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I had seen ritual sacrifices before, sheep and cattle brought forth, docile and amiable, right up until the moment the knife hit their throats.
As one did mine now.
What was inside me, her Tirian, her, my unworthy bloody vessel, it all thrashed around within, warning me late, too late of what was to come. The Great White Wolf’s muzzle pulled back, her teeth revealed, the darker side of the mother coming to the fore.
She was the mother that devoured young just born, pink and bleating, but her instincts told her were too weak to survive. She was the mercy killing of those too far gone to age or illness. This demarcation point we made between life and death, it was an artificial thing. Death was inextricably linked to life. We consumed the bodies of the animals we slayed, their carcasses mouldering under the trees, the nutrients restored to the land by bacteria, insects, and other carrion feeders. So as I stared, as the little girl conjured a knife from thin air, as it bit in, a thin trickle of blood escaping, running down my chest, I saw the Great Wolf flicker. Black, white, black, white, they saw me, judged me, and ostensibly, found me wanting. There
, as I felt it, that death sentence handed down and landed squarely on my shoulders, I felt the sharp slash of the knife and then nothing.
I fell to the ground, me, Bec, my hands slapping down on the tiles, nails digging in with one, the other going to my throat.
“Fuck, Bec!”
They came running towards me, and I didn’t even need to look to see them, sensing their presence as they came near, and with that came the sense of my body. Blood didn’t pump from between my fingers, coating the tiles below. My skin was whole.
I was whole. Almost.
Then I was swept up into their arms, and I really felt the word applied to me. The kisses and hugs were a background thing, because I felt them. A throbbing, intense bond, snicking back into place now my body was my own again, back where it was supposed to be.
“Fuck, I thought…”
“You’re…”
“Goddess, I thought…”
I stroked them idly, hoping to soothe them, but it was Sylvan I saw climbing back down from the dais and straight towards Arelia.
The expression on her face hurt to see, her back ramrod straight, even as she flinched internally, bracing herself for rejection. So when Sylvan swept her up into his arms, holding her close, bestowing all the kisses she deserved upon her, her expression was completely transcendent. Branwen thought she’d been waiting for a long time? Well somehow, her impatience had nothing on Arelia getting her heartfelt wish fulfilled.
Fulfilled, that was a good word for it, for them. He let her down, but not far, tugging her close and devouring her mouth with a passion that finally had my eyes jerking away.
“We’re not done.”
My eyes jerked down to see an indomitable Kailee standing by my side, but she redirected my focus back to the Great White Wolf that still stood there, waiting. A sharp spike of fear sliced through me as I faced down the monstrous-looking thing, but I needn’t have worried. She pulled back, nodding to me.
Power is always meant to be held lightly, passed on, growing greater with each release. Sharing power increases power.
“You’re not the mother, not yet,” Kailee said.
“But you will be if you want to be.” Flora moved closer and took my hand. “It’s not for you, this power.”
“Oh thank god,” I blurted out, then my eyes darted sideways. “Goddess, whatever. I dunno what the hell this whole thing is, but I don’t want it. I’ve never wanted it. I just want… I want to go home.”
The guys stiffened at that, not understanding what I meant, but there was no time to tell them. Flora smiled, gentle as a breeze, and then patted my hand.
“Of course, my dear, all in good time. Come then.”
The song of the crystals, it was so different this time as we walked closer to Arelia and Sylvan, everybody following in our wake. The sound was as high and pure as a boy soprano, creating the perfect atmosphere. They only noticed us belatedly, a hunger and desperation in both of their faces so all-consuming, they couldn’t see us until we were finally upon them. Arelia’s eyes flashed bright green, a slight snarl forming, then fading away.
“You’re… She’s…”
“I’m just me. Your daughter sorted out Branwen. I don’t think she’s coming back, ever.”
“Oh thank the goddess,” Arelia said, sagging in Sylvan’s arms, but he held her fast, and we all saw that eminently masculine sense of satisfaction on his face that came from doing that.
“But it’s not over, not all of it, my love.”
Sylvan stroked her hair, pressed his lips to her cheek, his eyes fluttering closed as he did so, just breathing her in. Arelia, she stiffened, her brows creasing, her eyes widening as we stepped closer, and then I saw it, the light in her chest, mine, everyone’s glowing, glowing in response to the crystal’s song. But mine, it sang slightly out of tune, as if there was something not quite right about that. My hands went to my sternum, as if I could feel that part which was off, and somehow, I could. I pulled it free, my body feeling lighter the minute I did, whatever it was now a glowing ball in my hand. I held it out, to her, to Kailee, to Flora, to any of them who might want it.
