It’s said that there are places in this world so deep, so dark, so… compelling… when you peer down into them, they literally beckon you to jump…
Altar offerings complete, my mother retrieves her silver athame and slices her palm, filling a small bowl with her blood. She then adds a pinch of tobacco, a whole stick of cinnamon, and two crystals—moonstone and red jasper.
The final ingredient is the Magician card.
She drops it into the bowl, pressing it to the bottom and swirling it around until the blood covers it completely.
Then, whispering a prayer I can’t hear, she lights a match and touches it to the liquid.
It ignites immediately, silver and white flames dancing along the surface, and she raises her palms skyward, still whispering her spell.
“She called upon the Magician in an attempt to manifest her own greatest creation,” Trello says now. “You, Starla.”
I watch as the flames grow brighter, tears spilling down my cheeks.
“She wanted you to be kind and compassionate,” Trello says. “A healer. She wanted you to be blessed with her talents for divination, as well as your father’s gifts for herbalism and plant magick. She also asked for the blessings of all four elemental deities, so that you might have a life filled with magick of every kind.”
“The Princesses,” I whisper.
“A gift from your mother.” Trello’s voice is soft and kind, but then it shifts, a coldness seeping back into her tone that sends a chill racing down my spine. “What she didn’t tell me was that she’d already seen your true destiny—that you would be chosen as the Star Arcana.”
“Is that what the Magician did? Gave her the Star as a daughter?”
“No.Thatwas fate. The Magician’s role was in helping your mother bring you into this world. She called upon him during her Winter Solstice ritual, and he was eager to help her—too eager. Your mother was not meant to have a child, but she willed it anyway, breaking the natural order. He answered her pleas.”
The memory shifts to a dorm room, my mother imploring Trello to understand. She explains what she saw during her ritual, that the Magician promised her a pregnancy, promised that her child would become everything she’d dreamed of and more.
“But he did not offer such promises without strings,” Trello says now. “My Goddess, Starla, if you could’ve known your mother back then. She’d never met an obstacle she couldn’t overcome, a desire she could not achieve. And there he was, this dark energy that none of us understood, that no witch in our circles had ever called upon, holding her greatest dream in the palm of his hand, glowing like a tiny star, just barely out of reach. All she had to do to claim it was agree to his terms.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“Oh, she accepted without question. In her mind, she’d already held you in her arms, already looked upon your face. She’d spent her life falling in love with you. By the time he stated his terms, you were already hers. There was no way she’d turn him down.”
Again I see my mother, frantically trying to explain all of this to Trello. To justify it, despite Trello’s obvious concerns.
“And the terms?” I ask.
“She had to allow him permanent access to her magick. To siphon it at will.”
“Goddess,” I breathe. “So he used her magick to gain his strength? To build whatever armies he’s building?”
“That’s exactly what he did, for as long as he had access. But that’s not all.” Trello lets out a deep sigh, shaking her head. “When the time came—some future moment of his choosing—your mother would be required to relinquish the blood of the World.”
The phrase strikes a chord inside me, and once again I remember Kirin’s words, this time from a passage he read from one of the lore books.
It is said that he who is in possession of these objects, along with the blood of the world and an arcane spell of indeterminate origins…
“The blood of the World,” I say, horrified. “My mother’s blood, passed to me.Myblood. Once he has that, along with the Arcana objects and some old spell, he can take control of magick forever.”
“It would be months before she began to understand the magnitude of what she’d done,” Trello says. “But by then, you’d already been born. And as predicted, she was in love with you. Both of your parents were. But she was also losing her mind, channeling prophecies day and night, searching always for a way to break her oath, even knowing that she couldn’t. Everything that would come to pass—your lives in Tres Búhos, the decades-long murders of witches and mages, your coming to the Academy, the rise of the Dark Arcana, the trouble arriving on our very doorstep—she foresaw. She knew there would be no altering your fate, and ultimately,thatis what drove her to the brink.”
“But… I don’t understand. If you were her friend—and from everything I’ve seen, I believe she trusted you—why did you drive my parents out of the Academy?”
Trello turns over another card—the Six of Swords. In it, a young couple sits with six swords at the front of a small boat, a cloaked man standing at back, ferrying them to safer shores.
“An escape,” I say, the message coming through. “They had to leave. It… It was her choice?”
“I was the only one who knew of her deal with the Dark Magician. Not even your father knew—he believed your mother had finally crafted an effective fertility spell, nothing more. Once again, soon after your birth, her need for secrecy drove her to my door. She insisted that we create an elaborate ruse. It needed to be so convincing, she said, that even your father would believe it.”
