Because of how I was raised.
The unspoken words hung between them, but there was no guilt or accusation. Just the truth.
It was something Trivia might never heal from. And something Gaia might never forgive herself for.
Gaia took Trivia’s hand in hers. “It is something to behold. You’ll see.”
They reached the town square where a circle of chanting witches stood hand-in-hand as they muttered the words of the spell. Already, the air was thick and potent with the presence of spirits. The veil was its thinnest at dusk. Once the sun fully set, the echoes of the ancestors would cross over to greet them.
Sybil inserted herself into the circle, grasping hands with her fellow witches and joining in the chanting. But Gaia and her daughters stood on the outskirts, not wanting to intrude.
This was a sacred ceremony, fueled by the magic of witches. With this much power between the four of them, Gaia feared it might alter the spell circle. She didn’t want to risk damaging the veil or the spirits.
“Do you feel it?” Gaia asked Trivia.
Trivia nodded, her wide eyes fixed on the witches. She looked so young. So innocent. In this moment, Gaia could envision her as a little girl experiencing this for the first time.
“What are they saying?” Trivia whispered in awe.
“The words translate to,Open. Receive our gift. Commune with us.”
“What gift have they offered?”
Gaia gestured to the altar resting in the middle of the witches where a slaughtered goat lay, its fresh blood gleaming on the stone.
Trivia shuddered. “Lovely.”
“It’s the way of the witches,” Gaia said with a shrug. “If ithadn’t been sacrificed, it would have been eaten with the meal.”
Trivia snorted at that.
Then, she suddenly froze. A keening wail pierced the air, echoing around the square. The townsfolk gasped as several other whispers and murmurs resonated from the witches’ spell.
Gaia loved this part for many reasons. For one, it was always awe-inspiring to see how the spirits communicated with them. For another, she loved watching the reactions of the villagers who possessed no magic. The people’s eyes were wide and full of wonder. Some were only children, clearly experiencing their first Samhain ritual.
“Prue,” murmured a voice.
Prudence went rigid and uttered a soft gasp.
Gaia looked around, searching for the source of the voice, but she couldn’t see anyone.
“I am always here with you, Prue,” said the voice.
Tears glistened in Prudence’s eyes, and she pressed a hand to her heart. “And I am always with you, Lagos.”
Gaia’s throat tightened. She had not known Lagos, but from what she had heard, he had been a fierce ally of Prudence’s from the beginning. And she would always think fondly of him for that.
A shimmering form appeared in front of them, this one taking the shape of a woman with long hair. “Your coven is beautiful,” the woman said, her voice deep and firm.
Pomona’s breath hitched, and she covered her mouth with her hand. “Farah?”
“Do not mourn me,” Farah said. “I have died a warrior’s death, and for that I will be honored.”
“And so she is,” Trivia said softly. “I have met her in Elysium. She has found peace.”
Pomona let out a shuddering sob, tears streaming down her face. All around the square, spirits were visiting their loved ones. There was not a dry eye in the space. Even the chanting witches were weeping from the power emanating around them.
“I am glad to see you so content, dear one,” said a voice in Gaia’s ear. Her eyes closed as she relished the sound of her old friend, Hestia.
“I am glad, too,” Gaia whispered.
She leaned her head on Pomona’s shoulder, then took Prudence and Trivia’s hands in hers. “This is true beauty right here,” she told her daughters. “To experience the purest form of witch magic guiding these spirits to us in a celestial reunion—alongside the people I love most in the world.” She caught Sybil’s eye from across the square. Sybil’s gaze seemed to burn into hers with the intensity of a raging inferno.
Gaia’s heart was full. And as her daughters expressed their agreement with her sentiment, she realized there was nothing more perfect than this.
Home.
Family.
And the thriving beauty of earth magic.
