Chapter - Twenty-Two

Angel summoned the portal we needed to communicate with Cyra. She used her gold magic to create a space in the middle of the room. Then she cast off her robes, laid them out in a crescent-moon shape and began to draw runes and symbols around them in chalk. Volker lit all the candles and threw magic into the air, wielding his purple fire with precision. Felix and I moved furniture out of the way while avoiding the two mumbling warlocks.

‘Is everything set?' Volker asked Angel. ‘No need to be perfect.'

She stood up and shook out her hair. ‘This is Cyra. It must be perfect.'

Volker nodded. ‘Tabitha, Felix, stand behind us. We shall begin.' He sounded different, almost nervous. ‘Please wait for us to introduce you to Cyra.'

‘But I— ‘

‘Please heed the warnings, Tabitha,' Volker said. ‘We know Cyra. Have seen what a Fae goddess can do when enraged. It is better to stay back and safe until the time is right.'

Angel kicked off her shoes as she sashayed towards me. ‘Cyra has been around for a very, very long time. She appears in ancient history books and is woven into every story. But she is a goddess, which means she can be kind, but also cruel. She might come across as harsh or offensive in her way of speech.'

‘So what do we do?' Felix asked. ‘When we speak with her, I mean.'

‘You will not speak,' Angel said, silencing him. ‘You are of no interest to a goddess.'

‘But I'm Tabitha's—'

‘Pet deathskin,' she said. ‘Nothing more. It is Tabitha's destiny and hers to fulfil alone. That is final.'

Felix flushed red. ‘I'm rather hungry, you know. And I've heard prophecies about warlock blood.'

‘Don't try to drink from me or I'll curse my blood and make you blind, boy.'

Volker scowled. ‘That's it. Stop your bickering and let us get on with the process. Get behind us, now.'

Felix and I moved back from the crescent and stood near the alter and throne, perturbed about not being involved in the process. Volker and Angel stood either side of the pentagram. Angel swirled her hands around and bursts of deep gold magic, shaped like a dove, sparkled into the air. Volker whirled his own purple magic. It fluttered around the room in the shape of a deer. They both continued to circle the room until rune circles revolved around their hands. Pushing both circles together, they began to chant.

Felix and I stood transfixed as their chanting intensified and they moved around each other counter-clockwise. Angel's bright eyes were on fire and her irises turned emerald green as the chalk sizzled beneath the warlocks. Volker's magic flickered and glowed as sparks spat out from the sides, nearly hitting me square in the leg.

‘Move back,' Volker hissed.

The whites of Angel's eyes flashed in the bright spurts of light. ‘She is close.'

‘Keep going!' Volker urged Angel on. ‘Just a minute more.'

They continued to whirl their hands around and the chanting reached crescendo. An ancient drumbeat echoed in the chamber. Wind howled around the room. The candles flickered in a ghoulish manner, almost like they were spelled. Felix stepped backwards slightly, his footsteps heavy in the room. Volker and Angel circled like bloodhounds as the room began to rumble. Fire started within the crescent-moon pentagon. Volker threw out his hand and everything disappeared.

And then there was quiet.

A portal of green opened. It was carved in runes and symbols that matched the circles that swirled around the warlocks' hands. The portal was alive. It glistened and shimmered, moving like rippling water. As I moved closer, I saw flashes of forest – a tree taller than the any I'd ever seen before; bushes bursting with flora and fauna. All of them wild. I shivered; both wonder and fear creeping through my spine, and I knew it was her influence.

Volker cleared his throat. ‘Cyra, Fae Guardian of the forest. Will you come forward and speak with me?'

The air was still but electricity crackled from the emerald portal. My hands were cold when I pressed them to my belly. Nobody moved.

Angel sang like a bird. ‘Cyra, we wish to speak with you, Goddess.'

‘We are not coming in vengeance; this is just to talk,' Volker continued.

The portal flared up. Footsteps echoed. Then, a voice said, ‘Who dares to ask me for speech? Leave.'

The voice was rich and melodious. I moved forward, wanting nothing more than to step through the portal and see her. Was she small like me? Did we bear the same facial features or limb length? Did her brows arch like mine and did her feet flatten along the earth? All these thoughts spun through me like spider webs and I hurried to Volker, catching his arm. He glanced down at me, his eyes full of sorrow.

‘Step through.'

‘What? But I thought you said she wouldn't listen.'

‘She will not listen to us. It has to be you.'

I stepped forward reluctantly. Felix grabbed my hand, his eyes wide. ‘Please don't do this,' he pleaded. ‘Don't go.'

‘I have to.'

‘Let me go with you,' he whispered, his cracking voice breaking my heart.

‘You know you can't. But I'll be right back, I promise.' I gave him a crooked grin, my heart thumping erratically inside my ribcage. I pulled him to me for a second to kiss his cheek, his skin smooth beneath my lips. As I drew away, I thought I detected a look of desperation in his silver eyes. He didn't look away from my eyes as I told him, ‘Stay with Volker.'

‘Tabitha,' Felix pleaded, his hands gripping mine. ‘Don't go.'

‘A goddess will not wait,' Angel said, causing Felix to grip my wrists harder.

‘Tabs,' Felix said. A whine caught in his throat. ‘Please.'

‘I have to know her,' I whispered to him, peeking at the portal for a moment. When I looked back his face was crestfallen. ‘It's just for a few minutes, okay?'

I tugged my hand away from his and he let it slip through. I turned to the portal. Volker extended a hand and led me over to the sizzling pentagon. Angel's eyes were dangerously blue and she bowed to me as I took my spot at the portal entrance. A shiver rippled along my limbs. The portal trembled with movement and the sound of air escaping hissed through it. For a moment I faltered. Should I turn back? But I shook the feeling away and did what I knew was best.

I clambered through the portal, dropping right down to the rich earth. Grass sprouted between my fingertips and birds chirped in the tree branches above. I gasped at the change in oxygen levels, the air much thinner than in Angel's chambers. I absorbed the bustling wilderness, the stunning greenery and shades of orange bathing the skies. Cyra was here and my body could sense the change in the world.

I heard a small whine from behind me, and looking back, I saw the portal begin to shrink, reflecting a black surface to me as it did. I screamed and lurched towards it but it snapped closed like a rubber band as sizzling green sparks hit the air. Behind it was nothing but the edge of a mountain, a small puff of white smoke ascending from a village nestled below. I realised the portal was gone and I didn't know how to make another one.

‘No,' I cried out. ‘Please, no!'

My hands scrambled at the dirt, pushing and clawing at it, trying to find some way to pull back the portal. But all that was left was a blackened patch of grass where the sparks of the portal had once flared. I collapsed onto the ground, the dirt staining my clothing. The thin air was making me cough. I heard the sound of water flowing and I followed the noise until I found a stream nearby where I washed the dirt from my hands.

The sun was setting and warm yellows and fiery oranges bathed the forest. How could they have left me here on my own? Was it a trick? These thoughts would not leave me alone and I buried my head in my hands, crying softly.

‘Who dares enter these woods?'

I raised my head. Everything was blurry from my tears. I heard rustling behind me. Scrambling to my feet, I wiped my eyes and brushed the worst of the dirt off my shirt. Night was beginning to seep through the rays of the afternoon sunset that danced through the foliage. I focused on the direction from which I'd heard the bushes moving.

She stepped through a small clearing, her hair shining in a hue of heavenly white. The woman who had given me life.

It was hard to look at her, hard to focus on her, as her form buzzed slightly. Tears sprang to my eyes again as I gazed at her emerald-green eyes, her expressionless pink mouth, her upturned nose and maple-coloured skin.

We had the same shaped eyes and our noses were similar, except hers looked like it had been broken once as it had a slight curve in the bridge. She had hair that flowed to her middle back, but it was sleek and smooth, whereas mine curled with ferocity. Woven in her silver hair were blossoming flowers, the petite buds tucked into the strands. We were the same height, but her legs were elongated and her torso was more petite than my own.

My thoughts were cloudy as she stepped forward holding a spear carved from old, solid wood and decorated in ancient paints with etchings marked over its handle. A handmade hatchet was slung low on her waist and she wore a dress the colour of brown cowhide. Metal cuffs encircled her wrists, ankles and throat. Tattoos were inked around her body in Celtic script.

She broke the silent staring first. ‘I asked you a question,' she said. ‘Who are you to enter my forest?'

My mouth went dry and it was as though I had forgotten how to talk. ‘I-I am-I'm your …'

‘Yes?'

‘You're my … I mean, of course, you are my… Do you know you're my…'

She sighed with displeasure, eyes scanning my clothes. Then Cyra dug the spear deep into the earth and pointed behind me. ‘There is a trail two miles that way. Follow it. It leads to the village below the mountain, where you will find shelter.'

‘But I …'

‘Are lost. And I point you to the direction you require.' With that, she pulled the spear from the earth and swung it around, looping it over her back. She looked me up and down. ‘See to it that you bathe upon return? Your Fae stench is overpowering.'

‘I am not just a faerie,' I managed to squeak out.

Cyra paused. ‘Funny. I can smell it on you.'

‘I'm not lying,' I told her, my voice trembling just as my hands did. ‘I'm a youngblood. And you know who I am but you wouldn't recognise me because it's been so long and my glamour is gone.'

Cyra cocked her head. ‘I don't understand. Who brought you here?'

‘Volker created the portal,' I said, my eyelashes damp with tears.

‘Volker?' Her eyes flashed with interest. ‘The warlock?'

‘The very same,' I said. ‘He wanted me to know the Goddess Cyra.'

She halted, her eyes bewitching me as they glowed a ghostly white. ‘What did you call me?'

‘Cyra.'

‘Nobody knows that name.' She frowned and raised her voice in anger. ‘Why would Volker tell you that name?'

‘Because he wanted me to find my mother,' I whispered.

Cyra's eyes widened slightly. Raw emotion crossed her face. ‘But you cannot be. Not her.'

‘Yes, I am.' My throat was tight. I took a deep breath before saying, ‘You are my mother.'

Cyra circled me slowly as though I was prey. Her voice echoed loud in the clearing. ‘You are her?' At my simple nod, Cyra continued, ‘What do they call you?'

‘What did you call me?'

‘I named you Tabitha.'

‘I'm still Tabitha. Angie kept my name.'

‘You look funny,' she remarked, turning her chin up. ‘I do not recognise much of my kin in you.'

‘Oh.'

Her rosewater mouth soured a little.‘I suppose that is my blame to bear. You cannot be faulted for what was decided on behalf of another. I shoulder that guilt.'

‘Don't feel guilty,' I said, drawing closer. ‘I don't want you to.'

Her eyes wandered over me.‘But you are small, like me.'

‘I know.'

‘The hair,' she muttered, more to herself. ‘I should have realised.' Before I could say anything, Cyra continued. ‘Your hair is not really purple, Tabitha. I cast a spell so that if your glamour was removed, I could find you.'

‘How come you didn't find me?'

‘That pesky warlock you call a friend. Volker barred me from seeing you.' Her tone made the woods fall silent. ‘I used to be able to see you clearly up until a few months ago. Then I could not trace you, could not see you. It was a curse. It has been many moons since I saw you last and you were almost too mortal to recognise last time. When I saw you step from the portal without the glamour, I did not recognise you.'

‘Why would Volker stop you from seeing me?'

‘Protection,' she said and shrugged. ‘The warlocks of the Fabled are fickle.'

‘What does my true hair look like?'

‘I can remove the spell, if you'd like.'

‘Please.'

She waved a hand through the air and it felt like my hair colour melted right off. My scalp burned. When I looked at the ends, they were almost the same colour as hers. I was a little astonished to find my natural hair was white. ‘You see now, why there was a glamour?'

‘And you chose the most inconspicuous colour,' I said, laughing lightly. ‘Purple, really?'

Her eyes softened with a memory, her mouth parting. ‘It was your father's favourite colour. I thought it fitting.'

‘My father?'

Cyra's face was curious. ‘Did Volker not mention him?'

‘He hardly knew anything about Finnian.'

She shrugged. ‘Finnian.' Her words were like a sigh. ‘He is like you, a youngblood. Part child of death, part mundane. You get your blood-thirst and wisdom from him. I gave you the fire that you feel melt your bones.' Cyra paused before continuing her story. ‘Your father is not who you would want as a father. Nor am I the type of mother you need. Neither of us could have raised you in our worlds. We were too different … and still are. He lives in the world of the unknown and is part of the history books. When we met, he boasted about how he taught gladiators to fight in Ancient Rome. Or, back then, it was just Rome.'

She looked at the sky, her expression inscrutable, then gazed back at me, changing the subject. ‘How did you find me, Tabitha?'

I chose to ignore her lack of desire to tell me more about my background, and instead, focused on what she would willingly tell me. ‘Volker and Angel created a portal to you. They helped me find you.'

‘You trust the warlock? Even when he glamoured you?'

‘You had me glamoured,' I said but my tone didn't match my words.

‘I did. I remember the day clearly, although others have faded from memory. You were such a sweet little thing,' she said, almost talking to herself. ‘It took all my willpower to give you away.'

‘Why did you?'

‘I can't answer that.'

‘Why?' I heard my voice crack. ‘What did I do wrong?'

‘You were a baby. You remember none of this pain you think you feel.'

‘I feel it now. You are my mother.'

Her face was devoid of emotion.‘I am. But I am unsure if that is the best thing for you.'

Quickly, I asked,‘How can it be a bad thing?'

‘You are safe with Angie.' A glimmer of pain showed in her shadowless eyes as she said the name. ‘She is better for you than I can ever be. I am unlike other Fae you have met, youngblood. You get your father's kindness and my temper. And both are a hard thing to manage.'

‘Did you even want me?'

‘Without a doubt.' Cyra looked away, digging her spear into the earth once more, gazing behind me into the setting sun. Her shadow was almost black. ‘But I was not expecting a child. Not nineteen years ago. Not ever. You were unannounced like a sudden thunderstorm. Your father – he bore little interest in parenting and I had much to do for my home.' She gestured around her. ‘This is where I belong. I could give you none of the things a mundane upbringing would.'

‘And my father? He couldn't raise me?'

‘Like I said, he had little interest. Was too busy running his circle.'

‘What does that mean? His circle.'

Her eyes were shadowed. ‘Follow me. We have a lot to discuss.'