I’m floating in an in-between realm where it is both light and dark, cold and hot, soft and hard. I see myself in the greenhouse. Tallulah, Agnes, and Elora still gathered around. I open my mouth to scream but all that filters out is more and more of that bright light.
As quick as it arrived, the light snuffs out. Snapping my mouth shut, I drop the Stones onto the table while taking several gulps of much needed air. The women around me begin to chatter but their words are lost on me. Nothing but buzzing and wind flows between my ears. My vision blurs, and when I begin to stand, I’m met with weak knees.
“Sit, Sam,” Elora says. “Give it a minute.”
I’ve waited over thirty years for this moment. Thirty years for this magick that’s been clawing at my skin since I was born, and when it doesn’t show itself right away, every doubtful thought I’ve had comes crashing into me. That I have waited too long for my Ceremony. That I have been deemed unworthy of magick.
I want to cry.
Scream.
Be angry.
But before I can do any of those things, Ifeelit.
Like a warm breeze, tickling along my skin in the Summer, it flows through my hands, down to my feet. My mouth drops open as I flex my fingers, tears wetting my cheeks.
“Sam,” Tallulah says. She kneels beside me and takes my hand into her own. “Are you all right?”
I glance up at my mother, who wears the same etch of worry between her brows as Tallulah. “I don’t feel any different.”
“It takes time,” Tallulah says as she stands. She squeezes my shoulders and it’s only when she steps out of the way do I notice something moving out of the corner of my eye.
At first, I question myself. But as I stare at the space for a moment longer, a figure steps into view and there isn’t any doubt at who is staring back at me.
He isn’t as he once was. His eyes are not as bright. His dark hair more muted and dull. But as he smiles at me, I’mcertainand it’s the strength of my certainty that makes my voice break.
“Father?” I stand and push past the three very confused women around me. “Father,” I say, this time not a question. The figure nods and waves me over. My cheeks are cold from my earlier tears and they sting as fresh, hot tears begin to fall. I reach the figure that appears to be my father and a whirlwind of emotions hits me all at once.
Joy and relief and grief and fear.
Reaching my hand out, I attempt to grasp his, but it goes right through him and lands in a rose bush on the other side. His body shakes, his grin splitting.
He’s laughing.
My smile broadens as well, and when he places his fist to his chest and bows, I choke on a sob. My throat constricts, and as much as I want to ask the million questions running through my mind, I’m unable. As I bring my hands to my mouth, my palms sting. That itching, fiery sensation erupting over every surface.
Magick.
Taking a steadying breath, I focus on the apparition of my father before me, ignoring Agnes, Elora, and Tallulah who have now joined my sides.
I hold out my palms and flick my wrists upward and there it is. My vision wanes but only for a moment before the figure before me sharpens. His face, no longer muddied. His smile is radiant, splitting across his aged but handsome face. My fingers tremble with the weight of my magick, but my heart thumps with adrenaline.
The bridge between the living world and the next lies within my grasp.
“How is it that I can see you?”
I steady my hands in the air as my father smiles again, his round cheeks amplified. He reaches out and brushes his knuckles softly against my cheek.
“Because you, Sammy, are a Spiritwalker.”
Magick thrums in my chest at his words, a deep pulsing rhythm that is so new and yet, it brings me so much comfort. This missing piece, just as Tallulah said, finally finding its place within me.
“I don’t have much time, Sammy, the veil is thin for us without magick in our veins. I’ve waited so long for this. So long to speak with you one last time.”His face flickers, as if he’s made of dust and wind and my heart races.
“Don’t go yet, please. Stay.”I reach my hand out again, and his fingers thread around mine. So real and tangible. So firm and steady.
This is dangerous, I think. How easily I could lose myself in this moment. This magick that allows my father to be here. To hold my hand and wipe my tears.
