She strolled through the silver, nacreous mist, parting the invisible curtain with her alabaster hands. Her wand, which was gifted from a fallen branch from the great ash wishing tree one May Eve, illuminated the smokey blue fog as she uttered an incantation. She could just barely glimpse a hooded form on the other side. As she stepped through the portal the hooded figure began to take shape as that of the High Priestess—her hearth sister Vivianne. Her sister revealed the crescent moon tattoo on the palm of her hand. She mirrored the High Priestess’s movement in a token of sisterhood and trust before stating the purpose of her clandestine movements on such a momentous occasion—for the Fae Queen had given birth to a daughter that very night. She revealed the Druid trusted her with a powerful secret, marking her as The Keeper of the Prophecy. Her vision must be stored in the Well of Stories without delay.
Two years later...
Marcella sat in the garden watching Clementine form delicate pastries out of mud and twigs. At only two years of age, Clementine was amazingly deft with her minuscule hands. The harsh winter had receded into a distant memory as the snowdrops and daffodils bravely sprung forth from the still cold ground. Although it was a sunny day, Marcella was grateful for her flask of tea and wooly pullover to keep her warm. Clementine seemed impervious to cold, stripping naked to splash in the pond if Marcella dared to turn her back for even a moment. She was grateful her daughter was too busy making mud pies to worry about the discomfort of wearing clothing like a normal human being. But then again, Clementine wasn’t an ordinary human or Marcella’s birth daughter. Not that anyone could tell. She seemed like a perfectly normal child and yet Marcella was well aware of the gaze of strangers as they puzzled over why a typical toddler seemed so extraordinary. The moment always came, sometimes in a matter of minutes, at other times after contact with an individual for weeks when Marcella could feel the person’s energy change. She doubted whether they were aware of their energetic response to a Fae child, rather it was an unconscious awareness of the child’s innate magical abilities. Marcella knew that if she didn’t start working with Clementine soon, her magic would manifest in sudden, perhaps even explosive ways. “I’m just not ready yet,” thought Marcella. She just wanted to enjoy these early days of motherhood that were so precious. Marcella had blossomed into her role as Fairy Godmother and felt she had an important purpose to her life now.
Dodie’s whiskers twitched as she gazed up at Marcella as if she had read her mind and was most sympathetic. Jane just yawned and tucked her paw under the blanket which covered Marcella’s lap. Dodie was Marcella’s familiar, a once wild rabbit who was quite tame now. Jane was a cat that Dodie adopted after she’d been abandoned in The New Forest as a kitten. Marcella had discovered Jane after she stopped a dog from chasing Dodie. She made an instant decision to adopt the kitten, but Dodie wouldn’t allow her to take Jane away from her, so she brought both of them home. They’d been her constant companions ever since and the two of them were inseparable.
“I know Dodie,” said Marcella, “it is time though.” Clementine was still knee deep in the mud, her pink dress with the vine pattern splattered with brown stains. Her golden hair a fuzz of tangled curls. It was a curious shade of shiny yellow-orange. Marcella suspected strangers assumed she dyed her child’s hair. Strangers assumed a lot about Marcella and Clementine and Marcella never thought to correct them. Clementine was quietly singing to herself. Marcella recognized a traditional Fae tune, but didn’t remember teaching it to Clem. She sighed and pulled her mobile phone out of her bag. She sent a quick text to her hearth sister, Vivianne. The message simply read, “It’s time.” Vivianne would know just what she meant.
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