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“The sacrifice the Cailleach demanded,” Môd said. “Now, take your place there,” Môd told me, pointing north. “We must have you in this rite, as the Cailleach decrees, for you are queen, mother, and shield of the Brigantes. Corva, see to her. We will begin now.”

“Cartimandua,” Corva said, gesturing for me to accompany her.

“I don’t understand what is happening,” I replied, frustrated by Môd’s vagaries.

Corva paused and frowned. “Môd is priestess, butyouare queen. Do not forget,” she told me, then led me to a place before the tallest of the five stones in the circle.

The priestesses stood in a semi-circle around the opening of the stones, Môd waiting at the center.

Once everyone was in place, one of the women lifted a carnyx and blew, sanctifying the place with the sound. She blew the instrument three times, and then another of the priestesses began to beat a drum.

Môd raised her arms to the sky. “May all you ancient things listen to my voice. Winds of the north, I call you now! Mountains to the east, I call you now. Waters to the west, I call you now. Fire! Fires in the south, I summon you to attend us!”

The carnyx sounded once more, and a stiff wind blew across the field, making the torches flicker.

“Cailleach, lady of winter,” Môd called in a deep voice as the drum thudded in the background. “Cailleach, deep in the hollow hills, you sleep. Deep in darkness, you sleep. Wake! Wake! Wake! The eagle is soaring! Wake!”

“Wake,” the priestesses called.

“Wake!” Môd called again.

“Wake,” the women chanted once more.

“Wake!” Môd called sternly, then turned to me.

The priestesses were silent.

Môd gestured for me to speak.

“Wake, Cailleach. I, Cartimandua, Queen of Brigantes, beg your favor. Wake, mother of the hollow hills. Wake and hear our plea. The day you warned of has come to pass.”

With that, a stiff breeze blew once more, and I heard the sound like a moan on it. To my surprise, the wind whipped hard, and on it, I saw a whirlwind of snowflakes.

“Ancient Cailleach,” Môd called. “Flex your fingers and summon your magic. Far to the south, the eagle flies as thelords of this land sleep. We bid you rise this night to protect our ancient oaks, stones, mountains, and dark places! We summon you amongst us!”

“Smoke…smoke before the fire…”a voice whispered from a torrent of snow that formed at the center of the circle, whirling like a living thing.

“We must extinguish the flame, Dark Mother. We must call upon your great magic in this time of need. Let the old magic within the hollow hills rise and use it like an arrow against our enemies! To appease you, we offer you the greatest of sacrifices given freely by those who come,” Môd said, then turned and gestured behind me.

I turned to see a priestess leading two young women—no, not women, girls—forward. Dressed in flowing white gowns, flowers on their head, the young women entered the circle. One girl had very long black hair. The other was fair; her locks were so blonde that they looked white. Their feet were bare. The priestess led them to the center of the circle, where snowflakes still swirled. The girls gave one another a long look. I could see from their eyes that they were dazed. A heady brew had made their minds light. The blonde-haired girl squeezed the other's hand, just a quick gesture of reassurance, and then they knelt on the ground, back to back. Before them were small stones that looked like those of the Cailleach’s claws in miniature. The small spurs, no more than hip-high, protruded from the ground. The girls placed their hands on the stones before them.

How young they were, how innocent.

Môd walked toward them, pulling a long, silver sword from her belt.

“Cailleach!” she called. “Tonight, your untouched daughters, echoes of Brigantia and yourself in the mortal realm, come to this sacred place as sacrifice,” Môd called.

Realization washed over me. My eyes widened.

Môd would sacrifice those girls, would take their lives, to perform her rite.

“…as daughters of our sacred order, they freely offer their lives in exchange…”

My body trembled as I looked at the brave girls. There was no fear on their faces, yet they were so young. They had not lived. It was not right. They were Brigantes women. They were women of my tribe. They were my people. And I was their queen. Above all, I had sworn to protect the Brigantes. Is that not who these girls were? Brigantes?

The blonde-haired girl looked briefly at me as if wanting to see me once before…

“…tonight, we make this gift of blood?—”