Author's Note: This is Lana's chapter. I loved writing in her voice--I hope you enjoy her thoughts!
Song for this chapter: High Priestess by Active Child
Lana' POV
I'm finding it hard to leave the small staging tent where I'm hiding before the ritual. I know I'm supposed to be raising my personal energy for the ritual. In reality, all I'm raising is a dust cloud. I'm wearing a dirt track round this little tent, frettin' over my ridiculous get-up.
The last time I wore a dress, I was six years old. The last time I wore white...hell, we don't wear white up Mystic Mountain. There is too much life for that. Someone's always spillin' or sloshin', somebody's always asking you to hold their baby for "just a second", and said baby's always pukin' or poopin'. There's always a car that needs a push and pull out of the mud, always some granny witch whose beans needs pickin', and Maeve will make sure a witchlin' gets over there right quick to take care of it.
I wasn't a witchlin' anymore, though. I had made my dedication to the Lord and the Lady. I was a witch now, albeit a witch without a coven, because I had made my dedication as a Solitary, at Hearne's New Moon Ritual, not as a proper Mystic Mountain witch should do, with a coven ritual. It just felt...right. I'm a pagan, and a natural born witch, and magic is my path, but I know I'm not going home to Mystic Mountain, and if I join the Coven it just makes it...harder to get out, when I'm done with school.
Maeve was super pissed about my solitary dedication. So pissed she won't let a single witch from Mystic Mountain come down to the Festival this year to this ritual. That's a shame. This was the first time the Spring Festival actually had any pagan rites at all. Usually it was just the Easter egg hunt, and the bands.
This year, we have a dawn tree planting ceremony, complete with a presiding priestess. That's me. In this ridiculous dress. It's white, and floor length, fairly plain except the green and gold trim at the neck and the matching belt that vee's at my waist and hangs down the front of the dress. The sleeves have the same gold and green trim, banding at my upper arm, and trimming the long bell sleeves.
Carrie picked the dress. She said it was the perfect for the Maiden of Ostara. I was drunk when she showed it to me and she took my giggle for consent and ordered it with two swift clicks on her phone, but now I feel like a poser wearing it. And she's made me wear the heavy amulet with a giant green sapphire...I'm sure it has to be fake, who could afford a gemstone the size of my hand? She braided the right side of my head to match the left, and wound the back up in elaborate coils. She did my makeup, and it looks...softer than I like it. I feel so...naked.
I fiddle with the belt. I'm not worried about the Rite...for some reason I feel surprisingly confident about that part. I'm just worried James is going to show up at the last minute and laugh at me in this damn dress, and I'm worried I'll get mad as hell at him and throw something. And there's not much to throw in this field, except the shovels, the water cans, and the ash buckets that are staged beside each tree to be planted. All of those objects will cause damage. I'd hate to hurt him in a fit of rage, but he makes me so damn mad sometimes. Plus, the Priestess of the Rites cussin' and throwin' shit would not be very reverent.
I peak out of the tent. Where the hell is James Finn anyway? The whole class is here but him. The mountain folk will be arriving soon. Not any of the Mystic Mountainers, but there are pagans all around these parts, not just in Mystic Mountain. I expect there will be non-Pagans, too. Some people just like trees.
I duck back into the tent, and pace the floor some more, trying to get up the nerve to walk out there and face the class in this costume.
"Lana, are you decent?" I don't why Sean bothered to ask, when he just walked right in, anyway. He stops short, staring at me with eyes wide.
"Hell no, I'm ridiculous," I groan, but he shakes his head in protest and pulls me into a giant hug.
"Alanna," he kisses my temple, and pulls back, holding the sides of my head, making me look at him. "You look beautiful. Maeve is gonna regret being such a bitch, when I tell her how...perfectly witchy you look."
My eyes fly wide. "You're talking to Maeve again?" He presses his lips together in that way I know well...that's his..."Huh, I need to manage this situation before Lana punches me" look.
"Sean," I begin, but before I can say more, something catches my attention. A dark line, beneath the thick band of his Apple watch. I grab his wrist, and in a flash I have the watch off, and I'm staring at something I never thought I would see on Sean.
A tattoo...a circle with two crescent circles projecting on each side. A pagaan tattoo—identical to one of mine— marking his dedication to the Triple Goddess of the Moon.
"What the actual fuck, Sean?" I whisper, my hands shaking. I can't believe he would do this. Not now.
He looks disconcerted. "That's weird," he mumbles. "Just what she said."
"Who? Maeve?"
"No. Carrie."
"Carrie? You did this because of her? You didn't have to dedicate yourself just because Carrie is a witch and you two are knocking boots, you know. I love Carrie, but I never thought you were the kind of guy to remake himself into something he's not just because you are getting a little pagan pu—"
"Lana!" Sean's voice was sharp. "Don't talk about Carrie that way. Jesus, she's your..." Sean's mouth worked like he was trying to find the right words, "friend," he finished lamely. "Isn't she?"
"Yes," I reply. "But Dru was my friend first, and I know she's more than that to you. Sean, I see the way you are together during the week. You guys try to act like you aren't romantic...but—"
"We aren't romantic, Lana." Sean said grimly. "Dru and I are strictly platonic."
I snorted. "Go sell that bullshit somewhere else. Do you know what I saw on Wednesday night, when I came back late from Finn's? You two asleep in my dorm room."
"Nothing happened. We were just studying and listening to music."
"Nothing happened except your auras were showing. Dru was on her bed, and you were leaned against it, the two of you sharing headphones, listening to music, but both of you had fallen asleep. She had her arm around you and you had your hand on her wrist keeping it there in your sleep. Your auras were joined, Sean Faraday. The whole room was...glowing, with soft green light—pulsing like a single heartbeat. I know the truth even if you two don't know it. You love each other. I don't understand why you guys are fighting it, and why you are both messing around with other people? Will you please tell me what the fuck you are thinking?"
Sean got the weirdest look on his face as I described their shared aura—like he was in pain—and he put his hand over his heart, rubbing gently. Then he sadly shook his head.
"I already told you, I'm not discussing my relationship with Dru or Carrie with you. There are boundaries, Alanna," he said very gently, and I ground my teeth, trying not to be hurt. There had never been any boundaries between us, until he left Mystic Mountain at twelve years old.
Having Sean back in my life was confusing. At twelve, we had been the same...wild cats, racing around the mountain on our bikes, sneaking muscadine wine from some granny witch's cellar, tubing down the river, our tubes tied together as we passed the bottle back and forth, holding hands to make magic strong enough to maneuver our rafts around the rocky shoals of the shallow river stream. We'd both get our tails whipped for skippin' school, but we would be just as likely to do it again the next week as not.
Then Sean had arrived at Sabit very different than the boy I remembered. He was more cultured, far more reserved, kinder, and much more responsible than me. And way the hell too protective. Part of me was proud that he had grown up so much, and so well. But there was also a jealous, confused part—I wasn't willing to give up my magic to become that stable, that good.
But then again, Sean had been bound for very good reason. Like everything to do with Sean, I felt conflicted about his binding. I was glad he was bound because of the change that it had wrought in him, but since it was mostly my fault that he'd been bound without choice, I felt guilty about it. I shot him a side-long look out of the corner of my eye, and that's when I saw it, beneath the thin white fabric of his button down.
His magic, cast all over his body like ink. He's not bound anymore.
"Sean!" I cry, my voice harsh with the sting of his betrayal.
I slap him. Hard. So hard I have to clench my hand against the pain. His jaw tightens as he moves with the blow, but otherwise he is perfectly still, calm.
Fuck. I didn't mean to do that. I shouldn't hit him. It's not right, and he would never hit me.
But he just screwed us in the most major way. He knows he did, so I don't apologize.
"When?" I hiss.
"Six weeks ago. To be honest, I'm surprised it took you this long to see it."
"I don't understand." I hissed. "How did you undo the binding yourself?"
"I didn't," Sean replies. "Maeve did."
"What!?! Why would she do that?"
"Because there's a more powerful witch at play than her, in my life now. She released her binding so that I could learn from Carrie."
"You promised me," I remind him.
"Lana, we were twelve years old."
"You promised," I repeat. "You promised you would stay bound, so that it would never happen."
"We can't be sure it will happen. The Sight is...not reliable. I should have never told you what I saw..."
I grab him by the shirt and shook him. "Of course you should have! It was about me and you, wasn't it?"
He takes my hands off his shirt. "Lana, I am never going to...do that thing...I saw at twelve years old. I am never going to hurt you like that."
I feel my eyes welling up with tears. "I don't know, Sean. Our path seems like it's heading in the exact right direction for that. I never thought you would come to Sabit, and you did."
"Because I missed you, Lana."
I nod. I missed him too. It's hard to be ripped from your best friend that you'd spent every day of your life with, just because some grown-up assholes decided they didn't love each other anymore.
"I never in a million years, thought you would unbind your magic. I know you weren't happy when Maeve bound you, but look at you know. And knowing what could happen, with your magic back. Why, Sean? Why would you do this?"
Sean's mouth works, and after a minute, he shakes his head. "It's a long story, and a story that's not all mine to tell. After this is over, maybe, you and Carrie and I can have a long talk, okay?" He pulls my head to his lips again. I feel like a complete bitch. I slapped him, and he kisses me.
"Don't worry about it. I promise you, I'm not going dark. You have nothing to worry about, from me. Now, get out there and make magic, okay?"
"Hearne said no magic," I murmur. "Just feel-good rites."
"Well by all means, do what that fucker says," Sean mumbles, but he reaches into one of the long coolers, and pulls a beautiful hair garland made from ivy and gardenias. It smells so good, but way too sweet for me.
"That should be Dru's," I protest, but he shakes his head.
"Gardenia is the symbol of refined beauty. It's the flower for the belle of the ball. Today, that's you, Alanna." Sean takes both my hands and spreads them wide, like we are dancing. He looks at me with such...pride...it makes me slap him again—on the arm, but softly, very softly.
"Get out," I whisper. He winks, takes a massive armload of flowers garlands, and leaves.
For some reason, I kneel and pray. That's not part of my normal practice, but today it feels...right. I get lost in the prayer for a minute, and then I hear the rustle of the tent flap. I rise, half embarrassed to be found at prayer, but even as I'm rising with my eyes still closed, I feel the auras coming off the two figures that have entered. I open my eyes, but I am unprepared for the sight in front of me.
It's Hearne and Carrie, but it's...not. Their auras show me the truth.
Hearne's aura is green and amber and brown, muscling around him in constant motion, vines growing and trees swaying and beasts running all at once. I've never seen an aura like this...it's not bright in color but its ten thousand times more powerful than any human aura I've seen—including a witch's. It's not the color or the constant motion that lets me know what he is, though...it's the shadow of the massive, hooking horns that rise from his head.
And Carrie beside him—her aura is silver and blue and black, and orangey fire—all the colors of moon. The light and dark colors shift all around her, and she is motion too...not like the motion of the forest, but the motion of a perpetual cycle of aging. Her aura shadows her features and shape. It changes her from girlish, through the shape of pregnancy, and then the aura casts shadows of age on her face. Her aura smooths and she is her young self again, and the aura repeats the cycle.
Hearne is the Horned God. Carrie is the Triple Goddess of the Moon.
"Fuck me," I whisper staring between them. Dammit, that's probably not what you're supposed to say to a god and goddess on one of their holy days. "Shit! Sorry." Well, that's no better. I drop to my knees again, figuring that's better than more cursing. Somehow I manage to murmur, "My Lord and Lady."
"Rise, Alanna. You may call us by name...Cernunnos," he points to himself and then to Carrie, "and the Goddess Cerridwen." I stay on my knees, awed by their powerful auras. Hearne lifts me up by the elbows and embraces me, then relinquishes me to Carrie, who does the same. She has tears in her eyes, but she squints and blinks them back. I've never seen Carrie cry. Not even when she broke up with Max.
"You are SO fierce, Alanna. I knew from the moment I saw you what you were—a worthy High Priestess."
Hearne murmured his agreement and cupped my cheek. It felt surreal...like I was a little child that had done something to enamor her parents.
"You guys are...real? I mean, you're... actually incarnate?"
"Yep, I'm a goddess in the flesh for about twelve thousand years, now" Carrie laughs through her tears. She jerks her head at Hearne, "Longer for him. He's an old man, compared to me. When you made your commitment, you were making it to us."
"Holy shit," I laugh and they looked at each other and laugh with me.
Another realization strikes me. "Dru and Sean, do they know?"
"Faraday does," Hearne says, "I'm bringing Dru slowly to the truth. But obviously, you were ready to see it."
"But—" I want to protest, and tell Hearne how fucked up that is—that he can't not tell Dru who he is. But then I realize, he is a god, and my Lord, and I meant it when I said I want to follow the old ways. And right now, my instincts are screaming at me to honor my vow, and serve him. So I don't tell Cernunnos that I think he's a jerk for hiding his divinity from my best friend, whom he's shacking up with.
And then I realize that Sean made his commitment knowing what Carrie was. He was not dedicating himself in the abstract—he was committing to her. That's freaky—like a marriage or something. I look at Carrie and I feel my own tears welling over. I could share Sean with Dru, but I can never compete with a Goddess. "Sean..." I murmur.
"It's okay, Lana." Carrie shoots a guilty look at Hearne. "His commitment to me is only for a year and day. He and Hearne had a little argument, and he thought Hearne might kill him, that's all. I just put myself between them until the testosterone dies down a little."
Hearne looked relieved, "Is that truly all it is? The lad feared me, and ran behind your skirts?"
"Well that, and the poor child is a natural born sexwitch. He needs help." Carrie winks, and I wince.
Hearne pales. I didn't know he could do that, but he literally pales. "No," he objects, in denial.
"Ohhhh, yessss," Carrie says with a smug smile.
I feel a little worried at the revelation that Sean is a sexwitch. Sexwitchery is not really talked about up Mystic Mountain. At least I understand Sean's very private attitudes toward his love life now. I try not to think about how hard it must be for him...it's like he's Clark Kent having a Marilyn Manson streak running right down his libido. Poor Sean. Striped as a freaky skunk, or he will be, now that his magic is unbound. I shudder, and put the thoughts of Sean with whips and chains away. Maybe Dru is better off with the Horned God.
Then, thinking of Hearne with Dru sort of makes the truth of Hearne and Carrie hit home. With the disappointment of a child, I feel my stomach falling. "Oh, oh, but you broke up. You aren't a godpair anymore."
Hearne wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "It's okay, Alanna. It doesn't change the fact that we both love you. We will both always be here for you." Carrie nods her agreement, but I notice she is swallowing hard.
"How is this even going to work? Am I going to...split holidays with you guys, are what?" I remember Sean at twelve years old, asking that of Maeve and Colin. I shiver at the flashback. This is all really fucked up.
Hearne and Carrie share a glance I don't understand. Carrie pats me on the shoulder. "We can talk about all that later. But today, we are celebrating together. You are the presiding priestess. Nothing about the ritual changes, except that you know...how proud we are of you, and that we stand with you in tradition."
Hearne squeezes Carrie on the shoulder and opens the tent flap for her. She kisses me and smiles. "You've got this, just like we practiced," she assures me. Hearne tucks my arm under his and walks me to the center of the field. I feel ridiculous, like a bride with no groom waiting. That makes me think of James and I snort, because I know we sure as hell aren't ever getting married, and its kind of fitting that he's blowing off this ceremony—almost like a confirmation to me that we have no future. I look around one last time. Nope, he's not here.
But this is not about him. This is about the welcoming of spring, the renewal of faith, the opening to abundance. It's about the blessing the trees, and the people. Hearne bows to me as he leaves me alone in the center of the small ring of my classmates. Beyond them are six rings of saplings waiting to be planted by the festival goers. The festival goers are stationed in groups of four, around each tree, having already dug their holes.
Dru beams at me. I notice that Sean has crowned her with honeysuckle vines, and her white dress is fucking fabulous—or it would be, if it were black, or maybe even purple—a crochet-hippie mini-thing that I'm sure Hearne bought for her, or snapped his fingers and clothed her in or something. It's way sexier than she would ever choose for herself. Hearne takes his place beside her, putting his hand on her back.
Oh shit. I get it now. What he wants with her. He wants a new goddess. And she doesn't know. And something in me knows that I can't tell her. Like I physically can't tell her—he won't let me. And I realize, neither can Sean. Just like he couldn't tell me about Carrie. That's what he was holding back, in the tent. But now that I know his magic is unbound...I wonder...
I shoot Sean a narrow look trying to communicate with him that I know. I saw them, their auras.
His eyes widen. Ha! Now that his magic is back, we've still got it...that secret communication thing.
He nods back, smiles and I just know what he's thinking...Yeah, yeah. Horned God, Triple Goddess. Hate him, love her. Now's not the time. The Ritual, Lana. Remember?
I nod. Okay, okay. Stop rushing me.
I nod to Isabel and Leander. Isabel is a flautist, Leander the best drummer, and she and Lander play a simple interlude to start the ritual.
I keep my eyes on Carrie, and she lets her grace flow to me, and I begin to speak.
The ritual moves through me, as if I am only a conduit. The opening words I memorized weren't the ones that came. The words I speak are my own. They flow effortlessly, they feel right, and I watch the faces of the participants open to my words.
Each participant has a role. Once I'm finished with the opening prayer, the class turns outward, extending the prayer's energy to the grove that will be planted. I call one person at each tree to add ash into the pre-dug holes. I speak of the energy of the sun, and the nourishment of the sacred ash to fertilize the soil. Other participants lower each tree into their holes, and I thank the tree for the bounty and shade and stability it will provide. Then the trees are watered by still others, and I ask for the Mother of the sacred waters to bless these trees with life. Carrie smiles and I feel her power—her true power—wash over me for the first time, and I want to weep from joy and run to her, but somehow I keep going forward with the ritual. The children have the last part of the ritual...they were each given feathers. I tell them to ring the trees and fan them with their feathers, and thank the trees for the clean air they will provide for generations to come. All the participants smile and laugh at the children, skipping around and fanning the small samplings.
Then I pray the final prayer. I ask for the "Spirit of the Forests" to bless these young trees, and all who endeavored to plant them. Hearne told me not to use specifics, nothing overtly pagan, no named gods in this ritual, but in my mind, I am praying to him as he stands in front of me, smiling. He blesses me, blesses us all. I feel Cernunnos' power for the first time, and it makes me want to laugh and run wild through the newly planted grove. He smiles; he feels my abandon. His hand makes the slightest quelling motion, and the urge I feel to run eases.
Then I speak to the trees. I welcome them into fellowship, into peace with the planters. I promise the trees that the sun will grow them, the earth will open to their roots, the rains will sustain their life, and the winds will carry their seed.
I tell the planters to live like the trees—to be steady, to be strong, to shelter the smaller beneath their branches, to reach for the highest shaft of sunlight, and to harm none.
I close the ceremony in song—honestly not the song I meant to sing, but I think it must be one Carrie sends me, in the Gaelic, or maybe something older. The tune is simple, and haunting, and when I finish there is a murmur of deep satisfaction that filters through the grove, and with a feeling that is not at all surprise, I realize it's not just the sound of the planters, but also of the trees.
Cernunnos cocks his ear toward the trees and raises his eyebrows. Yes, I can hear them, I nod. He smiles and winks at me. I guess being a Priestess of the the Lord of the Forest means I can speak to trees now.
A/N: You don't want to miss Friday's chapter. It's Cerridwen's chapter, and she gets up to some mischief with Sean..and James. Wha?...Oh AND you get to hear what it was REALLY like for her, being married to Cernunnos all those millennia...until then...
Please vote if you like Trees. Or Rituals. Or Priestesses-Slash-Hillbilly Hellcats!