Violette
POV: Violette
The warmth of my mug seeped into my calloused fingers as I watched the rainfall onto the already damp earth below my window. Normally I loved the rain. I loved the way it made me feel. As if every drop held a cleansing tonic that allowed me to wash away my doubts and insecurities. Today it felt sad. Like the earth was crying the tears I never could.
I tore my gaze away from the muddy puddles that were forming and looked around my room. It was cleaned to perfection and even the herbs on my altar were displayed in a neat, circular fashion. If it were up to me my room would be a mess of clothes, books, flowers, and half-finished journals. That was not what was expected of me though.
I never felt like I had a place to call my own in this house, my family, or my coven. Sometimes the loneliness felt like it was smothering me and the constant pressure to fall in line scratched at my soul like a claw that never dulled. I looked back at my window and focused on the farthest point my eye could see. Images danced in my head of late-night dancing, stolen glances at a stranger on the street, and architecture that made my hands ache to feel its every curve and texture.
I bit the inside of my cheek as the pictures faded. All I was left with was the grey sky and rolling hills of Princetown. My village was a small one and if you looked at a map of Devon County, Princetown didn’t even appear until you zoomed in to the small lakes and ponds that dotted the English countryside in my area. My father was always telling me that I should learn to appreciate where I’m from. I tried. Truly I did, but every night I would go to sleep and let my imagination take me away from this forgotten place.
A soft purring distracted me from my thoughts as I felt a small, furry, body nestle against my calf. My eyes crinkled and I set my cup down on the windowsill to scoop Ismeta into my arms. My familiar had a way of sensing when my thoughts were taking me down a rabbit hole. My feline friend did seem to detest rabbits.
Ismeta appeared almost out of thin air on my fifth birthday. The day my casting abilities appeared. The way my mother describes it, I had been outside in the garden making wishes out of dandelions. All of a sudden an entire field of them popped up as I was blowing away the last one. Ismeta appeared from the dandelion field. Her white fur seemed to blend in with the fuzzy weeds.
She had no collar on her, but her fur was pristine. She looked too clean and acted too calm to be a simple outdoor cat. When she refused to leave my side for the rest of the day, my mother realized what she was. Most days I felt like she was the only one who understood me. I scratched her head with my fingernails and she purred loudly, not seeming to care that the dirt under my fingernails was leaving marks on her.
“Violette! Are you ready to go? We have a gathering in 15 minutes!“. My father’s deep voice called from the living room. He hated when we were late to coven gatherings.
“I’m coming!“, I called out before giving Ismeta a kiss and setting her on the ground. She flicked her tail at me and sauntered off towards the open door, leaving with one last meow before disappearing around the corner. I laughed at her antics and quickly grabbed my rain jacket and wellies.
I stumbled as I attempted to walk and put my boots on at the same time. “Mom”, I shouted out down the hallway. “Have you seen my bag?“. I walked into the living room to see my mother shaking her head at me as she stood with the rest of my family. Her hand was outstretched, dangling my bag from her slender fingers.
“The one you left on the kitchen table?“, she scolded gently. Cleanliness was important to both of my parents and I did my best to abide by their rules. Sun casting, they said, was all about focusing your emotions. That focus was made harder if your environment was chaotic.
I took the bag from her and stepped closer to press a kiss on her cheek, delivering an apologetic smile as I pulled away. My younger sister, Lydia, took my hand in hers and pulled me out the door in a rush to catch up with my father. She was everything to my father and he was everything to her. The two of them shared a connection that I would never have with him and didn’t quite understand. She adored him and I think the way she listened to him without question endeared him towards her more.
Further from me.
The four of us piled into our small, rusted car and took off towards the hills. Leaving the cobblestone paths and sun-faded buildings in our rearview mirror.
“Lettie?” Lydia asked beside me. When Lydia was little, she had a hard time saying my full name. Lettie was as close as she could get, and even at 12 years old she still used it. I hated the nickname but I loved her more.
“Hmm?” I mumbled as I turned to give her my attention. She was holding Druvan in her lap, stroking his calico fur as he rested peacefully despite the bumpy road.
“Where’s Ismeta?“, she questioned.
Ismeta. We always brought our familiars to gatherings and I couldn’t believe I had forgotten her.
“Dad, please we need to go back”, I pleaded with my father as I leaned forward.
“No”, my mother cut in. “If you wanted to bring her with you should have been ready to go with the rest of us”. Her own familiar, a gray tabby named Tobias, seemed to stare at me from over her shoulder.
“Please”, I asked again.
His eyes met mine in the mirror, hard and unyielding. “We are going to be late as it is. Ismeta will be fine for one afternoon”.
My eyebrows furrowed at his refusal. I thought of all people, he would have understood my need to go back for her. His familiar died when he was a child and as a result, he almost stopped casting altogether. We only ever get one familiar and he told me that the loss of a creature so connected to us felt like someone had cut off one of his limbs.
I sat back in my seat and stared at the passing countryside, kicking myself for not being more responsible. I shook my head, clearing out the negative thoughts that were trying to take root. Ismeta was the most independent familiar in my family. She would often disappear throughout the day and come back with blood on her chin or feathers in her teeth. I smiled to myself as I thought about how often her appearance startled my parents.
She would be just fine.
**********
The circle of white willow trees came into view as we reached our destination. The power of casting still shocked me after all these years. I looked at the seemingly empty grove and focused my eyes on the space between the branches. I was only able to see through the illusion for a brief moment before it locked into place again in my mind. I had been trying to see through that illusion for 13 years with no luck.
My father parked the car along the side of the road and we all piled out. My mother and Lydia gingerly holding their familiars in their hands as they tried to rush over to the grove to join the coven. I followed along for a moment before stopping and glancing back at my father. His head was tilted up towards the sky and his hands were outstretched in front of him, elbows pinned at his side. He was cloaking the car.
I loved magic. I had this hunger for it that often got me into trouble and I couldn’t miss seeing casting at work. As my father’s head slowly lowered from the sky, our car vanished. I quickly turned and made my way to the willow trees, not wanting my father to know I had dallied.
When I finally stepped inside the illusion fell away. A sensation, similar to a body adjusting to a change in elevation, enveloped me and I shivered. I seriously loved magic.
Our coven was made up of 15 families of various sizes and dynamics. My mother called magic a privilege. One that was passed down from generation to generation. I saw it as a birthright. Every time I felt the magic build in my system, it made me feel powerful. Capable. There was so much I wanted to learn and do, but the guidelines of our coven halted my progress at every step.
Our community totaled 60 and was governed by five elders. All of which were elected by the adult casters every 20 years. Both of my parents were thrilled when they happened to be elected to the same council eight years ago. They had worked so hard to garner support from our coven and I did my best to be excited for them. It was rare that married couples were elected to the same council due to fears that secret majorities would be formed.
My parents weren’t those kinds of people. They were pillars of the community who never complained when it was their turn to teach the younger casters of the coven and who always opened their home to anyone in need.
With both of our parents being elected to the council, there were a lot of expectations placed on Lydia and me. It felt like everyone was watching us to see if we’d mess up. We were after all an extension of our parents’ power and leadership abilities. Lydia met and succeeded those expectations. At just 12 years old she was already in talks to join the next council and that vote wouldn’t occur until she was 24.
I did not meet their expectations. I asked too many questions and broke too many rules. I wanted more and made no attempts to hide it.
“Vi!“. My shoulders relaxed as I heard Gillian call my name. We had been best friends for as long as I could remember and I loved her like another sister. We had started to grow apart over the last year, and I worried that a day would come when we would no longer understand each other.
Gillian was similar to Lydia in the sense that she loved everything about the coven. She abided by the rules because she truly believed in them. Despite this she never commented on the pointed questions I asked in our lessons, and I know the elders had spoken to her about “guiding me in the right direction”. Gilly loved me for me. Although I suspected that at times she did wish I tried harder to fit in.
I rushed over to her outstretched arms and closed my own around her torso. Her wild tangle of windswept blonde hair tickled my nose and I released her with one last squeeze. “What did I miss?“, I asked quietly.
She entwined her arm with mine before looking back out to the crowd of people. “Only the initial welcome. You know how that goes. Elder Fiona says a few words about our history and the part we play in creating a lasting future for this coven, then she releases us to greet each other”.
Elder Fiona was the oldest of all our leaders and the most strict. She was 62 years old and had been trying to earn a place on the council for her entire adult life. Only in the last election was she finally chosen. I admired her determination and the grit it took to chase a goal so passionately.
I think her need to prove herself spilled over into every facet of her life. She was never late. She never missed coven gatherings. She had dinner with every member of the coven in a scheduled rotation. She was the definition of perfection in the public eye and as a result, she had a low tolerance for anyone who wasn’t striving for the same things.
“Shall we?” I asked Gillian with a giddy smile on my face.
She gave me an equally excited smile before raising her palms face up.
Coven welcomes were some of my favorite things about gatherings. It was an exchange of energy that could be best described as an alternative way to ask how someone was doing. It was more intimate than that. You never had to question if the person who asked you actually cared. You knew they did. You knew because they could feel it and in turn have a better understanding of you as a person. Our coven was far from perfect and disagreements popped up all the time. Being able to feel someone else’s emotions when they let you in, helped to prevent those disagreements from going any further.
I raised my palms face down to hover over Gillians and let my eyes drift close. Sun casting was all about focus and clarity. You had to know exactly what you wanted to make happen in order for it to take shape in front of you. Even this - something I had been taught to do as a child - still took an effort to achieve.
I cleared my mind and focused on not just opening the barrier I had around my mind, but allowing my current thoughts and feelings to burst forth into Gillian’s waiting palms. As I released my intent, I felt hers sink slowly into my palms, before gliding up my arms and into my head.
She was feeling relaxed, happy, and excited about the coming week.
I opened my eyes to see her staring back at me with a look of concern. “What’s wrong?“, I asked with a slight tilt to my head.
“You feel a little chaotic right now Vi. Your emotions are all over the place, but the only one I could pick up on was a small spark of fear”.
I released a heavy sigh. “I forgot Ismeta at home and since we were already late, my parents wouldn’t let me go back to get her. I’m just worried about her”.
Gillian regarded me in a way that only best friends can do. With a raised eyebrow and a look that said she knew it was much more than that, but she also knew now was not the time to push for answers. “She’ll be fine. Your familiar is wilder than most. I’d work on clearing your mind a bit more before you greet anyone else”.
She gave my hand a light pulse before stepping away to greet another member of our coven.
Taking her advice, I focused on the swaying branches of the surrounding willow trees in an attempt to calm my breathing and let go of my anxiety. By the time I was finally ready to enter the fold again, the elders had called us to order.
