Page 61 of The Illuminated
“Somehow the cities have aligned together, across all regions. This organization has been working, quite literally, in the shadows. Disseminating extremist propaganda campaigns, training and indoctrinating their young, and recruiting lost witches cut off from covens. Fights have already broken out between their allies and dissenters. But they don’t just want to control the cities and rule them as tyrants. They want to rule the entire realm. They want us gone. All covens, everywhere. And they’re working with a strange new kind of power, born of a powerful, coven-banished chaos witch. It’s the coldest, most evil thing I’ve ever felt.”
A chill ran through the bodies of each witch gathered. Clouds formed overhead. Fat raindrops fell from the sky like tears from the Goddess. The ocean braced and exploded in turbulent waves, a manifestation of their collective fear and emotion.
“We don’t have much time before they come for us.”
In Celeste’s dreams she was pregnant. She was pregnant with the Salvator Mundi—the savior of the world—and her child was made up of everything good, built from the hope of every witch, a light to lead the masses through the great shadow.
The whole coven dreamed this too, as did every coven that had not yet been destroyed. And they heard a wordless song, an eternal hum—a symphony of melodies and notes uttered in formless voice—and they knew not where or when it had arisen, or if it had always been a part of them. They sang it each day, and it became an act of resistance. Each coven’s clairvoyant, sighted witches knew that it was too late for all of the adults. But it was not too late for their children. Their children would survive the wars, and they would be lost for a time until Áine, Keeper of the Old Ways, Bringer of Hope, reminded them of their identity and their destiny.
Each coven opened up channels of knowledge and magick with this universal song, and they poured their gifts and power willingly into this child only just conceived. She would carry the blessings until it was time to return each coven’s magick back to their lands and children. They knew it was too great a burden to bear for one single witch—chosen only by the winds of fate and the knowledge that she would belong to the exact right place and the exact right time—so they instilled their children with duties of their own. Duties to protect, to aid, to come into their own power when the time was right.
At times, it still felt like all hope was lost. As more covens fell, their devastation was felt by all. But they continued to sing, to hum, to pray to each god or goddess or ancestral spirit, and they believed in the impossible. Faith was the only thing they had left, the only light in the face of kidnapped children, burned homes, and the death of everyone they had ever known and loved.
They trusted that the entire Universe was on their side. That they did not live in a vacuous, meaningless chaos like the Order of the Shadow wanted their followers to believe. They trusted that the world was alive, and that magick and fate had desires of their own—a need for balance, hope, and meaning. They trusted that their children would learn from their mistakes. That when they triumphed over the collective shadow, they would ensure that no witch ever again felt lost, alienated, or forgotten. That they would fill the cracks their parents were too blind to notice, so the darkness would never again have a chance to fester, build, and reign.
“Áine,” Celeste whispered to her growing stomach. Her quaint bedroom was quiet and filled with candlelight. “We haven’t met yet, but I love you. And I want you to understand that about love—that it can be felt for people you have never met and will never meet. Because all across Aradia, witches love you. I never want you to feel alone, though I know you will at some point. I want you to remember how much your mothers loved you. How much strangers loved you. Because when the time comes to face pain, loss, and hopelessness, you need to remember that across oceans, over barriers of language and differences in worship, philosophy, and custom, over mountains and deep in valleys and forests and fields of snow, complete and utter strangers had no reason to choose love and hope. They could’ve just as easily chosen fear, hatred, and paranoia, closing themselves off until the final moments. But they didn’t. They opened themselves up, and they chose to love you, a witch they might never meet. That is love. When we are gone, teach that love to your friends and to your—” Celeste paused, heaving in a sob. “Your own children.And do not ignore the shadows like we did for so long. Ignoring and banishing darkness is how it rose up and conquered.”
This time when I found myself back on the couch, a single tear streamed down my face. I wiped it off slowly, staring at the blank screen.
“How are you feeling, dear?” Dr. Bordo asked, standing in front of me as her pixie-like features contorted with concern.
“I don’t know. Like I don’t even know who I am. Or who anyone else is. I just feel strange.” My emotions were like those turbulent ocean waves, but they were kept under a heavy glass ceiling of shock.
“Totally normal side effect of abrupt reality changes,” she said with a nod. “It all might need some time to soak in. Stay here as long as you need. But not too long, or the entire realm just may collapse! Ha-ha. Just kidding.” She paused. “Okay, no, I’m not kidding. You just seem really sad, and I didn’t want to pile on. But yes, you really should return before too many days pass in Aradia.”
I stared at her blankly for a moment as my ego slowly took back its shape. Actually, I knew who I was now more than ever. Everything was finally crystal clear. “Days have passed? It has only felt like hours.”
“Time is tricky across dimensions.”
My path split in two directions, and one urged me to sink into this couch, curl into a ball, and never face the world again.
I stood up, choosing the second option. “Okay, okay.” I paced in front of the television screen as books floated above our heads. Dr. Bordo plopped down on the couch and watched me with quiet enthusiasm. “The mystery of the resurrected witch has been solved. Clearly Lucius has been working with Angelina on a ritual for my coronation, just like the one he went through. He wants to corrupt my power with the shadow magick, which I’m sure would erase all of the power the covens poured into me. He would win, and the whole universe would be doomed. That clearly can’t happen.”
“Sounds reasonable,” my eccentric college professor echoed. She was like my own personal cheerleader, and it was strangely comforting. Emphasis onstrange.
“The remaining mystery, however, is why in the hell Lucius died when I did—like we’d been linked.” I paused, running through the events of that day. “Wait. Daelon and Taryn were both on a mission, both heading to the coven of servants to do something important. They were also working together to save me from the coronation. And Daelon told Lucius that he’d made sure it could never happen… and when I died, Taryn said Daelonwas supposed to tell him…” I looked up at Dr. Bordo.
Her hand shot up. “Oh, I know! They were supposed to tell Lucius that your life was linked to his.”
“And why would they link my life to his?”
She lifted her hand again, sitting on the edge of the sofa. “So that he couldn’t kill you when you refused the ritual, because then he, too, would die. A threat on his own existence is probably the only thing that could influence him, after all.”
I nodded. “That does sound like something Daelon would do for me, doesn’t it? But they didn’t know that I had to die to visit the Akashic Records. So… basically… everything sort of got all fucked up.”
“Except not actually, because it happened exactly as it needed to.”
“I’m really just talking to myself, aren’t I?” I asked her, raising a brow.
She shrugged. “Consider me your subconscious tour guide.”
I released a long exhalation. Maybe I was just imagining it, but the air around us felt lighter now. I’d created a contradiction when I unlocked all of this Akashic knowledge—a paradox that obliterated Lucius’s imposed ignorance. The binding spell was finally broken. Now that I knew the truth, everyone could know the truth, and we could move forward with our cosmic mission—though I wasn’t sure just yet how any of that would be accomplished. But now I had more than enough faith to carry the torch until its completion. I also uncovered Lucius’s and Angelina’s plans for me, which meant it was time for Daelon and me to make our escape to Iciera, just as Amos had likely foreseen. Not to mention, Lucius would torture Daelon for eternity if we stayed.
“Does Daelon think I’ve been dead… for days?” I asked, Dr. Bordo’s words finally sinking in. The thought of it made my stomach twist into knots.
It also made me realize it was time to leave, even if it meant I had to face my least favorite person in the universe… and his mother.
Chapter20
