Word Count: 3224 | Estimated Reading Time: 16 minutes
In Chapter 8 Kit visits the journalist who reveals a little more about Stella Rivers and her family. Meanwhile, Xanthe is introduced to the Truth Weaver who challenges her about the prophecy and explains a little about her mothers involvement in the Seventh Coven.
Chapter Nine
After they had feasted, the Truth Weaver stood, and the mood shifted a little.
“It is time for you to learn the art of the mirror.” She flicked her cloak like she flicked her mood. Her position was now one of tutor and Xanthe swallowed. She had enjoyed the friendly talk as they had eaten.
“Do you have another name?” Xanthe asked, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “The Truth Weaver seems so formal.”
“Well, Princess Ayla, we all have our cross to bear. What would you like to call me?” The woman made her way down the steps, almost floating as her cloak hovered around her feet.
Xanthe followed, but with much more caution. She noted that there had been several candles lit. Seven of them outlined the outer circle of the wheel. Inside the wheel at the centre stood a large ornate mirror, catching the threads of sunlight that filtered through the ceiling. But who had lit those?
She glanced back at Cobweb, who watched them from the top step before jumping to the step she stood on, weaving through her legs, past the Truth Weaver and into the circle. He patrolled the floor as if expecting trouble, then he lowered his belly to the ground and stretched his legs out in front of him, bathing in the light. His mask glinted and cast tiny shadows around the room, which he followed with squinted eyes.
When they reached the bottom, the Truth Weaver stood in front of the mirror and Xanthe behind her. But she could only see her own reflection. How could that be? She lifted her hand and touched the Truth Weaver’s cloak. She was real, so why wasn’t she seeing her in the glass?
The Truth Weaver stood to one side and beckoned Xanthe forward.
“The mirror will help you find the truth. Its magick does not lie. It will not show you what you want to see, but will provide you with the answers that you may not want to hear, so it must be used carefully. Like the Book of Words, the seer needs to let herself believe, otherwise it will show you nothing.”
“Why can’t the Book show me these truths? When I’ve needed a place to go, it showed me this house and the bridge. And it taught me the fire spell.”
The Truth Weaver smiled. “The mirror is a portal to your soul. You can see what you want to see, but with the right questions, you can find the answers you didn’t know you needed. As the Moon Princess, you have many skills yet to be uncovered. Mirror Magick is just one of them but an important introduction which will lead you to the others. The Book of Words is your prophecy, which one day you will hand down.”
Xanthe shook her head. “It all sounds so complicated.”
“The mirror reveals not only truths, but secrets, too. Are you willing to let the mirror in?”
Xanthe squirmed a little. She had nothing to hide. Did she?
“I think so.” She counted to seven under her breath.
The Truth Weaver stood behind the mirror and arched an eyebrow. “You only think so? The mirror is a powerful tool. Be sure.” She leant on her staff, the skull staring down at Xanthe with vacant eyes. Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure.
The mirror was oval and showed Xanthe’s full reflection. Noticing how sloped her shoulders were, she straightened her back. She had nothing to lose. Did she? One thing was for sure. The Truth Weaver had answers, even though she didn’t know the questions. And the cat looked pretty important. If they were going to harm her, they would have had their chance whilst she was sleeping. She was being paranoid.
“Will it tell me about my mother?” There she had said it.
The Truth Weaver cocked her head to one side.
“I can’t speak for the mirror,” she said. “First, I would suggest you clear your mind of everything. Just allow yourself to be you and take the first step of finding yourself in the mirror.”
Xanthe rolled her eyes. She didn’t enjoy looking in mirrors because it always reminded her of how different she was. The pale thick braids that hung down her back like rat tails, the pink tips. She had preferred her looks when as Princess Ayla, if she was honest. As the moon princess, she’d had darker skin, as if kissed by the sun and sleek white hair. The image of her flashed in the mirror. The edges of her reflection wavered as if in moving water. It changed between the Xanthe here and that of the Moon Princess in the Kingdom.
“The mirror is showing your desires, Princess—”
“Xanthe, please, I’m just plain old Xanthe.” She had made a mess of being the Moon Princess. It was a title she didn’t deserve.
Cobweb wove in and out of her legs, his body bending and stretching as he went in and out, soothing her heart.
She stared defiantly back at her reflection. Who are you? She asked silently.
The surface of the mirror shimmered, blurring everything, and then it settled. It showed Toovah, trapped within the trunk of a large tree, staring at her with evil in her eyes. Xanthe stepped back. The image then portrayed the Moon People, all smiling at her, welcoming her with open arms. This image faded and a large black wolf appeared in the distance walking towards her, his jaws dripping with blood, his eyes eager for the kill.
“Malik,” she sobbed and dropped to her knees. Cobweb meowed softly. “I killed Malik.” A wolf howl rang out in the distance and she clasped her hands over her ears. “Please make it go away.”
The Truth Weaver knelt beside Xanthe and lifted her chin. “Child, banish this wrong from your mind. You will not move forward to the truth unless you accept the lie.”
“But it’s not a lie, is it?” Xanthe sobbed, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces. “I killed Malik, my Guardian. Someone who was protecting me.”
“What are you afraid of?”
Xanthe shook her head.
“We all have fear.”
“So you tell me yours, then” Xanthe turned to the woman, searched her face, peered into the blank eye sockets for something. She was beautiful, full of kindness.
“My fear is for you, Xanthe. My fear is I cannot help you see your truth. My fear is that you will forever punish yourself for a crime you did not commit. My fear is that you will never accept help.”
The woman helped Xanthe to her feet. “This is a painful process. But one you must complete if you are to move forward on your journey to the Seventh Coven. You cannot proceed until you do.”
“I don’t even know what the Seventh Coven is,” said Xanthe, with a catch to her throat. “I came because I thought I would find answers.”
Xanthe stared back at herself in the mirror. All she wanted was some answers. Just to know why. Why had her mother left her.? Why hadn’t she been in touch? The Truth Weaver came and stood behind her, and the surface misted over again. She placed a hand on Xanthe’s shoulder and squeezed gently. It was a soothing touch, and Xanthe dipped her head to the side.
“Remember, empty your mind when seeking the answers you want. Create some space. The answers are there. You just need to be open to them. Let them in.”
Xanthe took a deep breath, exhaled, and counted to seven. The mist cleared and behind a young woman, not much older than herself. Xanthe turned, but the Truth Weaver increased the pressure on her shoulder.
“I used to be just like you before I joined the coven. A normal girl, as you say.”
“Were you at the Wishing Well Centre?
The young woman nodded. She was dressed in normal clothes, though dated. And she was staring straight back at Xanthe with the prettiest green eyes.
“You could see?” Xanthe’s heart fluttered. What had made her go blind? Was it a spell that had gone wrong?
The image faded to blackness again, and the pressure on Xanthe’s shoulder slackened.
“So much for you to understand, but not now—”
Xanthe spun around. “You knew my mother. Stella. You did, didn’t you?” Why was it so difficult to find out about her mother? Why did she not want to be found?”
“All will make sense. But you have a long journey to take. And you might not make it. It's not within my gift right now to give you all the answers. You need to trust, Xanthe. And believe.
“Will I meet her?” Xanthe’s bottom lip trembled.
“Who knows? Only the truth will tell. You came to find your mother. And the Seventh Coven has the answers you seek but it will not be a straightforward journey.” The witch ran her arm, tracing out the wheel within which they stood. “The Wheel has protected the coven for many moons without fail, but there are dangers now within. Evil which has seeped from the Kingdom, threatening the members of the Seventh Coven and its High Priestess. There are those out with the wheel how have tried to destroy the coven and all it stands for. There are those who wish you harm, Xanthe, because you have the answers. You just don’t know it yet.”
Kit left the cottage none the wiser. The house was on the estate somewhere, but hidden by a spell. He was sure that Xanthe had gone there. He slowed down a little as he drove out of the village and noticed a figure walking towards the estate. It was Melanie. She can’t have got a lift back. He couldn’t very well ignore her now. And she had seen him, anyway.
He brought the bike to a standstill just behind her. She grinned, though it looked as though she’d been crying.
“You okay?” he asked, handing her the helmet. She nodded and rubbed her nose with the back of her sleeve.
“Course I am,” she took the helmet. “I missed your dad. He's probably mad at me.”
Kit shrugged. “Probably. He is a busy man.” He may not have seen the text. Hardly her fault. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back.”
Despite his feelings for Melanie, he couldn’t see her walk all the way back to the centre in the drizzle. It was miles away and her footwear wasn’t appropriate. He was so glad Xanthe wasn’t like Melanie and her cronies. She was different. Stood out amongst the crowd.
The roads wove in and out of woodland and open groves as green as far as you could see with gentle slopes and where Kit sometimes practised a little off-road scrambling. Not that he’d tell his dad. What he didn’t know couldn’t harm him, right? He scrutinised the estate boundaries, looking for something different or out of place, gathering up speed on the straight bits and slowing down on the bends. He almost forgot about Melanie behind him.
Suddenly he passed a turning he hadn’t noticed before and he was sure that he’d travelled every inch of this road. He stopped and turned to look behind him. Melanie’s face was bright red with the wind and her ponytail had caught up in the helmet’s strap. She smiled as he turned the bike and retraced their travel. On either side of the road was a bank of tightly planted conifer trees which reached towards the sky, like a living wall, creating gigantic shadows across the road. There was no opening he could see. Then he spotted a signpost which propped up against the hedge. Someone had been through here recently. He revved the bike up and tried to force his way through the foliage. Melanie’s grip tightened around his waist. A shadow cast over them as the atmosphere changed. The temperature dropped and a tremendous clap of thunder roared right over their heads. A flash of lightning and Kit saw the outline of an animal with horns.
He looked left and right as the bike wobbled slightly underneath him, as he searched and search. He gripped at the handlebars, making the tender skin on his hands stretch and a shot of pain ran through him, making him loosen his grip. Out of the shadows, a shape appeared and a huge stag stood out in front of him. The antlers, shaped like a crown, framed the animal’s head.
Melanie screamed and leaned the wrong way and Kit steered another way to prevent them from hitting the animal, who stood as still as a statue head on. A flash of lightning struck and Kit felt the bike slip from under him as the wheels skidded onto the damp grass and he tumbled from the bike, rolling and rolling down a small incline where his head connected with a large stone and Kit saw stars. His world went black as he heard Melanie screaming his name.
Kit opened his eyes. His head throbbed, and he squinted at the weak sunlight. A girl sat beside him with tears streaking down her face. His helmet lay at his side and his legs stretched out in front of him. He couldn’t move. The girl continued to sob as the darkness took him again.
“What do you mean?” Xanthe wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve as she turned and glared at the Truth Weaver. “Why would anyone be interested in me? I’m an orphan, remember? Abandoned at the centre because she wasn’t lovable enough. Even as a baby. Everyone loves a baby. Don’t they?” Xanthe had become almost hysterical, her voice rising and rising with the anger she’d buried deep inside for years.
“Self pity is neither healing nor productive,” the Truth Weaver pierced her with an empty stare. “You have choices, Xanthe. Either to wallow in your anger and let it eat away at you or—”
“Or what, exactly?” Xanthe clenched her chin. “You’ve talked about my mother, my truths, my lies, but you haven’t told me why I’m here.”
“You came here of your own volition, if I remember correctly.”
“Yes, yes, I did. The Book of Words showed me the way. But why?”
The Truth Weaver sighed deeply. “Because your journey has not ended. You have a long way to go.”
“Yeah, yeah, right? You’ve already said that. What exactly does that mean?” She folded her arms across her chest as Cobweb wound in and out of her legs.
“I’m sorry,” he purred. “But I have to do something.” He turned to the Truth Weaver.
“She needs some plain answers. I know you don’t have them all. Can’t you just tell her she is descended from the High Priestess? That she’s got witch blood in her?”
Xanthe snapped her head around at the word witch.
“I’m no more a witch than you are a tiger,” she said.
“You can perform the fire spell, can’t you?”
Xanthe nodded. “Yes, but I learnt that. As a one off. To defeat Toovah.”
“All witches have to learn, Xanthe, and you have more to learn than others.”
“What if I don’t want to be a witch?”
“Why would you deny your powers? There is an entire community of us, if you just open your eyes.”
Xanthe rubbed her forehead. The familiar ache of a migraine. Though she’d not had one since she had returned from the Kingdom. Not since she’d defeated Toovah.
“I’ve learnt to be alone. To depend on no-one on nothing. Powers mean nothing to me.” She sat down on the floor in front of the mirror and crossed her legs. “I don’t know what to do. Surely there are others. More qualified than me.”
The Truth Weaver nodded. “Of course there are. And many that would give their all to be in your shoes. But your powers cannot be gifted. You are at the end of the line. If you do not choose the path to the Seventh Coven, then the Kingdom will perish and all the witches associated with it.”
Xanthe snorted and then regretted her lack of respect.
“You are the future, Xanthe. It doesn’t really matter what you think or feel. If things had been different, you would have been indoctrinated a long time ago. These revelations would not be so… so strange and upsetting. But I have to ask you one thing.”
She waved her hand in the air. “Help yourself. I can’t promise to give you the answer you want.”
Cobweb meowed and turned his back on Xanthe.
“You went through a rigorous initiation ceremony in the Kingdom, you fought and overcame the evil that was Toovah and you freed the people. Your people. But did you destroy the ultimate enemy? Did you truly believe that it was all over and done with?”
In the mirror a black smoke twirled, forming shapes and evaporating, only to reappear again. Xanthe’s throat constricted. The smoke became thicker and denser, smothering her reflection and she struggled to get her breath.
“The Dark Lords are regaining their strength. They have always been the real enemy and have infiltrated many covens here. They have turned families against families and destroyed the trust that once held together our community and your family. Your family paid the highest price.”
In the mirror, the smoke dissipated, and Xanthe breathing eased. “My family?” she croaked.
“Your mother had no other choice but to abandon you. It was the safest thing she could do. And the hardest. If she hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here now. There was a death sentence on your head. If you want genuine honesty, it’s still there now. Only you can change that.”
Xanthe stared through the tears that stung her eyes.
“So who is my mother and why hasn’t she come to find me? If I’m that important. Or is that I am important to the coven, but not my mother?”
“You misunderstand me, Xanthe. They trapped your mother between the worlds. Between the veil that serves the Moon and Earth. He betrayed her and cannot break free. Not until the curse that put her there is put right and reversed.”
“Curse? What curse?” Xanthe shook her head. Kit would just have a field day with all this information. How she wished he was here right now, to help her sort through this.
Cobweb became agitated, his fur standing on edge, so he almost doubled in size with his gaze fixed on the mirror.
In the glass, Xanthe saw Kit lying on the floor and a snake writhing out from under him. She covered her mouth to stifle a scream. His bike lay to one side, and he was not moving. To the right of Kit was another figure, lying at the foot of a large tree. Grey black smoke swirled around her and she moved and moaned. Melanie. A small light caught Xanthe’s eye, and she moved closer to the mirror. In Melanie’s hand was the moonstone, beaming brightly and calling to her troll beads. Xanthe shook her wrist as the stones glowed.
“Kit?” she shouted at the glass and then turned to the Truth Weaver. “Where is he? We’ve got to help him. Please.” She stood up. “Please. He’s my friend.”
The Truth Weaver nodded and Cobweb leapt to her shoulder. She held out her hand to Xanthe and took one hand. “Place your hand on the mirror,” she instructed. “You must concentrate on where you want to be. You must concentrate hard. Now, close your eyes.”
The tenth episode of Thunder Moon will be posted next Friday at midnight. This first book in the the serialisation of The Luna Legends is free to all my subscribers and I would love to hear your thoughts. Thank you so much for your support.
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