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Chapter One

Ena walked through the woods, listening for signs.

She stepped lightly, letting her Knowing guide her.

Sunlight filtered through the dense oak and pine forest, and life teemed at every crunch of her boot along the leaf-covered ground.

She’d been walking for hours and butterflies filled her stomach with every minute that passed.

Dusk was approaching and she needed to return soon, but she hadn’t gotten what she’d come for yet.

Her worn brown-leather boots nearly blended in amongst the multicolored downed leaves. It was fall in the Turning, and the air was fresh from the recent rain. But Ena’s eyes were trained on the ground, waiting and scouring for what she needed.

There.

A small gray mouse scurried, gathering pieces of acorns. But the forest detritus also signaled another presence—the one she was looking for.

The psilosnake lay coiled tightly in wait beneath a half-rotted log, its goal evident in the still patience of its long, black body. She Knew its intent like she knew her own. The mouse’s whiskers twitched as it approached, mortally unaware of the signs.

The snake was fast as it struck, reaching to snatch the mouse in its powerful grasp—but Ena was faster.

Using her booted foot, she crunched through its hiding place and pinned the snake’s venomous head firmly to the forest floor. Then, unsheathing the knife from her hip, she bent down and quickly sliced its head from its body, watching reverently as blood oozed from the cut.

Leaving the snake’s lower half for the owl she Knew was dozing in the oak tree nearby, she picked up the bloody, severed head and wrapped it in a cloth before placing it in the wicker basket she carried.

Relief flooded her now that her task was finally complete, but it was short-lived, because as she turned to head back to her village, the nerves that had fluttered through her all day returned.

She knew it was normal to be nervous. Who wouldn’t be, knowing they would soon face the unknown?

She had never been fully exposed to Gaia before, and didn’t know what it would be like.

Would it hurt? Would she feel fear? All witches faced the Summoning ceremony on their twenty-seventh birthday and emerged with their newfound Gift from Gaia.

She shouldn’t fear what so many others had successfully completed.

And she shouldn’t fear her Goddess, whose magic surrounded her and whose will guided her.

But she felt unsettled, and she couldn’t help the pit of dread that filled her stomach.

As she reached the edge of the forest and the trees began to thin, her village came into view.

Homely stone houses with roughshod wooden shingles covered in a thick layer of green and brown moss dotted the woods.

They were so humble that they almost blended into the landscape of cedar, oak, and maple trees.

The single-story houses were all similar in appearance, with small, square windows and chimneys puffing out smoke from the hearth fires within.

Well-worn dirt pathways were carved through the ferns and grasses on the ground, and they led between the houses, weaving in and out of the fenced-in gardens and chicken coops that flanked each house.

A particularly large log barn, housing the horses and goats, stood at the far end of the gathering of houses.

Past that, one particularly well-beaten path veered south away from the village and towards the River Wry, where it dead-ended at the Sacred Grove.

Tonight at dusk, she would stand there amongst her Coven, nestled in the clearing that was surrounded by the oldest grove of trees this side of the Chasm Mountains, and give herself to Gaia.

Lately, the thought filled her with apprehension.

She’d once looked forward to the day she would become a full-fledged member of the Coven, and her true path to serving Gaia would be revealed.

Ena had worked hard her whole life studying the magic of Gaia, learning how and when to interpret her will.

She was endlessly improving her use of spellwords and memorizing potion ingredients.

She was ready. But somehow, now that the event was upon her, the idea of having her path finally decided for her, having no more unknowns in her life, left her with an overwhelming feeling of suffocation and panic.

She continued walking past the square to the far edge of the village, where the Coven matriarch lived.

Heran’s house was large, almost stately, in comparison to those of the other witches who lived clustered around her.

It was two stories tall, and was surrounded by a garden so large, it seemed to swallow the structure whole, as if the garden was growing a house and not the other way around.

Squash and pumpkin vines covered the ground, nestled around half-rotted corn and sunflower stalks.

Though they should have been long gone, the summer vegetable plants—tomatoes, peppers, and ground cherries—were still sporting some harvestable fruit, thanks to her sister Greya’s magic.

Ena walked up the front path which wove through the section of the garden growing every herb imaginable, and entered the arched front door.

Fergus, the small black cat, ran along her leg in greeting.

She read his signs and Knew he was happy to see her.

She walked through the cozy sitting room filled with overstuffed chairs and a saggy couch to the expansive kitchen that took up the entire back side of the house.

There, her sister Greya stood at the large wooden island grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle. The walls of the kitchen were filled with hanging pots, bunches of herbs, and shelves crammed with jars and sacks containing every ingredient and foodstuff known to this side of the Chasm Mountains.

Greya turned to look at her as she entered. “Did you get it?” she asked, looking hopefully at Ena.

“Of course. Did you think I wouldn’t?” Ena smirked, belying her inner turmoil.

“Thank Gaia. If anyone could do it, it’d be you, but you and I both know it’s difficult to find psilosnakes this close to Samhain.”

“Well, Gaia granted me, I guess.”

Greya tossed her pale-blonde braid over her shoulder before she reached for a pot bubbling over the fire in the enormous hearth.

Several other pots were also simmering within the fireplace, which was large enough for several people to stand in, and held multiple small blazes, but Greya was focused on scraping the contents of the mortar into the dark-red mixture that bubbled in the ceremonial iron cauldron.

“Are you nervous about the Summoning?” she asked. Her tone was almost too casual, as her brown eyes, so distinct from Ena’s bright-blue ones, remained focused on her work.

“A little,” Ena replied cautiously. She didn’t know why, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell Greya about the depths of her fears. She didn’t want to worry her.

“That’s normal, you know. I was as well. But don’t worry, Haren won’t let you descend.”

“I know,” she said. And she did. She trusted Heran, who had practically raised her and Greya after their parents died of a swift and all-consuming fever when Ena was just two years old.

The matriarch had conducted the Summoning of every witch in their Coven for the last twenty years and never once had a witch descended and been rejected by Gaia.

Heran was a force of nature, and Ena trusted her implicitly.

“I just worry I won’t like the Gift I’m given. It will determine my whole future…my path with the Coven.”

“Gaia would not give you the Gift if it wasn’t meant for you.

And as for your path, I have no doubt you’re meant for something great.

You’re one of the most talented witches in the Coven.

You know almost as many spellwords and potions as Heran.

I know Gaia has a special purpose for you.

” Greya spoke with the utmost confidence, as if she’d spoken with Gaia herself on the matter.

“You think?” Ena replied, unsurely.

“I know .”

Ena was comforted by her sister’s wisdom.

Only three years her senior, Greya had always seemed in control and assured of her place.

She was on track to become matriarch herself one day, thanks to her Gift and the ease with which others looked to her for guidance.

Three years ago during her own Summoning, she had been Gifted vita , a magic that allowed her to force a living thing through the phases of life.

She could take a flower bud, force it to bloom, then make it wither and die in the span of seconds.

It was a rare, special Gift, which, along with the respect she garnered from the rest of the Coven, made her path with the Coven one of leadership.

But beyond Ena’s concerns about her own path, she was also nervous about the ceremony itself.

Although she had attended several Summonings for other witches, including her sister’s, she did not know what would happen when she met Gaia, and that unknown weighed on her.

Even the witches who went through it only came out with fuzzy memories of the event.

What if it was horribly painful and she was given a Gift that required her to milk goats all day, like her friend Thyla?

Thyla didn’t seem to mind using her glacio to chill the milk, but Ena would go crazy if that was her path.

She didn’t know why, but she needed something…

different. She just didn’t know how to get it.

For the last several years, it was as if she’d been frozen in place. She didn’t even remember the last time she’d felt truly challenged and…alive.

A warm summer sunset illuminating a pair of striking green eyes flashed unbidden through her mind.

Okay, that was a lie. She did remember, even though she often tried to forget. And now that the Summoning approached, she dreaded the inertia of her path. What if she never felt that way again? What if she remained this stuck forever, and her Gift was the last thread sewing her firmly in place?

“You should go upstairs and get ready. I already filled the tub for you,” Greya said, breaking Ena out of her spiraling thoughts. “We’ve only got an hour before dusk. I’ll come get you when it’s time and we’ll walk to the Grove together, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, sis,” Ena replied, giving her a small smile.

Leaving her basket with the psilosnake head on the table, Ena left her sister to the rest of the preparations for the Summoning as she went to climb the creaky stairs to her bedroom. The sun was falling fast and she needed to prepare her body to meet her Goddess.

As she entered her small room containing only a bed, a side table, and an armoire with an old, tarnished mirror on the front, she untied her dark-green cloak and tossed it on her unkempt bed.

Quickly disrobing down to only her shift, she walked down the hall to the bathing room to find a steaming-hot bath awaiting her in a large copper tub.

Silently thanking her sister yet again, Ena took off her shift and sank into the water.

As was customary before a Summoning, the bath was filled with marjoram, cedar berries, and lemongrass—a potent combination meant to cleanse and purify her body in preparation for the sacred rite.

As she methodically scrubbed her body using a pumice stone, she tried to focus on each action as a way to quiet her mind.

These are my feet. This is my stomach. Now I’m rinsing my hair.

But she couldn’t stop the depressing, unbidden thought that soon, even though she would be different, everything would still remain the same.