Page 36 of Up from the Earth

“I am not a child.Thatis what I see.”

Again with that chuckle, she spoke up, still sounding lightyears away. “I suppose not. Not after everything that has happened in the World of Below, nor what has transpired in my hut. So then, Mother of Cerberus, what do you see past yourself?”

As I peered into the water, hazy images floated up from the depths. They formed shapes, coalescing into figures that I could recognize as readily as my own face.

“My mother. My sisters. The coven.”

“Hmm, indeed.” The sound of her craggy voice pricked closer, echoing off some unseen walls. “They will die. They will all die, and they will do it before you.”

A heavy thump beat through my chest, my stomach clenching. I looked down at the images only to see them fade away into nothing. I squeezed my fists at my sides, the ache of losing them as real as if they’d truly vanished just now.

“That is the way of life, of the natural cycle. You cannot change it. You cannot step in. You cannot rescue them or change fate.”

“I don’t aim to, Crone,” I snapped, growing sorrow and fury swelling in my chest.

“And so what of Cerridwen, eh?” I saw her face then, in the reflection of the water that rippled as she appeared. “You will go on. You are no longer mortal. No longer are you bound to that path. Like me, you are set somewhere else in time, and the work will never end for you.”

A tear dripped down my cheek, landing in the still picture of my face created by water and light. I swallowed hard, having to steady myself as I felt my body rock, careening ever so slightly toward the pond.

“Will you, I wonder, be able to handle that? You have not been granted an easy fate, Wife of The Beast King—a hard lesson for any, but particularly a former mortal to learn. There are things you cannot change—ever. The King, too, might die, perishing in some great battle or a simple attempt to rend their rule from them. Cerberus to follow? Yes, quite likely. You will be alone at the end of all things, the weight of a crown perched on your head.”

I tried to spin around and face her, but I was locked in place. Instead, I glared at the reflection, swiping away the stream of tears that would not stop.

“Why do you say this?”

“The realm calls for a Queen, Cerridwen. I demand that it have a worthy one.” Death played out over the water as The Crone spoke, depicting the torturous ends of those I held closest. “A Queen’s path is never an easy one. To lead and go on, to respect the cycle, or to toy with the fates of mortals as you see fit. You have within you the power to be both terrible and great. And you have within you the call to fall into darkness and never return. So…”

Suddenly, I realized that I was on my knees, my hand outstretched over the water and reaching for it. I was grasping for my family, for the people I wouldn’t see harmed as long as I lived. Earth crumbled beneath my right leg, and I had to catch myself on my formerly grasping hand or fall in.

Breathing ached with each gulp of air, every heartbeat a horrible stab that ricocheted through my entire being. Loneliness and the never-ending expanse of the universe before me were a more terrifying notion than being torn limb from limb. The idea of existing alone until the end of time was a truer version of hell than any I’d seen so far.

And there they were in the reflection—my mother, my sisters, my coven. There they were, smiling at me from a dim, hollow rendition of who they really were. But there was something else as well.

Something…warm.

Mother’s smile was not merely a facsimile of all the ones she’d worn. I knew it. This was her grin that she saved only for me. The one she wore when we played, when we cast, when we explored. That smile, that one right there, was a gift meant only for me, and I could keep it.

Memories of our wild excursions, of our times, crafting brews and fumbling through the steps necessary to bake bread. I could see them, hold them in my mind’s eye, and they felt…real.

Sunlight shone on my skin, invisible, ethereal, but there. I could see my sisters, Agatha and Bridget. I could feel our laughter ringing through my bones, setting them alight like a tuning fork. They were all there within me, the imprints of their existence indelible on my soul.

And it was all so warm, warmer than I’d been since we left the forest at the edge of the castle.

“Stop!” I called out, yanking myself back from nearly pitching myself into the water and spinning around. “I will go on. I can. They will be carried with me for each step of my journey, no matter how long it may be. That connection is mine, and no one will take it from me.”

I stepped forward toward The Crone, who stood behind me, her red-pupiled eyes searing.

“Not even you.”

She cocked her head, staring at me. As she did, I pulled from that well of heat I’d contained for the iron, but instead of work, I only called it for light, for growth. Fresh ferns and thick, verdant moss crept up from the ground at my feet. White snowdrops, more delicate and persistent than any other early spring bloom, rushed into being. Bleeding hearts wove around my arms, snapdragons burst into life, shooting up through the ground in an array of colors.

“The return of spring after winter is assured. It is constant and endless. There is pain in this life, much of it. But there are roots that spread down into the warmth of an earthly embrace. There are cloudless skies and sunny days. There are lives. And the souls that exist are never truly gone. Only…changed.”

I smiled, the thrum of my heartbeat in my chest a welcome reminder of the cycle.

The Crone stepped up to me, a crooked grin splitting her face. She looked softer, the angles of her sharp, dark being rounded down, if only a hair.

“Rise out of the darkness, Queen of Earthly Balance. You have seen the three stages of life—maidenhood, motherhood, and the wisdom of the crone.” The baba ega’s expression darkened, her sneer returning. “That bastard is looking to challenge the throne, and I won’t havehimas my neighbor.”

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