Page 83 of Moon Chosen

Like a small, precious mourning dove, Leda’s words lifted from Mari’s memory.Sweet girl, trust yourself and the Great Earth Mother. You are wiser than you know, and the Goddess is endlessly compassionate.Mari’s gaze wandered to the idol, wishing the Goddess would show some compassion and tell her what to do.

Then Mari’s eyes widened in surprise. No, the Goddess didn’t speak toher—didn’t let Mari feel her presence. But Sora felt her presence—she’d already said so. And Mari had her answer.

“Sora, turn around so that you’re facing the Earth Mother,” Mari said.

Sora blinked up at her. “Are we done breathing?”

“No, not quite, but I have an idea. Sit facing the idol.” Sora shifted around. “Okay, this time as you breathe with me, concentrate on the Earth Mother. Feel her presence filling this clearing. She’s in the soft night wind. Her breath has the sweetness of the flowers around us. She’s cloaked in Earth and veiled in night. She’s everywhere.”

Mari saw the difference in Sora instantly. Her shoulders relaxed. Her forehead lost the furrowed lines that were there only breaths before. She seemed to melt into the grass as she breathed deeply, easily, keeping her gaze on the Earth Mother.

“Now, let your breath return to normal, but keep your focus on the Goddess. Give me your hand.”

Sora said nothing, but she lifted her hand. Mari took it in her own.

“Place your other hand on the fern.”

Sora did as Mari instructed.

More shrieks rang through the night, and Sora’s hand tightened on Mari’s.

“Focus,” Mari said quickly, finding her mother’s words and sharing them with Sora. “Borrow serenity from the Earth Mother. You may be surrounded by chaos or sickness or injuries, but find the true you within. Release that which belongs to the world—fears, worry, sadness, so that the silver moonlight can wash through you. It is a waterfall at night. And this night the fern is the basin that must hold the waterfall. Think about the fern. Imagine it being filled with life, whole and thriving again.”

Sora’s grip on Mari’s hand relaxed, and she said softly, “I’m ready.”

“Good. You’re doing well. When I start the invocation I want you to repeat after me and think about the moonlight washing through me—through you—and into the fern.”

“Okay. I can do this,” Sora said.

When Mari began the ritual invocation, it was as if Leda was there with her, smiling proudly and whispering lovingly in her ear.

“Moon Woman I proclaim myself to be

Greatly gifted I bare myself to thee.”

Sora began repeating the lines in a small soft voice, but as Mari continued the invocation, and Sora continued the repetition, her voice grew in confidence until Mari could hear the beginnings of confidence within it.

“Earth Mother aid me with your magick sight

Lend me strength on this moon-touched night.

Come, silver light—fill me to overflow

So that those in my care, your healing will know.

By right of blood and birth channel through me

That which the Earth Mother proclaims my destiny!”

Mari raised her hand and closed her eyes, sketching in her mind a scene where the moonlight cascaded like water through her and into Sora. The cool, silver power rained down on her, swirling in her body—not with the cold, biting pain it used to bring, but with strength not yet familiar, yet sure enough that Mari could count on it, draw on it, channel it, and then release it into Sora.

“Oh! It’s so cold!” Sora gasped and tried to pull her hand from Mari’s.

“That’s because it’s not yours to keep. You don’t need it. You’re already Washed. Think of the fern. Focus, Sora!”

“I’m trying, but it hurts!”

“You can make the pain stop, but you have to release the power. Think of the fern. Imagine that the moonlight is water, and that you can channel it through your body and rain it over the plant,” Mari said.