Serendipity: Imbolc & Incantations Read online

  Besides, she was so far removed from the other students that it verged on the ridiculous these days. These girls weren’t her friends, they were mere children. It was an increasingly familiar barrier; one pitfall of being a decade older than her peers.

  She had always felt isolated, but it had gotten worse as the years had passed. Maybe it really was time for her to leave, regardless of the graduation process that had been denied her repeatedly.

  As she lit up her wand to light the way through the dark caves, part of her wondered whether she should have waited until after the Brideog procession had been carried out and she had presented them with the cheesecake she had made especially for this evenings Imbolc Feast. Except, as improper as it was, the entourage had always missed out her turret in the past and Seren had no reason to believe this year would be any different.

  Better, by far, to ensure her own careful rituals were carried out successfully.

  Besides, the youngsters didn’t take it seriously anymore. They followed the customs that had been laid out by generations before them, but it was rather like the way Christmas had come to overshadow Yule.

  Everything was monetised and commercialised. Young witches bought their brideog’s and crosses instead of making them following ancient tradition. They didn’t carry out the special rituals and incantations which assured the proper protections.

  The feast had become nothing more than another excuse to party. None of the true meaning of the Sabbat were being upheld, and the governing body seemed happy enough to tolerate that kind of artifice.

  It was just another area in which her own very traditional beliefs diverged from the travesty that modern magic was becoming.

  Since Siarl had been called away, he wasn’t here to see the farce. Seren couldn’t help wondering if that was deliberate. She really didn’t think Siarl was the type to tolerate such inadequacies; he was too steeped in principles and convention for that.

  Maybe she should talk to him about her concerns.

  Despite everything that had happened, she had never really shared her real unease and apprehension with him. She supposed she was too afraid of being ridiculed and rebuffed by someone she respected.

  Knowing that the rejection would cut her to the bone, it usually seemed better not to engage it. And that was on her.

  It was going to bite them in the butt, though, of that Seren was certain. And the way things had been heading recently, she was pretty sure it would be sooner rather than later.

  The Mage Council were fools if they didn’t believe that the dark forces weren’t just waiting in the wings for the opportunity to swoop in and take over. Those who practiced the black arts weren’t contenting themselves with weak imitations of the real thing, the way modern sorcery was progressing, and that was going to cause the downfall of the magic realm as they knew it.

  Seren just couldn’t seem to work out how she had become such a laughing-stock that no one took her seriously when she tried to bring the subject up. But she wasn’t going to let that stop her. If she had to be a one witch deterrent to the advancement of black magic, then so be it.

  She would perform her rituals to the best of her ability and continue honing her craft to a level where she would be a threat to those who sought to take over the realm.

  She might be just one being, but she knew how powerful her magic had become, and the worst - or maybe the best - thing everyone else could do was underestimate her.

  Because that way they would never see her coming.

  Whatever kind of power game they were playing might have undermined her, but they would never be able to stop her.

  Even if it meant she became some kind of vigilante witch and stood up to black magic on her own.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Seren breathed in the crisp, pre-spring air and held her face up to the pale, watery glow in the sky which could barely even be called sunshine.

  The residual sprinkling of snow was thin and crunchy underfoot, worn away in a lot of places, to a dull brown slush. Nevertheless, Seren was determined to find a pure, untouched patch in which she could draw a representation of the sun. It just meant venturing a little further away, maybe even as distant as the far walls of the citadel.

  She contemplated the wood, which was a lot closer, but while there was an enriching significance in the trees, to do this thing properly, she really needed open sky so she could complete the ritual of renewing the power of the sun and liberating the realm from the grip of winter.

  There seemed to be a particular analogy this year between the ritual of Imbolc and how it reflected the power of light in what had become an oppressive darkness in the months since Samhain.

  One that had nothing at all to do with the seasons.

  Was she really the only one who felt it? The thought spurred her on, determined to fulfil this final ritual.

  She had constructed it carefully. As a student - heck, even as a witch - you couldn’t just throw around major incantations without it arousing suspicion and coming under scrutiny of either the light side or the dark side. And such things called far too much attention to you.

  Seren’s entire plan for this sabbat was to invoke some very powerful magic under the guise of a simple Imbolc spell. It was more than just the renewal of the year and the return of the sun. It was designed also to diminish some of the power of the dark side that Seren was convinced was encroaching upon the citadel, and maybe even the entire magic realm. She had even sat down and written out a proper incantation, rather than relying on her normal haphazard spellbinding. She’d chosen her words carefully to convey their double meaning.

  Each of the tokens she had brought for the makeshift altar she was planning to set up had been selected with the same care. Finding the perfect spot, Seren began setting them out on the rather convenient, large, flat stone. She had used the traditional items associated with Imbolc, the candles and incense. But she’d focussed especially on those which would also give power to her underlying objective.

  The Brigid’s cross, which also protected against evil spirits.

  A bouquet of cinnamon sticks to protect from negative energies and to help to speed up the spell. For good measure, it was tied with another piece of the ribbon she had dipped in the stream.

  Rosemary, to protect and purify.

  Garnet to tap into extra energy for the ritual process and transform negative influence.

  Turquoise to absorb and neutralize negativity, and to protect against others draining her powers.

  Drawing the circle in the snow for the spell, but adding rays so that it appeared as the sun, Seren stepped before the altar, holding up the candle and staring into the flame. She visualised life blossoming with renewed energy and strength; not just for spring, but for herself, and the whole of the light side of the magic realm.

  By the same token, she visualised the darkness, and the black arts, diminishing and losing its strength.

  Carrot sat patiently, watching what looked like nothing more than a rather intricate Imbolc ritual, though Seren guessed he knew better by now.

  She drew the cloak away and tapped on her shoulder to wake Cami and as soon as the dragon fly retained her physical form, Seren started the incantation.

  Bring forth the bounty of Brigid’s promise,

  Shine the light of Spring upon us.

  Everything seemed calm and normal as she began the spell, her voice clear and well-modulated.

  Depart once more from the long night,

  Take us from darkness into the light.

  There was a shudder in the earth beneath her, and Seren knew immediately that the depth of her magic had been detected. Carrot sprang to his feet, sniffing the air, his beady gaze darting all around, and Seren knew he had detected danger. She struggled to concentrate on the words and not allow anything to interrupt the spell. Otherwise, it would be worthless.

  Diminish the shadows, make them recede,

  So goodness and light are sure to proceed.

  There was a
vast trembling now, and a vicious wind swept up around her. With all her might, Seren fought to keep the altar intact while she finished the incantation. She couldn’t deviate from the special spell she was reciting, so she had to use quiet magic running through the power of her fingertips while she continued to hold the candle aloft with the other hand. At least the magical flame remained steadfast despite the wind.

  In her peripheral vision she realised Carrot was preparing to move, but that couldn’t happen. Not yet.

  She spoke to him with her mind, telling him to hold his ground.

  Her concentration was fractured; torn between maintaining the altar, tracking the effects of the dark forces, telepathy with her familiar and reciting the spell.

  One more distraction and it may well shatter completely.

  Incanted by the power of three,

  She had to shout to prevent her voice from being stolen by the wind, but she was nearly done. One more line and the spell would be cast.

  It was as if the darkness knew.

  Suddenly a black force field surrounded her like a cage, but the cage wasn’t still. It started sinking into the ground, taking her and Cami with it. Swallowing them up.

  Carrot pawed at the ground, but Seren caught his eye and shook her head. The hostile intention here was to separate her, then to void the incantation. She summoned Cami to her hand for safekeeping now the altar was deep enough in the ground to be protected from the wind. Capturing her fox familiars gaze through the candle flame, she screamed the final words into the ether.

  In the name of the goddess,

  So mote it be.

  A slice of sky above her was all Seren could see of the rapidly disappearing world, but that was all she needed.

  ‘Release the circle!’ Carrot’s voice resounded in her head and she glimpsed him looking down at her, as he dug at the ground which was started to close over her head.

  With the last bit of light, Seren drew the sun’s image counter clockwise, so the ritual was complete, just as a stark darkness enshrouded her and she cupped her hand around the candle to keep it from extinguishing.

  “Get back on my shoulder.” Seren ordered the dragonfly to safety. If they were going to get out of this, she needed to ensure they weren’t separated. She breathed a sigh of relief as her familiar melted magically back onto her skin. Now she only needed to worry about herself.

  She couldn’t tell if they were still moving downward, but the oppressive darkness was becoming incredibly hot and stifling and the previously spacious cage was starting to feel suffocating, as if the walls were pressing in on them.

  The candle flame wavered and dimmed, and Seren threw out a swift spell to strengthen its feeble light. ‘Brigid’s candle, don’t go out. We need to see what we’re about.’

  Yeah, that was more the speed of her usual charms.

  The flame flickered and grew, and Seren bit out an oath. “Shitsickles!”

  Just like a bad adventure movie, the walls really were shrinking. Where the original cage hadn’t been able to encroach within the protection of the magic circle, now she’d released it, the damn thing was decreasing all around her. Maybe she should have kept it open, but then the spell wouldn’t have been complete, and all of this would have been for nothing.

  Seren dropped to her knees and gathered up everything from the alter, glad of the deep, roomy pockets of her cloak. She picked up the last crystal, the turquoise, and thanked the oracle that it had done its job of preventing the dark forces from draining her powers. As she stuffed it into its pouch, her fingers encountered something unusual. Something that shouldn’t have been there. Digging it out and holding it up to the candlelight, Seren released a breath of gratitude. Maybe, just maybe, she was saved, after all.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Seren shook out the veil that Allurielle, the Shadow Mage, had presented her with when she’d accidentally fallen into the spirit world at Samhain, desperately trying to recall the wise woman’s words.

  “This is a shadow veil. Its function is twofold. It will allow you to walk through all realms, the over world, the magical realm and also the shadow realm unseen by any eye, either mortal or magic.”

  Yes, damn it, she knew all that, but she was sure there had been something else.

  ‘It will also allow you passage into the spirit world so that you may seek answers, but only those that pertain to your destiny.’

  Shitsickles! That was no help then. She’d been hoping to use the veil to make a quick getaway into the shadow realm, but if she could only get there to receive answers about her destiny, then it was no help at all.

  Unless…

  Seren struggled to move her hands enough to allow her to put on the veil within the tight confines of the cage which was now pressing against her flesh. She forced her arms above her head and literally had to drop the veil from above, keeping her fingers crossed it landed in the right place. There was an eerie sensation as the shroud settled around her but Seren still had no idea what to do. Allurielle had never explained how to use the veil for this particular purpose.

  “Is this my destiny?” Seren screamed as all four walls pushed against her, and the pressure started to force the air from her lungs.

  Nothing happened.

  She was seconds away from being as flat as a Seren shaped cardboard cut-out, well not really, more of a tube. Still, that was not the way she wanted to live her life. Or lose it.

  She had the overwhelming urge to knock on the barricade surrounding her as if it was a door that someone might answer, but she could no longer move her hands.

  “Hello?” she shouted. “What am I supposed to do here? How do I gain entrance to the shadow realm? Will someone please let me in before my destiny really does become being squashed into Seren pulp to feed the snowdrops?”

  She fought to take a breath, her bones squeezing, painfully. She closed her eyes against the tears that suddenly welled within them, and an image of Siarl popped into her mind. She might have thought to run away from her feelings for him, but right now, she wished she had lived long enough to explore where things might have gone with him. Even if it was nowhere at all.

  And Carrot. Would her fox familiar be alright? Or would her demise mean that he too would fade from existence? The thought saddened her even more. She tried to fix her mind on some happier thought. Perhaps she would get to see her parents again. She imagined their dear faces and hoped that, at least, might be true.

  There was no more air. The space was too small and her lungs were being squeezed too hard. White spots burst behind her eyelids as asphyxiation took hold.

  There was a moment of calm as she accepted her fate.

  It looked like this was her destiny after all.

  So be it.

  At least suffocation seemed like a slightly more palatable option than being crushed to death.

  Please, she sent up one last entreat, someone save the magic realm from the dark forces if I’m not here to do it.

  Then, with her last ounce of energy, she summoned Siarl’s face. She had no idea if the telepathic connection was still intact, but she sent the message anyway and told him the words that were in her heart.

  ‘I love you, Siarl. I wish things had been different. Goodbye…’

  Siarl Orias stomped through the hushed, hallowed corridors of the Senedd, uncaring if anyone thought it was improper. If they had a problem, they were welcome to take it up with him.

  In all honesty, though, it would probably be better if everybody gave him a wide berth right now, or they were liable to get their head handed to them.

  He wasn’t worried about his position, not from this little show of attitude, at least. He’d earned his place among the elder delegation, and no one could easily take it away.

  Loosing respect was another matter entirely, but maybe a show of anger was something that would actually elevate that. And teach people he wasn’t someone to send on a wild goose chase. He’d always been deceptively mild-mannered, saving the strengt
h of his convictions for when it was truly necessary. But perhaps it was time people learned he wasn’t some sap to be messed with.

  He’d received an urgent message whilst he and Seren had been hashing out the night’s incident and had been forced to leave before he was ready.

  And now he got here to find out it had all been a hoax?

  What kind of ingrate played that kind of game with the elders of the realm.

  It was unheard of.

  An abomination.

  And Siarl certainly didn’t take kindly to being made a fool of.

  Although every one of the staff had denied all knowledge, a search of the records showed the message had indeed been sent from the Senedd and that simple fact had a whole slew of troubling connotations of its own. Not least because the place was like a fortress, protected by all sorts of magical and physical defences.

  The chances of anyone getting in without the proper access were minimal. And that meant it had to be an inside job.

  The question was, what had been the purpose?

  Was it just some intern’s idea of a joke? Had it been purely accidental, a case of the message being sent to the wrong recipient. Or was there a more sinister reason?

  His initial concern was that someone had deliberately lured him away from the academy. After what had happened during Yule, was it any surprise that had been his first thought? And that led to all kinds of other conspiracy theories.

  Like, did they have a traitor in their midst?

  Except so far, there didn’t seem to be anything underhand taking place back at the citadel. He had contacted the Vice Principal, Professor Stygian, who had assured him that the students were having fun performing the Imbolc rituals and everything was absolutely fine.

  Siarl had been tempted to ask about Seren, but that really would call the wrong kind of suspicious attention to their relationship. Not that they actually had one, but still, propriety and decorum were the watch words here. He refused to be forced out of his post because some narrow-minded bigot got on their high horse.