“When the High King placed a ban on magic and started wiping out the magic wielders, the lands suffered. The plants and animals withered and died. In his ignorance and arrogance,he refused to see the truth. He said we, the magic wielders, had angered the gods by tampering with the elements.”
“But that wasn’t true, was it?” Hazel wondered, setting her cup down.
“No, of course it wasn’t. The gods did not react untilafterthe land became unbalanced. The reason things are the way they are now, we don’t entirely know. Something is likely amiss on the Aetherial Plane. That is where Caelis is located, the high seat of the remaining gods. All but the Anemoi, the Wind gods, have forsaken us. The look on your face tells me you’ve heard none of this… hmm.”
Hazel tried to fix her face. “No, I haven’t. We don’t talk about the gods much at home. But… I just don’t understand. Why are the Four Winds the only gods who stayed for us?”
“Forus?” Agnes scoffed. “No, child. The Anemoi have never been the most benevolent gods. Where the others saw a lost cause, those scavenging harpies saw opportunity.” She started whispering her next words. “Don’t for one second think they have our best interests at heart. While they were always one of the four main sects of Elementals—the others being Earth, Fire, and Water—they were never a top priority for any people, save for the sailors and pirates, perhaps. Those few folk who relied on the Winds for guidance and a push in the right direction were barely enough to appease the greedy gods. Whereas the Earth gods, Fire gods, and Water gods especially, were at the forefront of most peoples’ minds each day. Not long before you were born, we prayed to them all.”
Hazel’s head was spinning. She brought her locket to her lips as the questions rolled through her. Why did no one talk about this? Why did people so willingly give up their way of life? “Agnes, this is so much to take in. Why wouldn’t Pa have told me about any of this?”
“Don’t fret about it. Believe it or not, Connall has good reason for doing most of the things he does, bullheaded as he may be. Maybe he just hasn’t felt that the time was right. Or maybe, since you live among other people, he’s worried someone would overhear any blasphemous talk.” She nodded to the teacup. “How was it?”
Scratching her eyebrow in thought, she looked down, not even realizing she’d drank it all. “It was just what I needed, Agnes. Thank you.”
“Still up for that reading?”
Hazel hesitated. No, she really wasn’t up for a reading. She had so many questions swirling and buzzing in her head, and the last thing she wanted was anything else to worry about. She didn’t even think she could go home to Connall and immediately volley him with questions.
Seeing her concern, Agnes withdrew. “It’s alright, dear. We can do it some other time. Or not at all, if you prefer.”
“No!” Hazel cut her off. “Sorry, that was rude. I just meant, well, I said I would do it, and I don’t have any good reason not to. So yes, please, let’s do the reading.” She smiled reassuringly.
Agnes nodded, reaching for the cup. The old woman withdrew into herself as she pulled the cup in, sparing Hazel a quick glance before closing her eyes and seeming to go… elsewhere… again. After a pause—perhaps a silent beckoning to whatever gods she prayed to—Agnes opened her eyes again and peered into the cup.
There was no reaction. She didn’t so much as flinch. She just stared at the bottom of the cup for ages. Hazel shifted uneasily in her seat.
She heard a breeze rustling the leaves outside. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she was sure there had not been a breeze when she arrived. Was the sky darkening as well? There hadn’t been a cloud in the sky on her walk over.
Agnes appeared to return from wherever she had gone, looking around as if she had lost her way. She locked eyes with Hazel, brows furrowing slightly before her gaze shot back down into the cup. Hazel got an uneasy feeling in her stomach that something had gone terribly wrong. Like she was about to learn of some horrible fate awaiting her in the near future.
“Agnes?” She broke the silence, and Agnes looked as though she’d seen the undead. Then, as though it had never been, her clouded expression faded away.
“So sorry, dear! Sometimes I wander too far when I do these readings, and it’s been quite a while since I’ve had someone willing to let me practice. Forgive me, please.”
“Are you alright? I thought something terrible had happened to you.”
Agnes tried to hide the flash of worry as it crossed her face, but Hazel caught it just so. She didn’t mention it, but it was unnerving.
“Agnes, what’s going on? What did the leaves show you?” Hazel leaned in closer.Ask her about the powder.
She sighed, pushing back her chair. “Nothing.”
“That reaction was fornothing? I find that hard to believe.”
Agnes shook her head. “Notnothingin the traditional sense. The thing is, Hazel dear, the leaves never show nothing. I am just not sure what to make of yours. It was… ambiguous. There is nothing distinct for me to work with. I was searching for something in a deeper place…beyond.But it is no matter.” She waved her hand as if shooing the thought away. There was a shift in her tone as she stood up from the table. “It’s no worry, child.” She gathered the cups and kettle and turned her back on Hazel.
Something was off, but Agnes clearly needed some time to think about it. Maybe Agnes was just tired, and Hazel had overstayed. After all, she wasn’t getting any younger. Hazel stood and gathered her things to leave.
But the presence in her bag weighed on her, its burden a boulder in her mind. She swallowed hard. “Agnes, I need to ask you about something else,” she managed.
“Sure, sure,” Agnes replied, too busy to turn around.
Hazel took a deep breath. “Something strange happened yesterday. A jar fell from a shelf in the kitchen, and when I went to clean it up, I didn’t recognize the herb inside. Actually, I don’t think it’s an herb at all.”
“Mmhmm,” the old woman mumbled.
“I wondered if you might take a look at it and tell me what you think?”
