It was Pru’s turn to say “Ah.” When nothing else came to her mind, she dropped her face in her palms and indulged in a moment of peace.
Ceridwen laid her palm on her shoulder and murmured indistinctly. The air filled with the scent of rain yet again, and Pru’s shoulders felt lighter.
“Is this a signature move?” Pru lifted her face and found Ceridwen smiling at her.
“Conjuring rain? No. Rain is not my domain, but I thought you’d be the most receptive to it right now.”
Pru smiled at Ceridwen’s astuteness.
“I don’t know what I’d be most receptive to right now or it seems ever. So rain is hers?”
Ceridwen rubbed Pru’s shoulder and then laid her hand on the empty hydrangea bush, long out of bloom. A whisper, a few words, and pink and purple blossoms filled it entirely.
“I am Earth. And Rhiannon is Wind. Even though it’s not common, or expected of those with power, we each have our own element. Not everyone with the gift has a predilection for one, it just worked out that way for us. My mother didn’t have a preferred domain and neither does Victoria. We don’t know much about the ones that came before, and Gwendolyn’s story is cloaked in too much mystery and misery, but Elizabeth—her daughter—was Wind…”
“Like Rhiannon.” Pru winced at interrupting, and Ceridwen patted her shoulder again.
“Even when we do have that inclination toward one element or another, we still master it differently. All power is very specific to the person it lives within. And we are able to learn spells from another’s skillset. It just doesn’t come as…natural.I can call the rain, but it will be slow and steady and relatively weak, whereas she can unleash the powers of the hurricane with just a thought.”
“What would it cost her?”
“Yes, well, that was supposed to be our lesson for today. That the craft comes with a price. It’s not limitless. It lives and it breathes with us, and it drains and fills us just like life itself. Think of it as a spring. If you use the water too quickly and consume too much of it, it will run dry, it will empty. But if you drink slowly, pace yourself, the spring will always flow.”
“So magic is infinite, except when it’s not.”
“Pretty much. And as to your question about the hurricane, I suspect back in the days when Rhiannon practiced her craft regularly with the coven and shared in the energy, she could’ve probably drowned the entire island in the rain, or simply swept it with her wind. Now? I’m afraid she can’t intentionally sustain a strong breeze.”
Pru thought about what Ceridwen said, and something gave her pause.
“But the storms? The powerful ones from a few weeks ago?”
Ceridwen sighed and tapped her finger on the surface of the wrought iron table in front of them, the joyful gardenias in their clay pots turning their heads to her.
“I can only guess that some of it is the island rebelling against whatever spell she has contained herself in because it deems it unnatural, some of it may very well be her power not being completely under her control, and some of it is you, Prudence.”
“Me?”
“It’s a bit of an age-old tale, what happens when the unstoppable force meets an immovable object. A physics problem.”
Pru frowned at the comparison.
“It’s ridiculous, Ceri. I’m the immovable object in this case?” When Ceridwen nodded, Pru threw her hands up in the air. “I may not be all that au courant in physics, but I do remember that classic paradox. And what happens when an unstoppable force hits an immovable object is…” She trailed off suddenly, dropping her arms, aware of what the next words out of her mouth would be.
“Yes, both will forever be changed.”
Pru hunched her shoulders, the air around her chilling rapidly.
Ceridwen tilted her head and whispered, “Except, if you look at the paradox through the prism of linguistics, there’s a loophole.”
“Oh?”
“While the object is immovable, it is not indestructible, Pru. And the force is unstoppable. It will tear the object to shreds and move on, while said shreds will still remain in their place. Like punching a hole dead center of the chest and ripping a heart out.”
Ceridwen simply touched Pru’s sternum, like she had the very first day they stood in this garden, and Pru felt her heart, which had been beating overtime, slow to its regular pace.
“Whatever is meant to be, will be, Pru.”
Ceridwen’s wordsstill ringing in her ears, Pru walked home. She’d refused the offer of a ride. She needed time to think, to be alone with her thoughts. Things were indeed moving at breakneck speed, and Rhiannon hadn’t even been back in Crow’s Nest for a full two months. And yet it felt like she had been here since time everlasting.
