Page 101 of The Demon's Spell

“Sure there is.”

“Therefore, you already have evidence that failure is not the ultimate truth. I wonder what would happen if you embraced the uncertainty.”

I pondered her words. “I don’t see how that would help. If I just accept the future is uncertain, I haven’t fixed the problem. I still don’t know what’s to come. How can we be sure we’re making the right choices?”

“We don’t,” Grammy said simply. “But maybe that’s okay.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think I could ever be okay with that.”

“That’s simply a story you’re telling yourself,” Grammy said. “We can change those stories.”

“How?” I asked.

She sat straighter in her chair. “What I’m about to say may feel uncomfortable, but I want you to sit with it for a while. Would you still like to hear it?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“When we fear the uncertain, it’s our ego’s way of trying to protect us,” Grammy explained. “The fear center of our brain is trying to experience the outcome before it happens, so that we can prepare for the worst. But this actually increases the perceived threat. Our worry is not rooted in the actual outcome, but in the way we expect to feel about the given outcome. If you can convince your ego that those stories aren’t necessarily true, you may quiet it enough to hear your intuition come through.”

“I can’t just stop being afraid,” I countered. “I can’t just force myself to be happy if the coven is destroyed.”

“It’s not about eliminating your fear, but seeing through it,” Grammy said. “You still get to grieve. You get to feel sad and angry, and that’s perfectly healthy to process those emotions in the wake of a tragedy. But there may be a part of you that fears you won’t be able to handle it.”

“I can handle grief,” I told her bluntly. “Uncertainty is scary because I've been in dangerous and traumatic situations where I wasn't okay. People say trauma makes you stronger, but just because I survived it doesn’t mean I ever want to be in that place again.”

Grammy nodded, like she understood. “There may be other emotions you are trying to avoid, such as disappointment.”

I wanted to tell her she was wrong, but I felt a twinge of truth to her words. “I don’t want to see people suffer. I have a hard time forgiving myself when people get hurt.”

I thought of Amy, of all the women who died upon the pyre, and the others in the riots the night of the Burning. I couldn’t allow something like that to happen again.

“Being at peace with uncertainty does not mean you’re indifferent to all outcomes,” Grammy said gently. “It doesn’t mean that you won’t feel grief or disappointment. It simply means that you can go forward knowing you can choose to forgive yourself, no matter what happens. If you accept the future is uncertain, the only certainty you’ll ever need is the knowledge that whatever does come, certain or not, is something that you will be able to handle. That is truth, because it comes from inside of you.”

“I think I like being in control and in charge because if I can predict how things will play out, I can manage my energy better,” I admitted. “If I don’t know what’s going to happen, I can’t predict how much energy I’ll have, or if my body can manage. I need to know how to prepare.”

Grammy looked contemplative. “I’m sensing something even deeper.”

I hesitated. I knew the truth, even if I didn’t want to consciously admit it to myself. My voice became small as I said, “Even if I do my best, I’m scared it won’t be good enough to save everyone.”

“And why must you save everyone, Nadine?” Grammy asked.

“I want everyone to live!” I cried. “Not just survive, but to live full lives.”

It was only after I reacted that I realized she wasn’t accusing me of anything. She was asking me to reflect on it.

Grammy remained calm. “I understand that, and it’s truly great that you want to help people. But sometimes, it is out of our hands. It makes you no less of a witch or a priestess or a good person if you can’t save everyone. All you can do is stay true to yourself, knowing you’ve done the best you can. Then you can face anything.”

My shoulders fell. “I want to believe you. But it just doesn’t seem that easy.”

“Just because it’s simple doesn’t make it easy,” Grammy told me. “Changing your mindset is not a switch that can be flicked on and off. It takes time, and perhaps some growing pains, but I believe in you, Nadine.”

I frowned. “I’ll never be comfortable seeing people get hurt.”

“I’m not asking you to get comfortable with it,” Grammy said gently. “Only that you can trust yourself to handle it.”

Lucas rubbed my leg. “I’m with Nadine. Sometimes it feels like we’re running a marathon and not getting anywhere.”

Grammy nodded thoughtfully. “Lucas, you’re very good at carrying other people’s burdens. That’s why you’re the Reaper’s Apprentice. But carrying other people’s burdens is not always a good thing. They can weigh you down.”

---