It's the closest to a compliment my brother has ever given me about such things, and I scoff at him, slipping back into my role as his little sister for just a moment. It’s a nice break from the seriousness of what we’re here to do. I don’t think it’s really sunk in that I’ve used my magic to end life, defensive as it was. The same giddiness that Pemba is experiencing takes hold of me as well.
I find myself stripping out of my jacket, thanks to the sun, already hot overhead in the sky and beating down on us viciously.
“What are we going to do when we get our fates?” I ask, and Pemba shakes his head at me.
“I’m not getting one. Mama and Papa only got permission from the Seer for you to have your fate, not me.”
I scoff at him. “We’ve come all this way, we might as well see if she'll do yours too. What’s the harm in asking?”
He looks ahead of us at the dozens of stairs we still have to climb, wincing a little. “I’ve never really thought about it before. I never thought I would have the chance to meet with the Seer. Father was never supposed to get his fate either, you know?”
I didn’t.
I shoot him a look. Huffing and puffing as I am, I can't find the words to encourage him to continue, but he's my brother and he knows that I'm curious, thankfully.
We never had to share stories about our parents like this before, we could simply ask them ourselves, but I guess this is our life now, reminiscing over memories to keep our family alive.
I can't think of my siblings without wanting to cry. So I push their names and their faces to the back of my mind where I can leave them until the wound is a little less tender inside me.
They were nothing more than children,babies, and they were murdered just the same as the adults.
“He was delivering supplies for another coven. You know he didn't have a proper family of his own? It's why Grammy didn't like him. Well, not at first, but he won her over with his charm. So, while he was delivering supplies, he crossed paths with the Seer on one of her pilgrimages, and he swapped her a little of his magic for some dinner. He had his own, of course, but any excuse to talk about Mama some more. No one had ever asked the Seer for something in return, but Father had no idea who she was when he ran into her, and I think she was charmed by him.”
I huff again, a little bit because of how exhausted I am but also at my brother's words. My father was just as charming as Pemba is, both of them able to get their own way with nothing much more than a few honeyed words and a grin. My mother had always said that half of her purpose was keeping Papa out of trouble, a job she took seriously.
“And his fate was Mama,” he murmurs, glancing over his shoulder down the steep incline to where we've left the horse and cart tied to a tree.
I’d used my magic and the scepter to bury the goblin as an offering to the earth, saying a small prayer to the Goddess and hoping that the mountain wouldn't be too angry at us for burying him there. The Ravenswyrd witch inside me is always worried about these sorts of things.
“Their fate was to be happy with one another,” I mumble to him under my breath, and Pemba shrugs.
“They were. The Fates never said how long they'd have together.”
I huff again. “It still seems cruel to me.”
Pemba swipes the back of his hand over his forehead as we reach the top, the entrance of the Seer’s cavernous dwelling opening up before us. Simple enough in its construction, nothing more than rock, but with thousands of protective sigils carved into every surface.
The power of this space beats onto my skin like a living thing, stealing what little air is left in my lungs as I stare at it.
“No one ever said that the Fates had to be kind,” Pemba mumbles under his breath, but I'm too busy staring at the stones to answer him or think about his words.
The power of this space is breathtaking.
I can feel it like a physical thing pressing against my skin. Every inch of my being wants to bow to it, to cower before the fearsome nature of such a thing, and my own magic pools in my gut as though called out to play. Even if I studied magic for a thousand more years, I wouldn't be able to memorize all the markings that surround me. Some of them have likely been here far longer than the Seer herself, protection for the Seer that came before her. Some of them look brand new, all of them etched into stone by those who came here to see her.
Flutters burst into my stomach. I’m finally here. I want to reach out to Donn and tell him that I made it, that I’m so close to being able to tell him where I am and figure out where to meet. I’m close to having some direction and clarity in my life once more.
“Do you still have the spell Mama gave you?” Pemba questions as he lets his hand hover over some of the newer markings. I nod my head, fishing around in my jacket until I find the small cloth my mother wove.
She sat with me for weeks as we embroidered the spell into the fabric together. The Ravenswyrd didn't believe in paper and ink. Those things were too fragile and short-lived for us and our work. Instead, our books were made up of fabrics, spells woven into them and flowers pressed into the threads to leave behind their own marks.
I always thought it was such a beautiful thing.
When I unfold the small piece of fabric, Pemba’s breath catches in his throat at the sight of the protection sigil.
“That's a lot of power,” he mutters, and I nod my head.
”Mama wanted our offering to be the best we could provide.”
