Page 240 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
So, my mother called out, “Be assured, I think you’ll all find these magics much tamer than the others!”
They’d only have to be, right? Butthreeof them? “I didn’t think you had that many powers, Mom.”
“One of them is from your father, Amy. A hereditary gift.” Stepping back, she lifted a hand, and a crown of starlight appeared. “The sovereign’s soul, so that you may always have the strength and bravery to lead, even when all else oppose you.”
There was no hollowing this time, maybe because the power was genetic. Whatever the reason, I was grateful to feel whole as my mother placed the dazzling crown on my head. It tingled, my hair absorbing it like conditioner.
“And from me—nocturnal premonitions.” At my snort, she smirked—getting it. “I ken your feelings about it.” She glanced Myrrdin’s way.
He looked a little worse for wear after hosting my fire, but a hedge healer was balming his burns, and he grimaced at his former student—poignant as a Tragic Fiddlers song.
“It’s an infuriating gift—premonition.” My mother turned back to me, unadulterated joy sweeping across her gaze. Her own voluptuous lips trembling, she brushed back my bangs. “But sometimes, my little love, it can be an unrivaled blessing.” Pressing her forehead to mine, she released a bit of her glow, and we shone together like moonbeams.
When the glow subsided, she took several steps back, wringing her hands at her waist. Rough-voiced, she said, “And lastly, I have something for you—a weapon—that may have some use to you in the war to come.”
I liked the wordwareven less than I did the wordbattles. But I listened.
“My siren song.” Her chin tipping skyward, she opened her mouth and sang a haunting melody in the mostgorgeousvoice that could’ve ever existed in eternity. A voice that I’d heard a hundred times before. In the refrains of a dream.
“It was you!” I exclaimed, chilled, when her song ended. An orb, so brilliant it hurt to look at, glowed within her long, elegant throat. “Youwere the voice!”
With a misty smile, my mother turned to Brigid, who strode over, dwarfing my tall, ethereal mother, and plucked the shimmering orb from her throat. Gently, she placed it in a woven case like an egg and shut its lid. Accepting the case, my mother brought it to me.
“It may not be your fit, Amy,” she spoke now from inside the box. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t use it.”
Gulping, I took the case when she brought it to me. “Does this mean you won’t be able to talk now? In the Isle?”
“Only until you need my voice no more. Then you can gift it back to me. In the meantime—I’ve other ways of speaking my mind.”
I clutched the box. Her voice still glowed through the cracks in the case, like it was ready to burst forth and control some minds. “I promise I’ll take care of it for you.”
“I know you will, Amy, but be careful with whom you entrust the knowledge of its possession. Gentian would stop at nothing—and I do mean nothing—to have it for himself. And you donotwant my voice being used against you.”
I gulped again. “Got it.”
She sighed, almost relieved. Maybe in knowing a part of her would stay with me even after she left. Then she grabbed my face, kissed my cheek, and fled back to Brigid, who took my mother’s proffered hand.
Before she disappeared into Brigid’s flaming hair again, Mom glanced back over her narrow shoulder with a kind smile. “I knew the truth of you long ago, dark one.”
Astounded, I looked to Pete, who’d shuffled aside, almost in shame, during our reunion—and to whom my mother was now most definitely speaking. His whole face flashed in stone-cold stupefaction.
“I pray one day you’ll know it too.”
Her words were forgiveness itself, and Pete’s eyes welled as he bowed his tousled head to her.
My mother caught my gaze one last time. “I love you,” she murmured, blowing me a kiss. Then she and the goddesses shot back to the stars in a thunderous whoosh, leaving me windswept, emotionally bedraggled, and responsible for multiple magical weapons of mass destruction.
And the night wasn’t even over.
Thepartystartedimmediately.Tribalesque drumming began before I’d even given Myrrdin my mother’s voice for safekeeping. By the time I’d reached the town square, the wine was already free flowing, folks were already feasting, the bonfires were already blazing, and Eden ran rampant with revelry.
My summoning celebration was nothing like Beltane. Nobody was debauching themselves on the altar of the horned god, Cernunnos (yet), and I wasn’t apprehensive at all to join in the fun. I drank, I ate, I sang, I danced—all without the slightest inhibition. Because I felt secure. For once in my life, I felt full and complete and comfortable in my own pale as hell skin. Who cared what anybody thought of me? They could accept me as I was and to hell with them if they couldn’t.
Because I’d made it through my summoning. Because I’d met all the greatest legends in Danann herstory. Because my father was at peace in heaven. Because I’d hugged my mother for the first time in 16 years, and she’d gazed at me with unreserved love and pride.
Because I’d seen myself through Pete’s eyes.
What he did while I grooved the night away, I couldn’t say. But the potent aroma of oranges and oakmoss said he was near.
