayer bearing the spirit of a child. A prayer for me. A prayer for success.
Just as quickly as they gathered, the Women separated apart and formed two lines flanking either side of me, facing the pathway that led to the Sacred Cave and the First Dwelling. One by one, they lined the rows of light that I could see through the thick foliage, burning brightly in the distance. The Acolytes followed closely behind as I started my journey through the forest. To hear the air filled with their raised voices, repeating the songs that my grandmother had initially sung, only heightened the magic of the moment. Their harmony invoked something within me that is still hard to describe. It wasn’t just a feeling, it was a primal instinct. It was transcendent. I was connected to the Earth and filled with the love and kindness of the Goddess. With each step, their voices grew louder. Braziers shone for as far as I could see. I could smell the scent of a heady bouquet—yew, oak, holly, and mistletoe rise in the humid air. The pungent fragrance was intoxicating. The closer we got, the stronger the power gathered within my bones. The spirit of the Huntress filled my body. It was no longer my blood that coursed through my veins. No longer my lungs that drew in air. No, it was the Huntress who was now in control. Her spirit and mine were one. The intertwining of our spirits made me dizzy yet elated. I was the Huntress and great pride surged through me.
Did every young woman experience this? I thought to myself quietly. The women who had all gone to the First Dwelling were not allowed to speak of their experiences. The only proof of success had been the presence of a growing belly mere weeks later. I asked the Women several times but was shushed.
“Each woman’s experience with the Hunter is her own.” One of the Acolytes warned sternly and advised me to not ask again. I did as she had asked but the question still stood at the forefront of my mind.
Silently, we followed until we came to the head of the trail leading to my ultimate destination. I turned to my escorts, both nervous and saddened that this was where we would part. They each took their turns to embrace me once more. With a kiss on the forehead, they departed and left me standing alone. The last to embrace me was Ibira, whose eyes held a secret that her mouth was forbidden to convey. Remaining quiet, I listened to the ever-distancing harmonies of singing voices as they blended with the ever-growing sounds of the forest. The urge to continue tugged at me and I walked, moving at a slow pace until I reached the mouth of the cave. The First Dwelling. This sacred cave had gotten its name because this was where my many times' great-grandmother, Maren, conceived the first child of the new world. This was where our people and our beliefs originated. This sacred space was the life source of our community.
************
The cave entrance was small and narrow. The meager entrance gave me pause to think about the height of the First People. Were they short and thin, able to enter the cave without trouble? Even though I was not tall, and I was slender, I knew that I would have to enter sideways. The cave door would allow me to walk in face first.
I stopped, taking in the vine-covered, mossy round-shaped cave and its insignificant entrance. This cave had seen centuries of women and men join as one. Ravene was conceived here. I had to trust in what the Goddess had in store for me. I had been chosen and the time had come to fulfill the duty laid at my feet. My mind drifted off in contemplative t
hought, but I quickly brought myself out of it. Now was the time for the Huntress to be joined by her Hunter. The mouth of the cave was a step up from the forest floor. Holding on to one side of the cave’s walls, I hoisted myself up and smoothed out my robes once my feet were firmly planted on the steady surface. For as far as I could see, the cave tunnel was lit with blazing miniature cauldrons sitting inside recesses carved into the cave walls. The spicy, powerful scent of rosemary and the soft, earthy fragrance of lavender mingled with the dampness of the cave, intensified by the dense humidity. The two herbs together banished any negative energy. The familiar smell was a small comfort for it reminded me of a similar brazier that burned back at the Grotto. As I drew in a loud, steadying breath, a booming crack of thunder rocked the air. The rain would be here shortly.
My feet moved on their own. I moved bit by bit, feeling the coolness of the ground under my bare feet. The heat from the flames was warm on the sides of my face. Everything was quiet. I expected it would be so, seeing that it would only be Canwyn and me from this point on. A twig snapping behind me stopped me in my tracks. It was followed by someone breathing heavily behind me.
My Hunter, I thought. He’s reached me far sooner than expected. I was still for a moment, giving him time to enter the cave. My body trembled as I waited anxiously for him to find me. It was only when I could smell the primal scent of his sweat and feel the heat from his body on my back that I resumed walking. Suddenly, his rough hands grabbed my shoulders and yanked me backward. The force threw my balance off and sent a wave of unexpected panic coursing through me.
Something was wrong. I knew it with every fiber of my being. All sense of peace, sacrament, and harmony was now replaced by a malicious force emanating from the walls. Strong, coarse hands squeezed my shoulders, their fingernails digging deep into my skin.
“Move,” The voice ordered and shoved me hard. I stumbled forward, but somehow, I remained on my feet. The hair on my arms rose as I realized that the person standing behind me wasn’t Canwyn. The contentment in my belly soured into a mixture of fear and hatred.
What had happened to Canwyn? I didn’t know and I was suddenly afraid to ask. All I knew was that whoever it was behind me, was angry, aggressive and intended to harm me. He groaned with disgust and roughly shoved me forward once more. This time, I crashed against the wall. My head struck the edge of one of the recesses and I saw black. I landed hard on my hands and knees, my head wobbly from hitting my head. The malevolent male, irritated at my fall, kicked my stomach, knocking my breath from me and loomed over me, laughing evilly. Over the course of a thousand lives, I would know that laugh anywhere. Cal. Cal was in the tunnel with me. I tried to scramble to my feet, frantically reaching for anything and finding nothing. I needed to run, to flee this place and put as much distance us that I could manage. All attempts were fruitless. Each time I came close, he kicked the breath from my lungs again. What came next was the worst moment of my life.
************
I was repeatedly raped on the night of the Spring Rites when I was the Huntress Incarnate. Instead of finding a gentle lover in Canwyn, Cal took me many times, brutally and against my will. The pain of him forcing himself inside me left me violated, agonized, and afraid.
Cal dragged me by the hair into the sacred space and threw me hard against the stone platform. My ribs collided against the solid rock. The force knocked the wind from me once more. My lungs struggled to recapture air. Splayed out on the floor, Cal forced himself upon me, pinning me to the ground so that I couldn’t fight back. Once the first assault was over, he punched me. My jaw throbbed from the force of the blow. Tears burned in my eyes as I tried to process what had happened. Seeing my weakness, Cal pounced on me again, repeating his savage attack a second time.
The third attack was the worst. Cal grabbed a fist full of my hair and dragged me to my knees. Unable to protest due to shock, he violently slammed me against the frigid stone wall and thrust himself into my backside. Bile rose at the base of my throat as he excruciatingly thrust himself into the small, tight opening of my rectum. Over and over he pushed me beyond the limits of what I could bear until I was left sobbing, broken, and weak.
I managed to crawl across the floor and braced myself upon the stone platform where Canwyn and I were supposed to consummate the Hunter and Huntress ceremony. My mind was hazy, barely able to comprehend the horror that I had endured. As I clung to the stone surface, desperate for help, Cal rushed up on me and slammed my face against the roughly chiseled edge. My eyes watered anew as an intense pain radiated across the curve of my skull, causing my temples to throb.
Cal maniacally laughed as blood ran down my face from the fresh wound above my eye. I watched in frozen horror as he strutted about naked, his blood-covered cock hanging limply as he boasted about killing Canwyn in the forest just outside the cave door.
“How did you get here?” I demanded feebly with a frightened little voice that I did not recognize as my own.
“It was simple, really,” His mouth twisted into a wolfish smile and I cringed at the confidence he exuded. “I waited for your little Hunter in the brush. When he came in view, I grabbed him from behind, slit his throat, and cut his heart out. It was exhilarating watching the blood leave his body so quickly. I could have watched him die on the forest floor many times over.” There was a sickening level of delight in his voice.
“Cal’s mind is not balanced. You are best to stay away from him. There is no telling what he can do.” Eweln used to warn me, pointing to her temple. She always encouraged me to trust my inner- feelings, especially when it came to him. I had tried to avoid him at all costs, but it seems, every attempt was futile.
Now, I knew what disgusting depths Cal would stoop to. To commit murder was taboo in our society. It was the one unforgiveable crime that was punished with death. There had been murderers in our midst before, but those that had been captured were burned alive at the funerary pits while the community watched. The family of the victim was always permitted to light the fires. It freed them of any wrongdoing or misplaced blame. Those that fled, were banished forever, banned from lifting the mists, and cursed so that their wicked cruelty would come back to them three-fold.
“Those fools will never know that it was me who killed Canwyn,” He crowed wickedly. “I made it look as though he was killed by a boar. Of course, I couldn’t leave it there. Once I watched the last of Canwyn’s blood leak out, I hunted and killed a boar, leaving its corpse close to Canwyn’s to add credence to my story. When the others learn of what I want them to know, they will praise me for killing the boar and for going forward to continue the Rites.” He said smugly, forgetting that boars couldn’t cut hearts from bodies. No one would believe him, I thought. This was not how the ritual worked. No one else was permitted on the Island, save those partaking in the ceremony.
“That doesn’t explain why you were here,” I managed to choke out as the pain in my head threatened to steal my voice. “You’re forbidden to be here, remember?”
“If I tell them that I was fishing and heard Canwyn scream, they will believe me. There’s a bundle of fish lying on a boat on the shore closest to where Canwyn fell. You see, my dear Yvaine, I didn’t miss a single detail.” Cal’s perfect mouth curved into an abomination of a smile. “The others will say that it was by divine providence that I just happened to be in the area. No one will suspect that I orchestrated and executed this beautiful plan.”
“No one will believe you,” The words came out of my mouth before I realized I had said them. “I will tell them what you have done. “You won’t get away with this.” I threatened but instead of taking the bait, he simply cackled madly.
“Oh, you’re trying to be bold now. Where was that spirit earlier? It would have made taking you all that much more pleasurable!” He sneered and clapped his hands together. My flesh tingled fearfully in response. “Yvaine, you, beautiful fool. Don’t you see, that is the genius of my plan?” He edged closer to me, his athletic frame l
ooming over me as he stared down the length of his nose. “You’re right, of course. The only way they will know any different is if you tell them. And if you mention this to anyone, I will cut your sister's heart out like I did Canwyn’s. Once I’m done with Ravene, I’ll slice Eweln’s throat while she sleeps. So, if you want to see them dead, then by all means speak up. You won’t though. I know you. You will keep silent to protect them.” He hissed, reminding me of a serpent. A ripple of dread coursed through me. Cal threatened to kill Ravene and Eweln. If there was one thing that could be trusted about him, it was that he kept his promises. I had no doubt that he would do exactly what he said he would. Rivers of Canwyn’s dried blood painted his arms, wrists, palms, chest, and left streaks to his elbows. All proof enough to convince me that he would deliver on what he said.
Unexpectedly, Cal rushed towards me. His hard knuckles cracked against my cheekbone. His long, vicious feet kicked my stomach. His sharp teeth bit my arms and legs. Cal frantically hunted for any place to inflict pain. My assault was agonizing and fierce. I have relived its horror and will not put myself through the retelling of it again. I accept that it happened, that he took me against my will, trying to kill my spirit as he abused my body, laughing his maniacal laughter and telling me in a low, disgusting voice that I wanted it, that I loved it, and that he would kill me if I dared to fight back.
Cal was mad. He left me bleeding, broken, humiliated, terrified, and sore on that cold, dirty floor. I foolishly assumed that his last assault would be the end. That he would let me go, signaling the end of the Rites. He didn’t.
Cal tortured me through the remainder of the night and well into the dawn hours. His final act of cruelty had yet to come. I lay in the shredded, blood and semen-soaked remnants of my gown, sobbing into the ground, curled up with my back up against the cave wall. Cal jumped to his feet, his mania feeding him another wave of energy. He stood over me completely nude. The source of his maleness stood fully aroused and I feared he was going to take me again. Cal had something far more sinister planned. Going back to his haphazardly discarded clothes, Cal pulled out a long, sleek, silver, foreign-made dagger and held it out for me to see.
The Island of Mists Page 10
