Page 24 of Summer of Sacrifice

“Ah, yes. There is something very maternal about this. A deep, selfless love.” Arielle’s head cocked to one side suddenly. “A misunderstood love.”

Seleste watched Aggie begin to blink rapidly as Winnie sniffed and looked at the ceiling. Sorscha crossed her arms, a hip swaying against the table to lean there. “Are you some kind of oracle or something?”

“No.” Arielle straightened, her head turning briefly in Seleste’s direction. “I’m no oracle. I just sense things sometimes. Grimm says I’m a Death Seer, but I sense more than just those that have died. I can sometimes sense strong things they left behind—emotions, moments. Those things are often left behind in the ether, but Seleste and I just discovered in the catacombs that I can sense it in objects sometimes as well.”

Seleste moved to place a hand on Arielle’s shoulder gently. “What else can you sense here, Arielle?”

“Each journal is unique and very much like each of you, but there is something more to it. As if your mother wanted to capture your differences and how they relate to…” She trailed off, chewing on her bottom lip. “It almost feels like a collective group, maybe. A whole but…split into parts. That’s the best way I can describe it.”

Winnie’s eyes locked with Seleste’s. “The Order.”

“Yes!” Arielle exclaimed. “That could be it. But it’s divided.”

“The four factions,” Aggie confirmed what they were all thinking. “Can you tell more about the factions?”

Arielle shook her head, her pretty face turned down in a small frown. “Not really. There is much more, but it’s all a vague idea. Wendolyn, your journal has an essence of what I can only describe as Elven magic.”

The four Sisters exchanged looks. The Druids.

“Seleste, yours is wholly mortal, the vague idea I can sense, that is. A feel of protection over mortals.”

“Remarkable,” Seleste whispered as Arielle squeezed her eyes shut in thought.

“Sorscha, yours is harder to decipher. It feels wounded. Almost like it’s…wounded witches? No, not quite witches…”

“Mages.” Sorscha’s voice was hardly above a whisper.

“Yes, that could be it!” She moved to the Autumnal journal. “And Agatha, yours is undoubtedly witches and warlocks.”

Agatha looked to each of her Sisters, one by one. “The exact groups we have each found ourselves protecting, joining, loving.”

“The Four Factions of The Order,” Seleste breathed.

“This is riveting,” Winnie said, failing to mask how riveting she did actually find it, “but I do need to get back to the troupe. Is there anything else we need to know?”

Arielle pulled her hands back. “I feel there is more, but it’s not clear.”

Winnie nodded, stepping to give each of her Sisters a peck on either cheek. “I need to be going, then.”

“Before you do,” Aggie stopped her, “I need you to be present for that favour from Arielle.” The Sisters looked at her expectantly. “Chresedia syphoned a great deal of our magic when she attacked us at Winnie’s manor in the Winter,” she explained to Arielle. “Winnie is quite gifted in healing magic, but”—she looked between them—“I’m not certain we’re completely restored, considering we continuously have to use our magic. Grimm said you were instrumental in healing him?—”

“Say no more.” Arielle grinned. “I do not heal, as I have told that pig-headed husband of yours multiple times, but I can do what I call knit. I find the threads of health, in your case magic, and knit them together again, soothing them in the process.”

“Sounds excellent to me.” Sorscha laid herself out on the table. “What now?”

“None of your dramatics,” Winnie sighed. “That’s for certain.”

“Actually, lying down might help,” Arielle said.

They each took turns lying flat next to their mother’s journals as Arielle set a hand on their abdomen in much the same way Winnie had to heal them. When it was Seleste’s turn, she was pleasantly surprised to feel the warmth of her magic knitting back together, restored.

Arielle turned perplexed as Aggie lay there, the last of them to do so. “I’ve never sensed anything like your magic… These must be the pieces that you carry of Lady Magic. This—this is incredible. Toward the bottom of your well, there is almost a—a kernel. It matches your magic and all other magic I’ve sensed to some degree, but it’s different. Other. More powerful and…aboriginal. That’s the best way I can say it. It feels aboriginal.”

“Primordial,” Winnie said softly, and Seleste inwardly agreed.

When Arielle’s hands left Aggie’s abdomen, she sat up, a bit dazed and pale. “Thank you,” she mumbled, mind ages away.

They said their goodbyes, claiming to meet again for supper before leaving on their separate missions. Before Arielle could leave, Seleste called her back. “Do you do this for the mages here in the healing abbey?”

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