A Legacy of Magic

------Christian closed his eyes and sucked in. He greeted the beast inside. The animal was tall, with long black fur and bright orange eyes. It was strong, fast, agile, and dependable. It never failed him. He was the only thing Christian could trust. 

We'll go hunting soon, he reassured himself.------

__________________________________________________________

Tiana opened her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. She listened carefully, but only heard Layla's soft breathing. She opened her eyes and scanned the room as her heart thumped heavily in her chest. Blood raced through her and sweat formed on her skin. She lay there listening for several minutes, then rolled over and found Layla's warm body laying next to her. The pit in her guts tightened, and she wanted to hurl.

She lifted the covers and quietly climbed out of the bed. The smooth wood floor eased into her senses, and she shivered with the coolness. Tiana walked slowly to the window and carefully looked outside. Her mind was racing through the dream and trying to process what was real and what wasn't. A click caught her ear, and she froze. Her ears nearly popped with the sound of her blood hitting the inside, and she turned around.

Nothing was there. She moved to the table and picked up the glass lantern. She lit the wick and adjusted the flame to be a soft glow, then made her way to the hall. The wood floor creaked, and she sucked in. The sound ripped off the silent night and etched in the front of her brain. She looked over the banister and examined the small front room and front area by the main door.

Shadows crept across the window, and she wanted to scream, but she bit her lip and eyed the bludgeon resting in the corner next to the door. Her mind made the needed maneuvers, and she hurried down the stairs. Her grip around the handhold made her fist hurt, but her nerves wouldn't have it any other way. A shadow stopped at the window, and she was certain she was going to panic. She set the light on the long table by the door and gripped the bludgeon with both hands.

The shadow moved away from the window, and she moved closer to the glass. Her brain instructed her hand to lift the lace curtain, but it wasn't listening. Her guts churned, and she needed to pee. She struggled with the instruction, but released the club and lifted the fabric.

There was nothing there. She moved closer still and peered into the distance. Tiana inspected the bushes and along the old stone fence but found nothing. She wasn't convinced, but she didn't know what else to do.

A cool breeze wafted across the floor, touching her feet first, then crawled up her legs under her cotton nightdress. She shivered and turned. A soft light emerged in the center of the hallway and her nerves about lost it. Her entire body trembled and the club wobbled in her grip.

"Don't be afraid my darling," the visitor said.

The recollection of her mothers voice hit her with passionate force and she nearly dropped the club.

"Mother?"

"Yes, my dear,"

"Are you alive?"

"No, I have come to introduce you to your destiny,"

"Which is what?"

"Put down the club, and follow me,"

Tiana set the club back in the corner and forced her feet to move. The apparition floated over the floor with a wafting mist that made for a delicate but mysterious allusion. The woman guided Tiana out of the back of the house and toward the forest. Tatina's instinct told her she needed to trust the woman, but her guts and everything else said she needed to run away as fast as possible.

The soft light the woman let off gave her the needed light to make her way through the woods. The moon was high and bright, which also added to the forest floor. She wasn't sure if she should speak or not, so she didn't. The woman stopped and Tiana stepped up next to her. She lifted her hand and touched an invisible wall and sent her misty light into the surface. Tiana watched as an ancient building emerged.

The structure was highly polished, with intricate lines and marks giving it an ethereal feel. Tiana gazed at the structure in awe. The woman held out her hand to Tiana, who reluctantly placed her hand in hers. The mist was cold, but soothing. Her fear that was ripping through her subsided, and she sighed.

The door faded away, and the woman guided her inside. The building revealed an impressive apothecary of herbs and ingredients. The aroma blasted Tiana's senses and her brain engaged in 'categorize it all' mode.

"Tiana, named after the ancient one of wisdom and fierceness, it is my honor to reveal unto you the wisdom that has been passed down through our lineage. A legacy of magic and strength. For you, my daughter, carry within you the spark of our ancient bloodline, a connection to the mystical realms that surrounds us."

Tiana's heart pounded again, but not from fear, but from truth.

"We are descendants of the Seiðr known today as a witch. This is a sacred gift, not a curse, but man does not understand. Therefore, I must caution you deeply. Today I will open your gift and you will forever be changed."

The woman lifted the silver pendant and twisted it between her long delicate fingers.

"I see you have already received your destiny,"

"What is my destiny?"

"To tame the wolf,"

"Wolf?"

Tiana's voice was infused with caution and intrigue.

"Long ago a man afflicted with a betrayed and broken heart was cursed to the life of the animal inside him. His curse tormented man for centuries as he attacked and murdered the innocent. Men hunted him, and still do. The Moon Goddess, however, has a plan for him and you are the instrument in her hands,"

The apparition released the pendant and set it back on her warmed skin.

"What will I have to do?"

"That will be made known to you as the time is right, for now, you must embrace your powers with humility and respect, for they hold the potential to shape the world around you. The gift of Seiðr can be both a force of creation and destruction."

Tiana's mother floated around the room with her hand out pointing to different jars and bottles. Trinkets and stones of all kinds, then turned to her.

"Our craft is not merely about spells and potions, but about the connection we have with nature and the unseen forces that govern our existence. Seek harmony in the elements, for they hold the secrets of balance and renewal. Listen to the whispers of the wind, the song of the stars, and the dance of the flames, for they will guide you in your journey."

She lifted a book and opened the pages.

"Never forget the importance of knowledge. Seek to expand your understanding of the arcane arts, for true power lies in wisdom and understanding. Read the ancient tomes, consult with the spirits of our ancestors, and learn from the experiences of those who came before us. Remember, my child, that knowledge is the key to unlocking the full potential of your abilities."

She returned the book and stepped close to Tiana. Her gaze was soft and endearing and Tiana wanted to stare into her eyes forever. Her heart ached for her and tears formed at the corner of her eyes. Her throat tightened, and she stifled the need to cry. The ghost looked between her eyes and Tiana found, for a split moment, her mother's true self sitting behind the misty shroud.

"My daughter, above all else, let love be your guiding light. In a world filled with darkness and strife, it is love that will carry you. Use your magic to heal, to bring solace to those in need, and to protect the innocent. Let compassion and empathy be the cornerstones of your craft, for they are the true measure of a witch's worth."

Tiana leaned into the woman's hand on her face and instead of being cold like the last time, it was warm and soothing. A tingle of energy radiated from her core and encompassed her frame. Soft hues of blue light wafted around her and danced with a ceremonial configuration, then sank into her form and disappeared. So did her mother and the building. 

**********************************

Christian rolled over and rubbed his eyes. He blinked through the sleep and stretched. His long frame didn't quite fit on the bed, and he yawned. There wasn't a need to get up, other than he had to pee. He lifted the covers and sat up, resting his feet on the cold stone. He shivered with its caress and stood. Christian made his way to the room with the stone chair with the hole in the center.

It wasn't as nice as the wood seat back at his long ago home, but it was better than nothing. A rush of memories surface and he wondered what had come of his family. His mother died when he was a youth, but his father and brother lived in the village near him. His father was a cruel man. One who lived with a bottle in his hand and a whip in the other. He couldn't get out of there fast enough. It would seem he hadn't escaped the tyranny of cruelty.

He turned his attention to the woman's voice in his head and let it soothe his soul again, for the umpteenth time. He smiled to himself and wondered who she was.

Who am I kidding? There is no way she, or anyone, would want to have anything to do with me. I'm a monster, a primal force I can't control. 

He finished and returned to his room. Christian dressed for the day, noting it was still cold outside, and made his way to the yard. He rounded the old stone pillar of what he guessed was an archway. To where he didn't know, but there was a lot to this castle that he didn't know. The early morning was brisk, leaving his breath to mist each time he exhaled. The sun peaked over the horizon but had yet to shine over the tall tree tops. That didn't stop the south wind, which brought a comforting whooshing through the dormant branches. He yanked the ax from the log and threw it over his shoulders.

He examined which tree he wanted to cut down and found an old dead one. Christian stepped over a log and under a branch, then rounded several trunks until he reached it. The musty odor of moss and wet dirt sank into his senses, and he took in a lungful. He lifted the ax and rounded it over his shoulders. With a heave, he thrust the blade into the middle. A crack echoed around the forest, scattering the birds in the treetops, and he heaved again. His mind wandered as he struck the dead wood.

It didn't take long before his mind got stuck on the woman in the woods. He didn't usually go that far from the castle, but the food sources had been scarce the last few moons. What he couldn't understand was the voice. She was beautiful, certainly, but the fact that he heard her in his head. How was it possible?

The log broke in half, and he set the ax down. Christian gripped the log with both arms and shoved with his legs. The log broke from its long-time grave, and he set it on the ground. He took the ax again and lifted it over his head. He released the blade with a full swing. The edge sank deep into the wood with a crack.

I will find you, he heard her voice again, and he looked up.

His chest heaved, and he examined the distance. Christian's blood pumped quickly, sending a shot of endorphins to his brain. His eyes widened and more light filtered through the surroundings, brightening it so he could make out more details.

He scanned the distance with diligence, but found nothing. He sucked in and shook his head, but took one more look.

Did I actually hear it again, or is my mind playing tricks on me, he thought.

He swatted the fly buzzing around his face with an irritated growl. A noise came from behind him and he turned his ear to listen. His mind internalized the sounds to be that of a small animal, probably a rabbit. He turned to check his assessment and his eyes confirmed it. He shook off the disturbance and returned to his chopping.

The smack of the ax hitting the wood ricocheted off the trees and echoed. The sound settled in his memories and the only thing missing was the crying out of his young self as his father whipped him. Anger rose from his center and raged around his heart. He lifted the ax and swung with such speed the head disappeared into the wood.

His father's face surfaced, and he wanted to rip him to shreds. He wanted to yell at him. Everything a child would want to yell at an abusive father. The sharp sting in his spine lurched and his body arched. His jaw tightened as his fangs lengthened. His tongue made room, and he wriggled his nose as his snout emerged.

No, you don't have to do this right now, he's long gone, there is nothing you can do about it now, calm down, he thought.

Christian closed his eyes and sucked in. He greeted the beast inside. The animal was tall, with long black fur and bright orange eyes. It was strong, fast, agile, and dependable. It never failed him. He was the only thing Christian could trust.

We'll go hunting soon, he reassured himself.

The beast agreed with a reverenced nod and returned to its den inside his heart. Christian let out his breath and his body returned to human form. The ax was still in his grip, and he stared at it. He examined the wood pile and noted he had made good progress. A cool breeze wafted across his dark hair, ruffling it around his eyes. He ran his hand through the locks to get them out of his face.

Heaviness overcame him, and he listened to the quietness. It was the heaviness of loneliness. It usually didn't bother him, as he preferred it this way. That way, he didn't hurt people that didn't deserve it. However, this time he felt the pains of being by himself and he shivered.

Get a grip, man, he thought.

He decided he was finished for the day and gathered a large pile into his arms. He carried the heavy bundle back to the castle and, with a flick of his wrist, sank the blade into a stump. Christian organized the logs with the other larger ones, then returned to the house. He stopped at the washroom and ran a wet cloth over his face and neck, and headed down the hall.

He made his way to the kitchen and fixed himself some food, then took the plate to the library, where he sat in his overstuffed leather chair. Christian had found reading was a way to not only pass the time, but to travel into the different times and places while being safe in his prison. There was a comfort to it, as it was a grand place to live. He picked up his book, the one about fantastic tales of the gods, and flipped to his marker.

The woman's voice came into mind again and he listened to the sound. It was soft, but powerful. Womanly with a touch of masculine force. Christian got to the end of the page and realized it was now too dark to see; he got up and lit the lantern on the side table. He returned to his book and found where he left off, but realized he had no idea what he read.

All he could think about was this woman. He closed the book and stood, walked to the window, and peered outside. The clouds that had hung over the atmosphere all winter sifted and swayed but left much of the starry night sky visible. He gazed into the heavens and waited for the moon to speak to him. It wasn't like he had anyone else to speak to him, and so far, the moon never said anything either. Maybe one day.

Images of his father returned, and he wondered why. He hadn't thought about him so much in years. Perhaps after he went to the village, he would travel to his home village and find out what came of his family. He never returned, not that he cared before, but there seemed to be something nagging at him to find out now. Christian yawned and shook off the tiredness, but his eyes faded, and he blinked. He figured it was time for bed and returned his plate to the kitchen.

It wasn't like he had to wash it, he could just get a clean one as there were hundreds of them, but he didn't need to be a slob, so he washed the dish and returned to his room. Christian pulled off his shirt and trousers and slipped under the covers. He put his hand behind his head and stared at the ceiling.

The ceiling was the underneath side of the main floor, as he had chosen to live in the basement. He wondered what, or if he could sleep in one of the rooms upstairs and decided he would try it tomorrow. Maybe the day after. He yawned again and closed his eyes. Blackness overcame his mind, and he drifted to sleep.

The night slipped away, and the sun crept through the small holes in the corner of the ceilings. One pegged Christian in the eye and he stirred. He rolled over to avoid the intruder, but his mind was now awake and processing. It was no use trying to sleep, so he got up and started the day. After fixing breakfast, he returned to the log and spent most of the day cutting the log into smaller sections, then hauling them back to the woodpile on the far side of the castle grounds.

His thoughts continued to swirl around between the woman and his father. By the end of the day, he was frustrated with how often his father came to mind. Even though the woman was beautiful, it also frustrated him that she kept coming to mind. As if there would be any chance he would even talk to her again, let alone have any kind of relationship with her.

Christian tried to stay focused on his duties, but by evening he gave up. He returned to the castle and organized a small traveling bag, grabbed a pouch full of coins, and hurried from the castle. He went to the shed with the carts. Christian didn't have a horse or any cattle, so he would have to pull it himself. Then he decided he didn't need that many supplies, anyway. He threw the pack over his shoulder and started from the courtyard.

His mind ran through everything he could think of on how to talk to people. How to ask for instructions, or purchase items. He even practiced speaking out loud. It was an interesting phenomenon. To hear the sound of his own voice. He knew what he sounded like in his head, but it had been so long since he'd uttered the sound it sounded weird.

The travel by foot would take three days, and he debated on transforming into the wolf, which would shorten the trip by at least a day and half. Then he reasoned he wasn't in a hurry anyway, so he decided to take the time.