“Everybody has a past, but not everyone has it come back to torment them 600 years later.”
Entwined by vows, magic, and love three lives end in distrust, bitterness, and anger. On dying breath a spell is cast to bring the three back to settle differences, rekindle the power of friendship, and mend a broken heart.
The spell worked.
Six hundred years later, they are finally reunited. Can the trio work together to remember and bury the past and change what was, to what might be? Or will they allow the pain of the past to dictate their futures?
They must hurry as the spell didn’t just bring them back it also brought back their executioner. He knows they are alive and he means to see them dead…again.
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THEY CAME AT DAWN. In minutes everything that was – was not.
Fire engulfs my hut. The flames sizzle and hiss, exposing me to its fiery heat. I escape, but not before my skin is ravaged. The pain is intense, as is my need for revenge. The bastard, Camalus, has taken everything I love. With my dying breaths I will see that retribution is made. I am the last of the realm witches. We three must come back. It must be done.
With labored breath I look towards the moon hanging low on the eastern horizon. A strength fills my inner being. My voice is harsh and raspy as I call out.
“My mother, hear your daughter Arianwen’s plea.
Take my soul; find the two
~ Sulien and Tarrant ~
once again, make us three.
Let us all come once more.
To right the wrongs
I beseech you, open the portal door.
To Land, Sea and Skye, hear my cry.
As above so below, with my blood sacrifice make it so.
Arianrhod, my mother, my goddess, as one make us three.
I cast my lot, so mote it be.”
I choke, sputter, I am drowning. I can no longer see my beautiful moon. It’s gone. The glow of a new morning is chasing the night shadows away. Oh, how I hope my goddess will grant my request. To see Sulien and Tarrant once more…my heart beats faster as I see them in my mind’s eye, smiling and laughing. Forever etched into my memory. I will be with them again, someday.
A rustling sound catches my attention. I turn to my weathered, old friends. The trees whisper to one another. I look upon them as a shaft of morning light roves its way through their branches and caresses my face. I blink. The trees shake and leaves begin to fall. A hot salty tear stings my cheek. They cry for me, and I, for them. I wheeze then cough.
With my last breath I look to the striating beams of light above, and see her there with outstretched arms. “Mother. Take me home.”
Not to be reprinted, photocopied, or redistributed in any form without express consent from the author: S.A. Hussey.