Magical Memories

by Donna Fletcher

  Choose wisely and repeat no mistakes.

  She had offered him caution in his choices and reminded him not to repeat past actions that had caused his downfall. Unknowingly he had seemed to heed her warning. Had she placed those words there out of protection? Out of concern? Out of love?

  Cherish life and hold it dear.

  She had reminded him how important it was that life be valued and held close to one’s heart. Another place one found love.

  Fill no hearts and souls with fear.

  She had warned him of using fear to intimidate and he certainly understood fear. He had experienced it many times when he had watched those who felt stronger impose their will on the weak. Greed took precedence over love when fear was present.

  Love.

  One way or another it always managed to show up in the spell.

  Surround yourself with magic and light.

  Here she reminded him of his power, the power of good, the power of magic and light, the power to offer hope and love to all those who sought magic; not only a witch’s power, but everyone’s power.

  And seek not to return to the dark night.

  She cautioned him not to return to his past ways. Not to step into the darkness and forget that light and magic existed. In the dark there was no hope or love—only fear. It was a stark reminder of how easily darkness can invade the soul.

  If by chance you should lose your way; remember all these words I say.

  She had even placed a safety precaution within the spell, unselfishly offering him her help if he had trouble keeping on his path. Had she done that out of love?

  Magical memories you will recall.

  Magic. She had made certain that they were magical memories so that they returned to him in a magical manner. His dreams. She had allowed him to recall his past through his dreams. She had carefully planned this spell, covering all areas she felt he would have difficulty with. She had protected him with her love.

  The choice will be yours; to stand or to fall.

  And in the end she had given him a choice... to stand or to fall. But which one was the wise choice? Which one would be done for love?

  He rubbed his weary eyes, tired of looking at the symbols and tired of trying to make sense of the spell. Tempest had certainly worked her magic magnificently.

  He shook his head. That was a thought Marcus would have. Tempest had worked her magic, all right, but it was the magic of love. An endless love, an all-forgiving love, a love that gave hope and possibility... a love that gave him a second chance.

  Michael understood that, cherished the thought, but deep inside him he felt his power stir, swell and rise majestically to the surface. It was an overwhelming force that made him feel unconquerable.

  The question now was...what choice did he make?

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  The dreams stopped. They were no longer necessary. Michael recalled more and more of his past every day. There were days that he liked what he remembered, and there were other days that he found the memories difficult. But he dealt with them; he wanted to. He wanted to make sense of who he was because he suddenly didn’t know himself.

  And he needed to understand Tempest better. The idea that she was a witch didn’t disturb him. The idea that she was the Ancient One was another matter. He sat in the living room reading the few books that made reference to the Ancient One and he made mental notes.

  She was constantly referred to as ageless or born at the dawn of time. Her power is believed to be uncommon and to come from light and love. With her aged wisdom she attempts to enlighten and unite the world for the betterment of humankind, and she does so unselfishly.

  She teaches her work to those she feels who are worthy, and she never stops learning, gaining a higher knowledge or sharing her wisdom. According to the writings there is no other witch as powerful as the Ancient One.

  Michael could understand Marcus wishing to unite their powers. It would be an awesome joining of forces and together they would be indomitable. There would be nothing they wouldn’t be able to accomplish.

  That could be a frightening or enlightening thought. If used harmfully it could cause massive destruction and yet if used for the betterment of humanity it could bring hope and love to millions.

  The thought was sobering and made Michael understand the tremendous responsibility that Tempest had to face when casting the spell. She had all of humankind to think about. Her love for Marcus was minor compared to her responsibility to humanity. And her choices in a way were not her own.

  He suddenly wanted her in his arms and he tossed the book and his mental notes aside and went in search of her.

  Tempest stood in a small clearing, her arms hugging her waist. It was a beautiful spring day. The sky was clear, the air fresh, the flowers bursting in glorious color and the trees magnificent with new growth.

  She took a deep breath, breathing in the very essence of her being—life. It surrounded her in all its magical splendor. And seeing its beauty and wonder, she knew she would always do what she must to protect it. She had made difficult decisions before; she would make them again at any cost.

  Her tears started then and flowed down her cheeks. She needed this cleansing of her soul. She needed to shed tears for what could have been and all that may never be. Her sobs began to echo through the woods and it sounded as if the forest wept for her.

  Michael walked up behind her, his arms going around her, his hands grabbing hold of her crossed arms, and he drew her back against his strength and into the arms of his love.

  She went without reluctance, needing him, wanting him and aching for him. She had known centuries ago that it would be only him who could soothe her heart and soul, that there would be no other. That destiny was theirs to share no matter the years that had separated them.

  He placed his cheek next to hers. “I loved you then, Tempest, though I never admitted it to you or to myself. My need for you was uncommon, unbearable and unquenchable. The more I took from you the more I wanted, and the more I wanted the more I took.”

  She listened with closed eyes and an open heart.

  He kissed her cheek. “Now I want to give to you.” He turned her around in his arms and her eyes drifted open. “I love you. Then, now and forever.”

  Her eager lips met his anxious ones and they fed like starving children who did not know when to stop. And they didn’t. Their kiss lingered until building to a passion that required more nourishment, and they continued to feed their hunger.

  Their arms remained wrapped around each other. There was no need for touch; only the quenching of a long-lost love.

  Slowly their lips eased and Michael rested his forehead to hers. “I’ve missed you, Tempest; I can feel it down into the depths of my soul how very much I’ve missed you.”

  Her tears began again, soft and slowly. “I like who you’ve become. So far you have made wise choices.”

  He wiped at her tears with his finger. “You wrapped me in a spell that allowed me the wisdom to grow.”

  She shook her head. “You made your own choices.”

  He would not allow her to deny the truth. “Choices that could never have been made without your guidance. You wove part of yourself into that spell to protect and guide me. You sacrificed for me.”

  “I did what was necessary,” she insisted, her tears subsiding.

  “No,” he said firmly. “It wasn’t necessary. You did it out of love.”

  “I know no other way.”

  “And you love no other. Not the way you love me.”

  Her tears started once again. “You, Michael, you. I love you.”

  He kissed at her tears. “Marcus remains a part of me. A part I must face and deal with. He will never go away, but he must grow. He must learn. It is what you wanted for him. It is why you cast the spell the way you did. You gave him all he needed to choose intelligently and to make no mistakes.”

  She smiled at him. “And he has done an admirable job thus far.”

/>   “Thus far,” he repeated. “The spell still must be completed.”

  She placed a hand to his chest. “I have confidence in you. In the man you’ve become and the witch you have grown to be.”

  “The witch I once was seems foreign to me, but my warlock days haunt me.”

  “They were not good times,” she said sadly. “You abused your power and hurt others, and all for your own selfish needs.”

  He released her and took a step away from her. “That power overwhelms me at times and I can feel the urge to embrace it.”

  “A dangerous thought,” she warned.

  “But one I must face.”

  “Do so with strength and courage,” she cautioned. “That power can corrupt the strongest of souls and once released it is difficult to control.”

  “I’ve controlled it before.”

  “You gave it life; you fed it and nourished it.”

  He nodded. “I remember. I catch glimpses of my old life, old ways, and old places. They were around this area, weren’t they?”

  He sensed her reluctance to answer and stepped forward to take her hand.

  She held it out to him and grasped his hand firmly in hers. “I need to know me, or perhaps find me,” he said softly.

  “I can take you if you’d like.”

  “Where?”

  “To the cave where you performed your magic.”

  His eyes widened. “It’s around here?”

  She nodded. “Close by and sealed.”

  “Would I be able to unseal it?”

  “I sealed it the day I sent you away.”

  “And my power still doesn’t match yours, does it?”

  She shook her head.

  He placed his finger under her chin to raise her head higher. “Will my power ever equal yours?”

  Her eyes held many truths that tore at his heart. “There is a possibility.”

  “Always possibilities,” he said softly.

  “If you allow them, if you face what must be faced, if—”

  “If I make a prudent choice.”

  Her silence told him he spoke the truth.

  “Take me to the cave,” he said adamantly. “I must learn about me.”

  She took his hand. “A wise choice to help you make a wise choice.”

  He smiled and the Michael she knew and loved spoke up. “Sweetheart, I’m always wise.” He kissed her soundly and stepped forward, leading the way.

  Tempest followed dutifully, knowing he instinctively knew where to go.

  The cave was in a remote area of the woods where humans rarely ventured. They were not knowledgeable enough about the woods to see the natural trails to take. They always had to chop and cut down trees, stamp on foliage and destroy life as they made what they called “progress.”

  If they opened their eyes they would see that nature had already cleared a path for them exactly where they needed to place their feet.

  Michael knew this, as did Tempest. They walked the woods with confidence, familiar with the natural pathway. They ducked under low-hanging tree branches, instinctively stepped around new ground growth and were careful not to disturb any nests.

  Their feet walked lightly upon the earth, disturbing as little as possible, and it wasn’t long before they reached their destination.

  They stopped and stood hand in hand before a large rock that was braced against a hill. Michael made no move, nor did Tempest; they simply remained as they were, staring and listening.

  “It’s too silent. No animals stir, no birds chirp, no breeze blows,” Michael commented softly.

  “The woods know of your return. They can feel it.”

  He released her hand then and turned around to stare at the multitude of trees and dense foliage that stretched out endlessly before him. “I mean no harm.”

  The silence remained.

  “They don’t trust me.”

  Tempest took his hand. “They don’t know you.”

  He squeezed her hand. “They think of me as Marcus and fear his old ways. I can feel their fear. The years have not diminished their memories.”

  “Give them time. They will come to understand how different you are from him.”

  He laughed softly. “I am him.”

  “You’re who you choose to be.”

  “Then it’s time for me to discover me.” He kept a firm hold on her hand and walked toward the large rock. “Can you move this?”

  She nodded, slipped her hand out of his and with a simple gesture of her hands the rock vanished.

  “An illusion,” he said, shaking his head. “You created a mere illusion.”

  “Many things are mere illusions if one would only look and see.”

  “You were always the teacher,” he said teasingly.

  “And you always required teaching.” She waited for his response and was pleased when he laughed at her remark.

  Marcus would have grown angry at what he assumed was an insult, but Michael had learned and would learn more. She only hoped the knowledge he gained would be enough in the end.

  They entered the cave and as they proceeded in and the darkness grew, thick torches began to spark to life, lighting their way.

  “Another illusion?” he asked with a turn of his head over his shoulder to where she walked behind him. The pathway was narrow and could only be walked single file.

  “I didn’t do anything,” she said, her voice echoing faintly off the stone walls. “That’s your doing.”

  He stopped and she almost collided with him. “My doing?”

  Tempest talked to his broad back, surprised he hadn’t remembered. “You would have arranged for light either to guide your way or to guard you.”

  “Guard me?”

  She explained. “You would have been familiar and comfortable in the dark. The light was probably a guard against intruders. Light being an intrusion to you.”

  “So the torches light as you pass them, not me.”

  “Right, and not a bad concept.”

  “Makes sense,” he said with pride for his own idea. He kept walking, not realizing he instinctively knew his way.

  They soon turned a corner and entered a large room that filled with muted light. They both stopped and started at the stone slab altar in the middle of the room.

  “This place was in my dreams,” Michael said and approached the altar that held candles, wooden bowls and a dagger.

  Tempest contained her excitement. He was responding to the cave as if he didn’t recall it and that was a good sign. It meant Michael possessed the stronger character, had built it over the years and made it superior to that of Marcus.

  He ran a slow, examining hand over the cold slab and touched the half-burned black candles. He walked around the altar to the other side and dipped his fingers into the wooden bowl that held black stones etched with symbols.

  He closed his eyes and let his power radiate down his arm and into his hand, empowering the dormant stones.

  Tempest watched and felt the rush of power that swept into the room. The darkness of it chilled her to the bone, but she remained as she was, confident of her own abilities.

  With a shuffle of the stones between his fingers, he grabbed a handful and cast them down onto the black scarf that lay draped over the altar. They spilled slowly from his hands as if reluctant to leave, clattering against the hard stone and sending a chilling echo throughout the cave.

  He braced both hands on the edge of the altar and with a bowed head examined the stones. He recalled long, black hair hanging past his shoulders and a black tunic and robes and fingers long and lean with no scars of calluses. And he recalled his knowledge of the stones.

  “They spoke once of our joining,” he said, addressing her yet keeping his eyes on the cast. “They spoke of possibilities and the blending of magical forces.” He raised his head slowly, his eyes looking darker as he settled a cold stare on her. “They spoke of us.”

  Tempest chose silence. Marcus had made himself known and she could do
nothing. It was up to Michael and the strength and courage he had accumulated over the years.

  Michael suddenly stepped back, his hands falling away from the stone altar. “Damn, what power.”

  Tempest shivered from the force of energy that filled the cave. She raised her own defense shields and waited. Would Michael succumb to a power that enticed?

  He walked over to her. “I’ve never felt such a force of power. It’s remarkable.”

  “Know it for what it’s worth,” she warned.

  He looked at her oddly and then smiled like a schoolboy about to play a trick on the teacher. He rubbed his hands together until a ball of energy began to form, and he tossed it up into the air for it to burst over their heads, causing a sprinkle of shattering light to descend over them. “It’s simply power.”

  She shook her head. “You are wrong. Power comes from different sources; those sources determine its strength and weaknesses.”

  “And can your power outdo my power?” he asked like a teasing child.

  She smiled and couldn’t help herself; she had to show off. She rotated her hands as Michael had done, but more slowly building and building the energy between her palms. The glowing sphere grew larger and larger, along with Michael’s eyes.

  When it all but consumed Tempest she cast it up to float to the top of the cave and with a sudden snap of her fingers the sphere burst into a shower of light that rained down upon them like brilliant fireworks.

  Michael stood with his finger to his lips. “There’s a lesson in here somewhere, I know there is.”

  She smiled, pleased he had paid attention. “Learn it and you will know the source of true power.”

  He cast a quick glance around the cave before reaching for her hand. “Its starkness leaves me cold.”

  She hung on tightly to his hand. “Then let’s step out into the light.”

  He followed closely behind her as they retraced their steps and on hurried feet they rushed out of the cave to the bright afternoon sun and the chirping of birds.