Page 52 of The Rowan's Stone
To the Rowan,witch of all seven bloodlines,
I can’t imagine what you will think of the MacAllisters after reading the story. As the matriarch of the clan, I want to share our struggles with you.
Many, many times over the years, we sent delegates to the council, begging them to change their minds about witches with mixed heritages, encouraging them to accept every witch, not just those of pure blood. Every time, they refused to countenance the very idea.
We frequently debated whether or not to tell them of the stone, but we feared what they would do with the knowledge. Would they demand we hand over the stone? In our hands, we all benefitted from the sacrifice, even if they weren’t aware of the source of their power or our direct contribution to it. If the stone were to fall into their hands, we feared for the continuation of the MacAllisters. Although stronger, we were fewer in number. Still, every time a new matriarch came to power, we would debate and reassess the situation. Each time, we failed to find the courage or the confidence to share our knowledge.
When I came to power, I went to the council to judge for myself, and what I saw concerned me greatly. Even I, a powerful witch, was viewed and judged with disdain because our bloodline still consorted and mated with dragons. Resolved to keep our secret, I returned home.
But during my only visit, I met Gemma Perrone, and apparently, this triggered an avalanche of visions—visions that would change the course of the MacAllisters forever.
Gemma came to me a couple of years later to share those visions and to ask for my help. Her visions had shown her the stone, and she knew if all MacAllisters perished, so would the source of witch magic everywhere. At first, I refused. If we were to fall, then why should I care about the very ones who would murder us?
She stayed with me for a year, and I came to trust in her and her visions, but that isn’t what changed my mind. As the matriarch, I visited with MacAllisters every day, helping in whatever way they needed. Every time I looked at them, the knowledge they would cease to exist in a year burned a hole in my heart, and even though I wanted to, I couldn’t share it with them. The consequences for that path were too severe, as shown by one of Gemma’s visions, with a war between witches and supernaturals and thousands of deaths being the most likely outcome.
What finally changed my mind was the way of our death. We all die, but to erase our very existence from this earth, to make it so nobody would remember us, mourn us, or carry our stories forward, made me furious. As the matriarch, I couldn’t bear it. The MacAllisters have been in this world for over two thousand years, but in one night, someone would steal our souls and entire heritage? I refused to let it happen. If I followed Gemma’s suggestion and saved one person, someday, we would be remembered, and the prophesied Rowan, witch of seven bloodlines, would be the one to tell our story and carry forth our heritage.
Gemma and I planned, and where needed, we pulled in outsiders to assist. If you’re reading this journal, then I’m sure you’ve met my dear friend, Glynnis. I knew she would honor my wishes and wear the medallion her entire life, not only to remember me and my kin, but to show the Rowan the path.
When it came time to choose the MacAllister witch to save, the decision had to be left up to fate. Gemma and I chose five young MacAllister witches to flee before the massacre, all of them female and orphans with no families. We knew women had a better chance of blending in and finding shelter. Their children would take their fathers’ surnames, but secretly, they would have MacAllister blood. When they set off, I cried because I knew only one would make it and the others were simply decoys. It is another burden to carry to my grave.
Gemma and I parted ways shortly after, as she had other things to do to ensure the survival of our line, like hide the original Rowan tapestry and leave messages and clues for the future. When she left, I knew my time was short, and I had to finish my remaining tasks quickly.
Using blood magic, I created all the necessary spells to secure our legacy and filled the hidden chamber with chests containing our history. At the last minute, I added our grimoire, although I did put a spell on it to cover up any MacAllisters born between my time and yours as a precaution.
With a few days remaining, the only thing left to do is add this journal and my final words. The stone is now in your hands, along with the responsibility that goes with it. Many MacAllisters and their mates served to fuel the power in the stone. One mate pairing will not do it, and if the witches are still practicing exclusivity, they will not have enough power left to give to the stone either. You will have to find another way. It will take both your blood and a great burst of power to fuel it again, but Gemma assures me you will find the solution. My only caution is to not follow in our footsteps. Once it’s fueled, do not hide the secret of the stone. Share it.
When you share our story, please do so with kindness and grace. The MacAllister witches lived, we were fierce, and we created a powerful legacy. Don’t let us be forgotten.
Agnes, Matriarch of the MacAllisters
Fiona MacAllister
Aileen MacAllister
Catriona MacAllister
Lara MacAllister
Sima MacAllister
Tracingthe five names in front of me, I wonder which one is my ancestor. As to the rest of the journal, it will take time to digest. I’ll probably read it a hundred times before I can begin to comprehend it and all of its nuances. If I’m to tell their story, I want it to be rich and full like their lives.
When I started my journey to find my destiny, I hadn’t realized the legacy I’d be inheriting along with it. I hoped it would be something worthy of my mother’s death, and it is. To have the chance to save witches everywhere, it’s powerful and worth one person’s life. But hundreds of MacAllisters? A whole legacy almost lost? I’m not sure witches are worthy of such sacrifice, myself included. Would I give up my powers to save them, absolutely yes, but it’s too late, and now I can only honor their sacrifice by continuing on this path and by telling their story.
As the Rowan, I know what I need to do now, but I don’t know how I’m going to do it. According to Gemma, I’ll find a way to power the stone, but once it’s powered, what will I do with it? The witches are the same today as they were in Agnes’ time. Simply fueling the stone will only allow them to maintain the status quo until the stone’s power dwindles completely. I sigh and rub my temples. Another problem for another day.
The next step is to find my ancestor, and hopefully, my father and the second journal. “Theron,” I murmur, not wanting to startle him. When he turns his head, I stretch over and hand him the journal. “There are five names listed at the bottom of the journal. We need to research them and find which one of them is my ancestor, but we need to do so quietly and without using the MacAllister last name. Do you have anyone in your network who can assist? We can probably narrow it down to unknown witches entering Elven territory around twelve hundred years ago.”
He ponders the question for a second. “I may have a way to find them myself if I can get access to the tax records. Back then, every person living in a territory was recorded in a ledger to make sure they paid taxes. If we have first names and an approximate time period, I can narrow it down within a few days.” He motions to the journal. “Do you mind if I read it?”
Waving my hand at them all, I shake my head. “Please, you can all read it. I’m going to bed. My head’s killing me from the emotional and informational overload.” They all glance at each other, their faces mirroring their concern, then crowd around Theron. “Goodnight.”
31
ARDEN
The next day, I’m feeling flattened by the knowledge swimming in my brain and the emotion filling my heart. Every step I take on this journey leads me to another discovery, and if it weren’t for the strength of the cadre and my family supporting me, I’d have run away, even if it was just for a moment.
