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We stepped from dusty stone floors to plush red carpet in an instant, emerging in what must be the main hall of the Covenstead. The walls were paneled with deep, burgundy wood, and the sign of the Goddess was emblazoned on the wall in gold— two crescent moons flanking a full moon.

“The Goddess is testing me,” came a voice from around the corner. I looked at Vera, eyes wide, and motioned for her to move. She looked at me confused, and I pushed her around a corner and into an empty hallway.

“That’s my grandmother,” I whispered to her. Her eyes went wide in horror. Of course, her plan had gone immediately wrong.

We flattened ourselves against the wall of the hallway, trying to will ourselves into invisibility.

“The gossip, Circe,” came the voice of my grandmother again. “You have no idea how this looks to the rest of the Coven, keeping my granddaughter from me.”

“I don’t much care how this looks to the rest of the Coven,” I heard Mama reply, her voice harsher and colder than it usually was at home. If Mama was normally a warm, autumn evening, right now she was an icy winter morning.

“We must discuss Elara,” my grandmother said, in what I assumed must be her commanding Crone voice. “It’s high time she took her place at the Coven. She is the most talented witchling since you first came into your power.” Vera patted me in the shoulder.

“See?” she mouthed.

I hated agreeing with the woman Mama hated, but this time I kind of had to.

“There is nothing to discuss,” Mama said icily. “Elara is not yet grown, and I am her mother.”

“For another day,” my grandmother scoffed. “See how well keeping her in that hovel you call a cottage fares for you, daughter.”

“Anywhere is better than near you, mother,” Mama bit out. I heard their footsteps stop as my grandmother must have rounded on Mama.

“I need her power, Circe,” my grandmother said, almost pleading. “The Coven needs her. The Bloodwood will not fall without another powerful witch to help me. I cannot undo what has been done without her.”

“Enough, mother,” Mama said, her voice echoing slightly as she called on her power in her anger. “Elara is and will always be my daughter, not yours. I will not have her become part of your crusade.”

Their voices were trailing away, and I breathed out a sigh of relief that we had gone unnoticed.

“Phew,” Vera said, when the voices had died. “What was that about? What did the Crone mean about the Bloodwood falling and what has been done?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered back. “But we had better hurry.”

We emerged from our hiding spot and followed the direction that Mama and Grandmother’s voices had gone. There were a few witches still milling around outside the doors to the meeting, and Vera and I snuck into the back of the chamber behind a very ancient witch who was mostly blind and hard of hearing.

“This is it,” Vera hissed excitedly as I looked around the room. I had imagined this place to be a giant stone chamber, like a cave. It was similar, but instead of stone above us, the ceiling was completely open to the night sky. The full moon, symbol of the Mother, shone down upon us, and lit candles filled every open space, glowing warmly in the moonlight. There was a tapping at the center of the chamber as the meeting began.

In the name of the Lady of the Moon,

Blessed be this place, and this time,

and they who are now with us.

I wanted to be excited for the whole event, but in truth it was exceedingly dull. I wondered at myself for being so eager to attend and at Mama for not letting me. Several older witches, Coven mothers I guessed, droned on endlessly about Coven business and the blessings of the Goddess and the importance of vigilance against the demon scourge. I didn’t recognize any of these witches, and I had blessedly not seen Mama or Grandmother in the main chamber. I was practically dozing off against the wall when Vera was called up to perform the invocation.

I shrank down, covering my face with my cloak in case Mama saw me. Vera glided to the front, beaming at the other witches as she made her debut, placing the items of invocation in their correct places on the pentagram before her and saying the words, which she had finally memorized:

Maiden, grant me patience,

Mother, grant me life.

Crone, grant me wisdom,

And lead me in the light.

She glowed a faint gold, and I sighed with relief, hoping she remembered to close the spell. As if she could hear me nagging her, she added, “the spell is cast.”

“Welcome, Vera,” came a new, authoritative voice I recognized. My grandmother strode toward her, putting a firm hand on her shoulder and gesturing with her other to a place in front of the dais. “Take your place among your sisters. May the Triple Goddess bless you always.”