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ficsnooneaskedfor · 2 years

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Call the Twi'lek Midwife

Chapter 50: Protecting Gifts

Word count: 5.9k

Series rating: M

Chapter summary: After Citali learns of her cousin's connection to the Force, Izel tells her some of the histories of their people that have been kept secret and how her own abilities revealed themselves. Crosshair wakes up the next morning to find his condition has improved drastically and after a talk with Citali, he comes to a decision.

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It took every bit of self-control Izel had not to openly weep at her cousin's revelation. For so long she had hidden her unique abilities from all but a handful of Jemala's healers, not even her parents knew of them. There were times that hiding such a part of herself made her feel isolated but now she knew she was not alone. Citali had the same gift she did, knew what it felt like, and she wanted to cry in relief. But Izel was concerned that if she broke down in tears it would frighten Citali more than she probably already was, though she could not sense any fear in her. Izel only had the ability to sense intense emotions in others, so Citali either was not afraid at all or her fear was minimal. The strongest emotion Izel could sense in her was confusion and curiosity. She stood up, helping Citali to her feet, and grabbed her spear that was leaning against the house. "Come, let's go somewhere more private to speak," Izel said. She did not want to chance anyone hearing them.

The guards at the gate would usually discourage people from leaving the safety of the village at night but as it was Izel and Citali, they let them pass without issue. Izel was able to find their way around even in the low light and could sense that Citali was growing fearful of the deep darkness that engulfed them, her anxiety intensifying when she spotted eyes staring at them or heard the sounds of snapping twigs. Citali could be quite adventurous at times but roaming the forest in the dead of night was stretching it. Izel put her arm around Citali and said, "Have no fear, I will keep you safe." There was not a hint of sarcasm, irony, or teasing in Izel's voice. She was genuinely trying to calm her. "Are you still afraid of the dark?" When Citali was very young, total darkness terrified her as she was used to the constant bright lights and noises of the city. Her brothers would tease her about it but Izel never did, letting her little cousin stay in her bed when she was afraid and telling her stories until she fell asleep.

"Usually no but this is a bit much for me," Citali admitted. Given the choice, she would rather walk the streets of Ord Mantell City at night than do what she was doing now. In many ways, that was far more dangerous than this but at least she would be able to see.

"It's all right. I can sense everything that surrounds us, there is nothing nearby that can harm you. And if I sense anything approaching, we will return to the village."

"How can you sense all that?" Citali asked.

"It is a gift from the Light," she said. Izel closed her eyes and listened to the songs of life around them. "The Light is known by many names. Our people call it Juh, many call it the Force. Others call it Ashla or even magic. The Light in all living things creates music and over the years, I've learned how to listen for it."

"Years? You mean you've known about your...gift for years?"

"Yes. Eleven years to be exact. I'm assuming you've learned of yours very recently?"

"Yes. Just before we came here," Citali said, still in disbelief that Izel had known of her abilities, whatever they were, for so long. "The grand-wisewoman also called it being 'Kissed by the Light' but in all the stories and songs of our people, I've never heard of it."

"Nor had I until it happened to me," Izel said. The wisewomen and healers of the village were seen as holy, mystical beings tasked not only with caring for the physical and spiritual health of all in the village but with learning and passing down the history of their people. This sort of knowledge was a closely guarded secret, Citali would not have been taught of it yet. "Only the grand-wisewoman and a few of the older healers know of such things. No one else knows of my gift, not even our family."

"Why is this knowledge kept secret?" Citali asked, though she already had a hunch about why.

"For the safety of people like you and me, our families, and our communities. And after the massacre of the Jedi..." Now that her suspicions that they were clones had been confirmed, Izel could not help wondering if Citali's new family had aided in the destruction of the Jedi Order. They obviously were not loyal to the Empire. Citali probably never would have befriended them in the first place if they were, no matter how infatuated with Echo she was and she definitely would not have brought them here. From what little Izel knew of them, they must have deserted long before the clones were retired from service. Perhaps what happened to the Jedi was what spurred them to desert. "After what happened to them, I can see why such knowledge has been kept secret among our people. Do Echo and the others know about you?"

"They do," Citali said honestly. "I told Echo about it, the others learned of it by accident. But you need not worry about your safety or mine with them. The clones had chips in their brains that forced them to kill the Jedi but they removed their chips. They have no loyalty to the Empire." Izel felt sick to her stomach at the thought of chips controlling someone's mind and what that sort of torture must feel like. She imagined it was a fate worse than death. "Izel," Citali said reaching for her hand. "I need to know more about what this is and what it means. Please tell me what you know." Izel heard the desperation in Citali's voice. She did not have all the answers Citali would want but she could teach her what she did know.

"As children, we are taught that Juh and Sinya were born from the Mother Goddess. That Juh is the Light, the power that gives life to the universe and everything in it. That Sinya is the Darkness, the power of death and destruction, feared and misunderstood though no less vital in holding the universe together than the Light. There was a time I believed they were just stories. Beautiful ones but still just stories. Myths our people told to make sense of the universe, but there is at least some truth to them."

Izel stopped for a moment to make sure they were still safe. She looked through the forest, her eyes naturally accustomed to seeing in the dark, listening with her ears before quieting her mind to sense the living creatures nearby, the earth beneath her feet acting as a conduit to connect her.

"There are the Juh Sirku'iko, Manipulators of the Light," Izel continued. "Those to whom the Light gives the potential for extraordinary powers, like the Jedi but such power among our people has not been seen for many hundreds of years. Then there are the Juhkarsa, the ones who can sense the Light. All beings are connected to the Light, the connection being the strongest when we are infants, during childbirth, in battle, and at the end of life. But Juhkarsa are 'Kissed', meaning the Light has awakened in them the special abilities that all living beings possess that lay dormant most of the time. We do not have the same power that Manipulators have but in many ways, that is a blessing. Our abilities are more easily hidden and do not usually attract the attention of other Force-users. And negative emotions are not as dangerous to us because we simply cannot use our gifts in anger, hate, or fear the way Manipulators can. With great power comes the price of tempation and because our abilities are subtle we are less corruptible, better able to fight off dark influences though that does not mean they can't sway us."

"If all living beings have these...gifts," Citali said. "Why would the Light give us the ability to use them and not everyone?"

"I have been asking myself that for years. Grandmother..." Izel said, meaning the grand-wisewoman. "She told me that Juhkarsa have appeared throughout the history of our people, most often in times of great need. And that many over the centuries have come from our clan."

"Really?" Citali asked.

"You seem surprised," Izel said. "The Light often gives these abilities to the leaders of our people, and there is a long history of healers and chiefs in our family."

"That is hardly unusual. Our clan is one of the oldest in the tribe."

"More like the oldest. Grandmother told me that our clan is descended from the Three Sisters," Izel said. Citali should have been surprised but in her heart, she already knew. "They were Juh Sirku'iko but you already know this, don't you? Because you've seen them. They revealed their names to you."

Citali nodded her head. "Ezprida, Alema, and Lia'ry. I saw their story in a wall of light coming out of a fire. I saw them captured by slavers on Ryloth, how Ezprida use her power to release the bonds of all the slaves, how Alema made the walls in the market fall, and Lia'ry...she spoke to me." Izel did not seem surprised, having a look on her face as if she had experienced something similar. "But if you're saying there is some sort of...power in the blood of our family, you must be mistaken. They lived over a thousand years ago, there surely must be many people throughout the North that are their descendants."

"I don't believe blood matters much. Many of the Juhkarsa from our clan were not born into the tribe. I think it's less about lineage and more about carrying on their legacy. Perhaps in our case, it's a little of both," Izel said and Citali remembered something Lia'ry had said to her: I have been watching you, little sister. As I watch all who carry on my legacy.

"Has Lia'ry spoken to you too?" Citali asked, unsure of what else to say.

"No, but Alema has spoken to me many, many times," Izel said. "She offers me guidance in my dreams and in times of danger, I sense her presence. Sometimes I can hear her voice in my head. What did Lia'ry say to you? Better yet, tell me everything from the beginning."

Citali told her about the ritual she had performed asking for her family's safe return from a rescue mission and how she believed her "Awakening" happened then. She didn't say the mission was to rescue Crosshair but Izel knew. Citali left Rex, Wolffe, Gregor, and most importantly, Ahsoka out of the story but told her cousin everything from her dreams to the visions she saw from Morai to seeing her mother, brother, ancestors, and speaking to Lia'ry. How there were times Citali could sense the Light around her in her garden, how she was becoming more perceptive of the emotions of others. "But one thing I keep thinking of," Citali said. "Is something Lia'ry told me that seemed very strange. She said that she and I were two different people but one at the same time. What do you think she meant by that?" Izel laughed almost knowingly.

"Alema told me the same thing once," Izel said. "I've spoken to Grandmother about it. It is said when our bodies die, our spirits journey through the Darkness and into the Light again. We become the wind, water, sky, stars...everything that makes the universe. Grandmother believes it's possible that the bodies of Juhkarsa can hold our own Light and a 'spark' of the Light from another person, perhaps even many people. That a bit of Alema's Light lives in me and if that is true, perhaps some of Lia'ry's Light lives in you."

Izel then told Citali the story of her own Awakening. A story Citali knew but not in full detail. Izel was seventeen, a year into her training with the Barcarkan, on patrol duty with her group and she became separated from them when a terrible blizzard snuck upon them. Night had fallen, the howling of the wind deafening to her ears, her comm device had no signal, and she could not see more than a few inches in front of her. Without shelter, it was unlikely she would live to see another sunrise so she decided to build a snow cave to weather the storm. That was when she heard voices calling her name in the dark, beaconing her to come closer, telling her someone needed her help. Without hesitation, she followed the voices until she found a Savrip child, huddled on the ground whimpering. In the brutal cold of winter, the reptilian species sought the refuge of hot springs located in caves beneath the mountains. Why the child was alone, Izel did not know but he would not last long even with all the furs covering his body. The child was afraid of her despite being a foot taller than she was and Izel understood why. The Twi'leks of Ord Mantell regarded the Savrips as sentient beings but others on the planet not only hunted them for sport but consumed them. The child had every reason to fear her so she got low to the ground, put down her weapons, and spoke to him in a gentle voice, telling him she would keep him safe but they needed to keep walking or they would both die. The child did not fully understand her but quickly realized that though she did not look like a Mantellian Twi'lek, Izel was obviously one of their people and he could trust her. Izel took him by the hand following the voices that still called to her, praying that the massive child did not collapse. They came to a cave with the salvation of a small hot spring inside where Izel slowly warmed the child, gave him all the dried meat she had in her bag, and prayed fervently most of the night. When sleep found her, she had a terrifying dream.

It was similar to Citali's dream of the mountain but Izel's was different. She was naked and alone, stuck in a bog that stretched as far as her eyes could see, and with every step she sank deeper into the icy cold, black mud, the stench so overwhelming it was suffocating her. When she could go no further, fearing she would freeze or drown before reaching her destination, an old Twi'lek woman with orange skin reached out her hands, held her close, and put a cloak on her. The woman was Alema and once Izel was warmed and given time to recoup her strength she journeyed onward, supported by many other people she believed to be ancestors of both her mother and father. She made her way across the bog and finally onto land, awaking to find the snow had ceased falling. Together she and the Savrip child left the cave and were able to find his parents before Izel reunited with her own family who wept with joy after believing her to be dead.

Izel did not speak of the voices or the strange dreams she continued to have to anyone at first but when they did not stop, she went to the grand-wisewoman and told her everything that happened. They went into the forest along with a handful of healers to perform a ritual and while there was no wall of light as occurred with Citali the fire did burn unusually bright, there seemed to be figures dancing in the flames, and everyone heard voices. The voices were loudest to Izel, who stared at the fire in a trance before collapsing to the ground as visions in her mind showed her the story of the Three Sisters. Alema came to Izel again, telling her they were "two different people but also one", to always remember that mercy and compassion are what makes a true warrior not the ability to take life, and to follow the path that was in front of her. That their people and all of Ord Mantell would one day need her courage, mercy, and strength and that she would not be alone in the fight to come. From that day on Izel's abilities grew little by little. She learned to feel the life around her, to read people's emotions, to sense danger before it happened, and to draw on the power of the Light to help sustain her physically and emotionally in perilous times. Dreams and visions led her to slaves in need of rescue, including the children of her older brother and his husband, and her deep connection to her home planet even gave her some foresight into the weather patterns that could affect the lives of her people. But Izel was warned by the holy people of their village to be cautious in using her gifts, fearing that if word got out some might seek to enslave and use her for their own nefarious purposes. It had happened before, that was why their people did not speak of these things openly any longer. Secrecy was even more crucial now with the Empire hunting down the remaining Jedi and other Force-sensitives. Like Citali, Izel hoped their power was subtle enough to avoid detection but there was no way to know for sure.

"There is still so much I do not understand," Izel said. "And probably never will. After the abduction of the last Juh Siru'iko of our people by a Jedi who turned away from the Light, our tribe went to great lengths to protect itself. Books and texts written about those with strong connections to the Light and their deeds were destroyed, their stories only being passed down orally until they became myths. Much of what was once known has been lost. But one thing has become very clear to me. To have two Juhkarsa in the tribe at one time is rare and only occurs in times of desperate need. It is a sign our people and all of Ord Mantell will face great challenges in our lifetimes. From the Empire, crime syndicates, perhaps another type of threat...I don't know. Whatever it is, people will need our gifts Tali." Then Izel's sense of duty was overcome by fear for Citali, someone she loved as dearly as a little sister. One of her first memories was of when Citali's parents brought her to Jemala for the first time and how she loved her baby cousin from the moment she held her. Even as a young child Izel was fiercely protective of her and that never stopped. She stood in front of Citali, putting both her hands on her shoulders. "Stay in Jemala with me," Izel begged. "I can protect you, the power in the land of our people will protect you. The tribe will accept and love your family. I can teach you what I've learned, we can figure out how you can use your gifts to help others together. I know the weight of being a wisewoman here is not what you want but we can keep all of you safe."

"I can't Izel," Citali said reluctantly. She was glad she had not told Izel about the dream Ahsoka had of her in danger, it would only make this harder for them both. "I appreciate what you are trying to do and in a way, Jemala is and will always be my home. But I have a home and community somewhere else too. I will always support you, our clan, and our people in any way I can. If there ever comes a time our people need me, I will not hesitate. But this is not where I am supposed to be right now."

"I understand," she said sadly. She and Citali had always been close because both felt like outsiders in their tribe growing up, even if the tribe fully accepted and loved them. Izel because of how she looked, Citali for being raised away from her people and that was precisely why she wouldn't be content in Jemala. Izel had pretty much everything and everyone she loved within the walls of her village but Citali had a life, a career, and people she loved in and near Ord Mantell City. Upending it to move halfway across the planet would not be an easy thing for her, any more than it would be for Izel to do the same. And if she was honest with herself, Izel too felt that Citali's place was not in Jemala. Perhaps that would change someday but for now, she was exactly where she needed to be. "I'm sorry for asking you to do such a thing," Izel said. "I've done this to you before and I did it again tonight. It's just...knowing what the Empire did to the Jedi, knowing what they will do if they find out who your family is...I can't help but worry about you. About all of you. I just want you to be safe."

"I know you do," Citali said hugging her.

Izel sensed a large predator in the distance and wanting to keep Citali safe she decided it was time to return to the village. They walked in silence while Citali pondered everything she had learned and like with Ahsoka, for every answer she received her questions doubled and she was unsure how to feel. When they reached the front of their family's home Izel said, "If you are able to come to Jemala on a more regular basis, I can try to teach you more if you would like. Crosshair will probably need more treatments anyways and it seems like the others really like it here."

"I'll discuss it with them. Thank you for everything Izel, this was...enlightening. I think I'll hang out in the garden to decompress for a bit. If he's still awake, will you let Echo know I'll be in shortly?"

"Of course," Izel said smiling, giving Citali a hug and a kiss. "Goodnight."

Citali walked around to the back of the house, searched for a small stone, and sat down on the soft grass as she took in everything around her. The scent of flowers that only blossomed at night filled the air, the chill breeze on her skin, the sounds of frogs peeping. She held the stone in her hand, focusing her energy on connecting to it and trying to make it move. Citali was unsure how much time had passed but then she sensed she was not alone. She opened her eyes and saw Omega standing in front of her dressed in her nightgown, furs around her shoulders, and holding her clone trooper doll.

"Hello sweetheart. Is everything all right?" Citali asked.

"I keep hearing weird noises," Omega admitted.

"Are they frightening you?" Omega nodded her head. She was growing up so fast but there were times like this when it really hit Citali that she was still very much a child. Citali held out her arms and Omega ran to her, sitting on her lap while Citali rocked her and rubbed her back. "The noises from the forest take some getting used to but you are very safe here, I promise."

"I know. I've tried to ignore them but I just can't. I don't know why I'm so scared." The other girls, some much younger than Omega, were fast asleep in the hut, unbothered by the sounds around them. It embarrassed her to be so afraid.

"Because it's different," Citali said. "They scared me too when I was little, they still do sometimes. Izel used to tell me to pretend the noises were music, that the animals, the wind, and bugs were singing. That helped me a little."

"That's a nice way to think about it," Omega said smiling, relaxing as she listened to the sounds from a new perspective.

Citali gave her a hug and said, "Let's get you back to sleep, we've got a big day tomorrow and we need to be well-rested for our lesson. Would you feel better sleeping in the house with me tonight?" Omega nodded her head and Citali brought her inside where she made them a snack and some tea as quietly as she could. They went to the bed Echo was sleeping in with Snowball laying beside him and he woke up smiling when he saw Citali's beautiful face. "Omega's gonna sleep with us if that's okay," she whispered.

"Of course," he said groggily, lifting up the blankets and furs. With Omega nestled in the middle, Citali told them both how much she loved them before telling Omega a story Izel used to tell her to help her fall asleep. At some point, it dawned on her once again that Omega had lived most of her life without receiving this sort of comfort. Nala Se may have had some fondness for the girl but Citali doubted she ever sang to her or tucked her in at night or told her bedtime stories. It made her heart ache for her apprentice, her friend, her little sister and made her even more desperate to shower her with the love she had been denied.

And all the more fearful that her attempts to learn how to use her "gifts" might be a horrible mistake that could rob Omega and the rest of their family of the joy and freedom they had found.

Crosshair had had this nightmare a few times now but that didn't make it any easier on him, and this time felt much more real than the others. He was trying to kill the Padawan on Kaller, feeling the same confusion he did that day, wavering between uncontrollable fury for this boy his mind screamed was a traitor and deserved death while another part compelled him to barely miss the shots he took at him. Then he was on Kamino, wrestling with the same feelings as he fired at Omega and his brothers but in even less control of himself than he'd been on Kaller. He was glad they escaped but also felt abandoned by them, the feeling only intensifying as time passed. There was Onderon and the rebel camp he and his new squad had executed, then Bracca where they attacked Omega and his brothers again. The injuries he sustained there seemed to have dampened the control of his inhibitor chip somewhat but he was not free of it. After that, it became harder to determine what thoughts were truly his own and the ones that were from the lingering influence of his inhibitor chip. Then he was back on Kamino, trying to convince Hunter and his brothers to let Omega go and join the Empire for their safety, believing if he said his chip was already removed they would think he made the choice to serve the Empire of his own free will and they would do the same. He watched the Marauder fly away and felt himself sinking into despair and loneliness like a deep, black pit swallowing him up.

When he opened his eyes he heard songbirds chirping and saw Citali sitting beside him, seeming to glow in the sunlight as his eyes adjusted. Crosshair looked around for Hunter or Tech but they were nowhere to be found. Citali immediately noticed he had more control of his neck muscles. "Where are Hunter...and Tech?"

"Helping make breakfast," she said gently. She knew he has having a nightmare just before he woke up and hoped a calm voice might soothe him. "They decided not to wake you. They figured you were still very tired from everything you went through yesterday. How are you feeling today?"

"Still tired but...not as...bad as yesterday," Crosshair said. It took him a moment to realize he had replied faster to her question than he usually did, he did not have to think as hard on the words he was trying to say, and had said them with fewer pauses. His eyes widened and he threw the furs off his upper body, looking at his left arm. He was able to easily make a fist with his hand and though his muscles were very weak, he could bend his elbow a bit before his arm flopped back down on his mat. He was more excited than Citali had ever seen him.

"Easy," she said moving to his left side to support his arm so he did not injure himself. "I know you're excited but you could hyperextend your joints if they aren't properly supported." She moved the furs off his legs and asked if he could wiggle the toes of his left foot. He couldn't move them as easily as his fingers but he knew he'd done it when Citali laughed and hugged him. Crosshair couldn't help smiling at her and she saw that the paralysis in his face had almost completely disappeared. Seeing him smile fully and so genuinely brought tears to her eyes.

"Thank you...Citali. For all you've...done," he said wiping away the tear that had fallen on her cheek with his strong hand. He didn't like to see her crying, even if they were tears of joy for it reminded him of the visions of her in pain. Suddenly the smile that had been on his face was replaced with grimness. "I know I haven't been...the most pleasant...patient. I'm sorry. I don't deserve...the kindness you've shown...me."

"Why would you say something like that?" Citali said frowning.

"You have no idea...the things I've done," he said. "I am not...a good person, Citali. I never...have been." He thought of all the patients Citali lost over the years in childbirth, the babies who did not survive, her mother and brother. Why were they gone when Crosshair was not? It did not seem right that someone like him continued to survive after the things he'd done. Even before his inhibitor chip activated, he was not a good man. He was arrogant, ill-tempered, and lacked the compassion that was so natural to Citali. He wondered if the chip merely brought out the monster slumbering inside him. His guilt was so strong that Citali could sense it through the Force without trying.

"Do you think I concern myself with whether my patients are good people or not?" Citali said.

"No," Crosshair said. "That's what worries me. You've done a lot...for me. I was a stranger...to you but you helped...me anyways. If I was still...loyal to the Empire you and the people you love would...be in danger."

"It is not for me to decide if people are deserving of medical care or not. That sort of thinking is very dangerous. My job is to do what I can to make and keep people healthy, nothing more." Citali held his hand and looked into his eyes, Crosshair realizing he was getting more used to her touching him. "Are you still loyal to the Empire?"

"Of course not," Crosshair said quickly. "I might be a bit of...a jerk sometimes but I wouldn't..." Citali thought he was struggling to find his words due to his brain injury until she realized there was another reason he could not finish his sentence.

"You're remembering more of the things you did when you had your chip, aren't you? And wondering what actions were of your own free will or not," Citali said and Crosshair nodded his head. "Whatever you did...you can feel remorse and try to make amends in some way if you want but there will come a day when you'll have to accept that you can't change what happened. That is not in your control. What is in your control are the choices you now make and what sort of person you can be. If you don't like who you were, you can change that." Crosshair had to scoff.

"Tech once said...the exact opposite of that."

"I know he did," Citali said. "He's told me about it, the things he said to you when Tipoca City was destroyed. That you had always been, how did he put it...'severe and unyielding' I believe. That it was your nature and that couldn't be changed. But as intelligent as Tech is, he doesn't know everything and even he would say his words weren't entirely correct. People do change, I witness that every day. It's easier in some ways to let circumstances change who we are, for better or worse. Doing so by choice is not so easy but it's not supposed to be." Crosshair was always struck by Citali's ability to say profound things with simple words and wondered if she did this sort of thing with all her patients.

"Are you a...philosopher in your...spare time or something?" he teased causing Citali to smile again. Every quip and jest he made she took as a good sign.

"Isn't everyone?" she replied and Crosshair laughed.

"Definitely not."

They continued his morning exercises and did music therapy, singing a song Citali had been teaching him for some time while Crosshair reflected on the things she had said. With curiosity gnawing at them, Tech, Hunter, Wrecker, Echo, and Omega eventually crowded into the hut to see how Crosshair was doing today, ecstatic when they saw the drastic improvements he made overnight. Wrecker and Omega hugged him excitedly, Tech administered his medicines, Hunter helped him get clean and dressed before they joined everyone in the house, Echo setting down the food he made especially for Crosshair. He ate his breakfast in silence as he watched his brothers, thinking about how much they had changed. Echo had transformed physically with his new arm and improved health but what Crosshair noticed the most was how he seemed more comfortable with himself. Wrecker was still happy-go-lucky and playful but much more mature and responsible. The softness that had always been in Hunter he showed more openly now and Tech seemed to genuinely enjoy the company of others, rather than just tolerating it. They were happier than they had ever been.

Crosshair did not know if such joy was something he could ever truly experience but he wanted it for his brothers. For Omega, Melita, Marina, and Citali too. He still did not agree with the way they lived their lives but maybe that was why they needed him, why he needed to stay with them. He may never be able to fight or shoot again but at the very least he could be a voice of reason when they seemed to be doing something foolish. Who better to protect them from the Empire than someone who spent over a year serving it? It would not be easy but leaving them in an attempt to put his past behind him wouldn't be any easier. It might be for a time but if his inhibitor chip did not make him forget his love for his brothers, time and distance wouldn't either. And if anything were to happen to them or Omega, Citali, Melita, and Marina, Crosshair would be tormented for the rest of his days with thoughts of what he could have done to help them. He wasn't ready to tell anyone but he had made his decision.

His loyalties were with his brothers and the people they loved, the people Crosshair had come to love, and he would do what he could to defend them until he could elude death no longer.

Taglist: @darkangel4121 @arcee-1995 @thecoffeelorian @gjrain20-starwars @littlefeatherr

For anyone that's interested, the idea of a "spark" of Light from another person being in Citali and Izel was inspired by the beliefs many different Native American tribes have about reincarnation and the belief that a person can have more than one soul in their body at one time or that a soul can be in multiple places at once, such as being a part of nature and reincarnating into another human body. It's a different way of thinking about reincarnation that many people are not familiar with so I wanted to include this in case anyone was confused.

#the bad batch #bad batch fanfiction #bad batch fanfic #call the twi'lek midwife

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mostly-mundane-atla · 4 years

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Little Freedom Fighters headcanons

Smellerbee was the first one Jet asked to join him. She wasn't from his village, but he did find her having run away from her now occupied home shortly after he lost everything.

Longshot didn't just see his own village burn down, he was also taken to serve as a kitchen boy for the soldiers occupying a neighboring town. For his "attitude" he was starved, struck across the face, told he should have been locked in a burning house like his parents, and endured other abuses. Before escaping and joining Jet, he poisoned the soldiers. It wasn't enough to kill them, but it did weaken them, making them much easier for the Freedom Fighters to pick off until those who were left were overpowered by the locals.

Sneers used to get into fights with the other boys in his town, not because they were mad at each other or wanted to settle scores or anything, just because they wanted to fight. They'd usually get noodles or steamed buns after.

Pipsqueak, while admittedly not the smartest, actually had a con he would do with young pickpockets he caught trying to steal from him. He'd have them follow him and introduce him to other kids as a friend who can teach them how to win a fight. When Pipsqueak knocked them down, the pickpockets would help them back up as a cover to steal their money, and they'd split the "profits" with him when it was done. He picked this practice up again with the Duke after they split off from the Freedom Fighters.

Longshot reads and writes the most fluently and has helped the others, who have varying degrees of literacy. Both Jet and Pipsqueak have trouble recognizing and differentiating the characters, making reading and writing very difficult for them. The Duke learns very naturally and Smellerbee has learned a lot from Longshot too, but not nearly as much as she'd like and gets very frustrated when she has trouble with it. The other kids they take in are taught some words when they get there to more easily communicate with Longshot since they haven't had time to get used to his nonverbal communication.

Smellerbee's family was full of wisewomen, midwives, and herbalists who started teaching her about medicine and poison since before she could talk. She knows exactly which plants and mushrooms are toxic and which are fine, even beneficial, to eat. The Freedom Fighters agreed to stop capturing soldiers and focus more on driving them out because she would make them drink poisoned tea that gave them incredibly painful stomach cramps, choking fits, or seizures and it was very disturbing to watch up close.

Before the group split up and went separate ways, many of the younger children they took in would crawl into Jet's bed after having a nightmare. He'd hold them while they cried and sing them to sleep with a song his mother used to sing him.

The Duke and Smellerbee had a special understanding between them. The Duke was notably younger than the rest and Smellerbee had always been small for her age. They'd make jokes to each other about being short, and Smellerbee could talk the Duke into things even Jet and Pipsqueak couldn't. Certain chores, for example, sweeping and scrubbing the tree fort floors and helping Longshot with the cooking, he'd only do if she asked him. Some things she had to for him, like combing his hair. He'd always sit still for her and when he split with Pipsqueak, he kept the comb she used for him and held it whenever he missed her.

Sneers left a clay flute behind when he joined the Freedom Fighters and not a day went by without him regretting it. He was quite skilled with it and knew many pretty songs. He always told Pipsqueak that if he could learn a proper singing technique, his singing voice would be extraoridnary.

Smellerbee had a fever at one point on the way to Ba Sing Se and had to rest until she was better. Longshot would deliberatly pick mushrooms and berries that he knew were poisonous so she could tell him not to eat or cook them and be less upset with how "unproductive" she thought she was being.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #atla headcanons #freedom fighters

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shadg2k3 · 3 years

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A Brief History of Green Witchcraft

The practices of the modern green witch came from folk healers and practitioners of folk magic. The modern green witch finds their foremothers and forefathers in village herbalists, midwives, healers, wisewomen, and cunning-folk who performed particular services for their communities.

The jobs of these spiritual ancestors of the green witch usually included midwifery and preparation of the dead for burial, as well as the use of many plants to heal mind and body. These people possessed knowledge of both life and death. They knew what kinds of which flora could create both states of existence. These earlier green witches, while often respected, were more often feared or mistrusted because of the knowledge they held. They were often marginalized by their communities and lived alone or away from the social center of the community. Even today, society is often uncomfortable with those who possess knowledge not held by the common person.

It is also likely, however, that the spiritual ancestors of the modern green witch chose to live apart from the center of the community because it is harder to hear what nature has to communicate to you when you are surrounded by people. Being closer to the forests and fields made it easier for the cunning-folk to commune with the energies of the living world of green and to gather what they needed.

Practitioners of folk magic, those who live on the second branch of the green witch’s family tree, are not necessarily separate from the first. Sometimes the healers were also spellcasters who performed folk magic particular to the region (such as Pennsylvanian pow-wow), but more often they were just grandmothers who had a talent for “fixing” things. Folk magic is composed of traditions and practices that have been handed down in a geographic or culturally specific area. It generally focuses on divination for love and marriage, agricultural success, and weather prediction.

Owen Davies, the author of the fascinating Cunning-Folk: Popular Magic in English History, explains that as opposed to being healers, cunning-folk originally dealt mainly with lifting bewitchments from people who believed themselves to be the victims of a curse or of some sort of spell. Witchcraft was the soil in which the careers of the cunning-folk grew; when popular belief in witchcraft ended, the roles of the cunning-folk ended as well.

#witchcraft #green witch #witchblr #beginner witch

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alarawriting · 4 years

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Inktober 2020 #5/Writeober 2020 #1: Blade

I have a feeling this might be based on a Tumblr prompt but I can’t remember where or when...

***

Aster finished haggling with the merchant for tomatoes, and turned, certain that someone was watching her. There was an old woman standing in the center of the market way, looking directly at Aster, and there was something strange about her – aside from the gray braid that went down to her knees, given that the old women Aster knew cut their hair short to make it easier to keep it, since they were going to put a kerchief over it anyway. After a moment, Aster isolated it – no one was looking at the woman. No one was looking away from her either. It was as if no one in the market could see her, aside from Aster.

She went on to the merchant selling cauliflower, broccoli and beans. The old woman followed her, and now she was closer. There was still no one else looking at the woman, but they all stepped out of her way, casually, as if they just felt like bending their path slightly.

Finally, Aster went to a tree on the side of the market, and waited. The old woman strolled over to her. “You’re Aster Sennadotter? Daughter of Canlon the Eater of Fire?”

“Who wants to know?” Aster asked. Mom and Dad had been heroes, once upon a time. Some of those who’d know that Dad was the legendary Fire-Eater were those who’d have nothing but praise for him and his deeds. Some… were not.

“I’m an old friend of your father’s. Has he never told you of the wizard Enteleki?”

Aster’s eyes went wide. “That’s you?” She looked the tiny, ancient woman up and down. “I thought you’d be taller.”

“Many say that. Tell me, has your father trained you in the blade?”

The phrasing was a little weird; it took Aster a moment to realize that Enteleki meant trained her to use blades, in general. “Mom taught me some dagger work. Throwing, mostly, but some up close, for self defense. Dad hasn’t taught me anything.” She abruptly realized how that sounded. “Anything like that. I mean, he taught me how to fish and ride a horse and identify weeds and things like that. But nothing about blades.”

“So you’ve never learned to use the Sword of the Eater?”

“Are you kidding?” Aster laughed disbelievingly. “I’ve never even seen it. Dad said it was lost after he defeated the last of the Servants of the Phoenix.”

“It wasn’t,” Enteleki said. “He’s still got it. He must have hidden it from you.”

Aster shrugged. “He probably had good reasons. He’s done adventuring, he says. He just wants to live on the farm and grow our crops in peace.”

Enteleki shook her head. “Short-sighted. Of course, he’s done adventuring, no one would expect a man his age, with a family and a farm, to go on a quest. But the thought never entered his mind that the world might need you, did it?”

“Why would the world need me? My mom and dad may have been heroes, but I’m just a farm girl.”

“Your father was a farm boy before he was a hero. Your mother, the granddaughter of the village wisewoman. They were nothing special, before destiny called them.” She leaned heavily on her staff. “Just as it’s calling you now.”

“Why me?”

“You’ll figure it out. Just know for now that you are your father’s daughter. Ask him for the sword and prepare to leave. Or the Lady of Light will destroy everything – including your town, including your farm.”

Aster scowled. “I’ve never heard of her, but, generally speaking, why would someone named the Lady of Light be evil?”

Enteleki looked up into her eyes, and it felt like the old woman was a hawk, sizing Aster up as prey. “Phoenixes are creatures associated with life and rebirth; why would evil people call themselves the Servants of the Phoenix? Evil people lie, Aster. And they lie to themselves, and tell themselves they are good, perhaps that they are the only good ones in the world. Battles are never between good and evil. They are between those who seek to cause harm, even though they may think they are doing what is best for everyone, and those who seek to mitigate or stop the harm, or to make something that helps come to pass.”

“Okay, but… if evil people think they’re doing what’s best, and good people think they’re doing what’s best… how do you tell which is which?”

Enteleki barked laughter, sharp and hard. “How indeed. But the Servants of the Phoenix were burning the wisewomen, claiming that those who followed the ways of the Phoenix would have eternal life, and wouldn’t need wisewomen to heal them, and therefore wisewomen were evil because they tempted people away from the righteous path of the Phoenix. Tell me, was anyone ever good because they burned healers to death?”

“No,” Aster said firmly. Her own mother was a wisewoman, just as her great-grandmother had been. “All of that sounds wrong. I mean… why would you have to worship the Phoenix? What if you have a different god? And even if you did worship the Phoenix… no one ever said the worshippers of the Phoenix come back to life, only the Phoenix itself. And even if you were going to come back to life, why would you not want willowbark for a headache, or a poultice if you get injured? Phoenixes come back to life by dying in fire first. You’re not going to set yourself on fire if you strained your leg.”

“And that is why your father had to defeat them, with the help of your mother and their friends. The Lady of Light claims that she will drive out the darkness, and bring enlightenment. But her idea of ‘darkness’ includes men drinking in pubs and tossing dice, women brewing beer, people telling stories where anything happens that involves an evil act even if the evil act is done by the villain of the piece, men and women who love their own sex, and people who join in love before marriage even if they’re betrothed. As well as many other things. She sees our land as steeped in sin, and she wants to conquer us and burn out the ‘sins’ of the people… by setting fire to their homes and farms, if necessary, and for some reason she always finds it necessary.”

“Okay… yeah, that does sound pretty evil. But how do I know you’re telling the truth? Maybe you’re an evil wizard and this Lady of Light person is actually great and you’re lying to me.”

Enteleki smiled. “Your parents taught you to question. That’s very good. A skill that will serve you, in life. But the answer is, firstly, your parents know me, so you can ask them if I am trustworthy in the things I say. Secondly, you can go deeper into town and give the crier a coin and ask them to tell you everything they know about the Lady of Light, and my suspicion is, they’ll back up what I’ve said, because there aren’t many of her followers around here – which is why she wants to burn it all. Ask a few women at the washer-well what they’ve heard. Ask your parents if they know anything about it. And then take everything you’ve heard, and use your own judgement to decide who’s right.”

“All right,” Aster said. “I will.”

Beginning with telling Mom and Dad all about this.

***

Canlon Shreveson, called by some the Fire-Eater, stormed out of his house in a fury, grabbed his horse, and rode down the dirt path outside his property far enough that he knew neither his daughter nor his wife would see or hear any of it. He dismounted, and yelled, “Enteleki!”

There was no guarantee she would come just because he’d said her name. Wizards weren’t summonable. They showed up when they wanted to. But he suspected Enteleki would want to, and he was not disappointed. One moment there was nothing at the edge of the forest, and in the next, there was an old woman wrapped in a cloak.

She hadn’t changed at all. Most old women, if they didn’t die between the time you first became a man and the time you were settled with a farm and a wife and a teenage daughter, became frailer, more wrinkled. Thinner, usually. Sometimes smaller. Enteleki looked exactly the same as when he’d last seen her, nearly twenty years ago.

“What in seven hells are you trying to do with my daughter?”

“I’d think it’d be obvious,” Enteleki said. “You’re in no shape to go kill the Lady of Light, or even stop her, and you’re not the right one for the job anyway. Your daughter is.”

“My daughter is the Chosen One for some new damned quest to stop some other monstrous person from causing death and chaos. Am I hearing this correctly?”

“Yes.”

“No,” Canlon said, almost roaring it, in the tiny woman’s face. “NO! Aster is fifteen. Fifteen, damn you! She’s not even old enough to get married!”

“Senna was sixteen.”

“Senna was our healer. We tried to keep her out of the fighting as best as we could. And I don’t know what you told her grandmother to let her come with us, but whatever it was, I suspect she cursed you to have the eternal crows pick your bones when she realized what you’d sent a child into. I was too young then to realize how wrong it was for Senna to go with us… and Senna was a year older than Aster is now.”

“Do you think I do this for fun?” Enteleki glared up at him. “Do you think I send children into battle out of love for their parents’ distress? Just once I would like to find that the Chosen One is twenty-six and an experienced mercenary, thank you. But no. You were eighteen when the bones and the ashes told me you were the one. And forty years before you were born, it was a girl of thirteen years, and I did my best to protect her as best I could, but she wasn’t as fortunate as you. She lived, but there was darkness behind her eyes all her life, and she took it finally, three years after you were born. And before her, there was Melen the Rogue, who was seventeen then. I don’t know why it’s always children. I don’t know why we need to have heroes at all – why can’t ordinary people taking up arms do what must be done? But it’s always the same – so much more war, so much more death, if the child heroes don’t go up against the evil of the day. Maybe the world would eventually prevail and become a bright and loving place again, but there would be so many dead, so many made displaced refugees.”

Enteleki had never spoken to Canlon this way before. She’d seemed so encouraging, so strong, when he was young. It had honestly never occurred to him that any part of what she did might bother her. “And so you need to sacrifice my daughter so that hundreds can live in peace.”

“Yes.”

“No! Not my daughter. Not this time.”

Enteleki’s eyes narrowed. “You know well that if the Lady of Light isn’t stopped, this whole land will burn. Your farm as well, and your neighbors’. You know that if the duke musters an army against her in time, which is unlikely in itself, your farm may be burned by your own countrymen so that the Army of Light can’t resupply here. Are those good fates for your daughter?”

“No. But she shouldn’t be the one.” Canlon took a deep breath. “I’m experienced. I know how to wield the Blade of the Eater. She’s never held a sword in her hands before. I’ve done this before and I can do it again. I’ll be the one to fight the Lady of Light, so that Aster can stay safe.”

Enteleki shook her head sadly. “You’re not the one. You’ll fail. Aster’s the one who can succeed.”

“My daughter is not taking up my blade – that she has no idea how to use – and going to war. End of story. I’ll go. And if I fall, at least I’ll fall knowing I was protecting my daughter.”

“Which will reassure her greatly when she becomes an orphan.”

“You can’t stop me, Enteleki. I know you. You can’t take my sword from me; I’d have to give it to you for you to give it to Aster, and I won’t. I’ll take it with me to challenge the Lady of Light. Now you can fight by my side and maybe make it less likely that I’ll fall, or you can get out of my way.”

“I won’t stand in your way,” Enteleki said, almost sadly. “And I’ll do what I can to help you. But it won’t be enough. You will fall, and then either Aster will take up your blade, or this land will burn.”

“We’ll see about that,” Canlon said.

#inktober 2020 #writeober 2020 #alara's october 2020 prompt fics #fantasy

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bookmama · 5 years

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🌊Book Review🌊

“These were simple people: when someone told them that they had nothing to fear they knew that they were in trouble.” Thank you @netgalley and @atriabooks for the ARE of Tidelands by Philippa Gregory! This was my first book that I had ever read by the author and I LOVED it. If you are looking for a historical fiction that will absolutely transport you to another time and place, then this is it. It will also make you appreciate not having lived the experience of being a woman during the 1600’s.

Synopsis from the publisher: Midsummer’s Eve, 1648, England is in the grip of a civil war between renegade king and rebellious parliament. The struggle reaches every corner of the kingdom, even the remote tidelands —the marshy landscape of the south coast. Alinor, a descendant of wisewomen, trapped in poverty and superstition, waits in the graveyard under the full moon for a ghost who will declare her free from her abusive husband. Instead, she meets James, a young man on the run, and shows him the secret ways across the treacherous marsh, not knowing that she is leading disaster into the heart of her life. Suspected of possessing dark secrets in superstitious times, Alinor’s ambition and determination mark her out from her neighbors. This is the time of witch mania, and Alinor, a woman without a husband, skilled with herbs, suddenly enriched, arouses envy in her rivals and fear among the villagers, who are ready to take lethal action into their own hands. It is dangerous for a woman to be different.

I absolutely fell in love with main character Alinor and am excited to see where this story goes next as it. Is book one in a new series. This was my first book by Philippa Gregory but now I want to go back and read all of her other books! Have you read this one or any of her books? Which were your favorites?⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

#philippa gregory #tidelands #atria books #netgalley #book review #bookstagram #bookish #bookworm #booklr

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grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales · 6 years

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Hey! I'm the anon from slavicafire's blog asking about Yugoslav witchcraft traditions. I;m a child of recent immigrants from the ex-yugo regions and I'm trying to reconnect w/ my roots. Could you give me a very basic outline of simple traditions that might be common from the region? Hvala puno (:

Hi anon! Glad to see somebody interested in our traditions, that is always amazing. I hope this helps you.

Disclaimer, I’m not professional. This is just stuff pulled out of my own amateur research and love for balkan lore. Anybody with better understanding please pitch in.

First, to reiterate what likely everybody told you, Slavic traditions are very variable and unique, depending on which country you are looking at. While there is obviously much similar things, not all Balkan countries have same lore. So I would suggest looking up where your ancestors are from, and then digging in research ( sometimes there are differences even between like, villages in same country, which makes things both beautiful and amazing and irritating and bothersome).

Second, I am sorry to say that information can be kinda hard to come across when searching for Balkan sources. As result of most countries being ‘’still in development’’, (at least when compared to West), decades of communist regime which didn’t care much for spirituality, big influence of Christian church and being kinda small in population, there isn’t lots of people interested in such things, at least not openly. There has thankfully been revival and rise of interest in last years but ah still takes lots of work to find like minded people. You should have some luck searching through Tumblr and Reddit.

Rest of info under cut, keep on read more so we wouldn’t bother people with big wall of text.

Now, I want to say ( in case you aren’t already aware, in which case excuse me and forgive for taking up your time) that if you do research in Serbian or Croatian for veštica you will most likely come upon fantasy books, fairy tales and such. More folkloric stuff will talk about things like selling your soul to Devil, eating hearts of your family, soul leaving your body to do misdeeds and similar. Rather interesting stuff, which could be used for interesting if little dark path, but less easy to put in practice and being generally very Christian story about evil monsters ( I assume you can’t leave your body in shape of moth so you would cut up your neighbors and relatives and eat their insides but hey what do I know, that might work for you). If you are interested in hearing about that though please send me ask again!

What I assume you are looking for, and is generally much more likely to be practiced ( today too in some villages) are činjarice and vračare. These words while literally meaning something like charm-doer/maker and similar, are more like village wisewomen, cunning folk and similar, people who practiced mixture of magic, medicine, old Slavic lore and Christian beliefs, midwifery and superstitions. If you ask your parents, grandparents, relatives and similar, I’m sure they would be able to tell you of encountering or at very least hearing about at least one weird old woman who claimed to be able to read your fortune, help with fertility, protect you against evil eye… If you ever meet such old woman, remember they will most likely be very insulted if you call them witch. Some wouldn’t even call their workings magical, and many are very intensively Christian.

So, some advice which I hope will be useful. Traditionally those women (and probably some men, though I didn’t hear of it happening. Probably happened but people don’t like talking about such things because people are dumb) worked alone. I assume one witch was enough for one village. This doesn’t mean that you can’t join a coven or work with friends and learn from others, simply that solitary path is open to you and that lots of those witches worked on their own, combining superstition, tips passed to them from others and their own knowledge and thoughts. There is no hard tradition to stick to, you can freely experiment, and don’t listen to people who say you need witch’s blood or some nonsense like that. You only need your will and heart and what works for you.

Then, remember those people lived in villages and most likely worked at farm, in fields, with cattle.. They likely lived together with their families ( unless they were of course widows with no nearby relatives or spinsters). Point is, they didn’t have fancy stuff, because they had to take acre of cows and dung and carrots, so you shouldn’t feel bad about not buying athames, wands, cauldrons and such if you can’t or don’t want. You can repurpose normal ordinary stuff around you in magical tools. As Granny Weatherwax would say, witch can use kitchen knife to do magic and make a bread. Some would argue it is still good to have separate tools for magic, or regularly cleanse and charge your cutlery so energy wouldn’t get too muddled, and that is good approach too. Look what works for you. Suggestions for tools: mirrors, candles, knives, threads,stones, scissors.

If you want to get ideas for how to incorporate everyday things in your practice, look up tag cottage witchcraft, or hearth witchcraft, which is based on idea of making your home practices in magic. Remember that you don’t need to define yourself as anything but witch, or even that, if you don’t want. Think of ways how your passions and talents could be used as outlet for witchcraft. Sing your spells, paint your sigils, however you want. Balkan witches let their craft go out through ordinary stuff too.

Research herb lore! Living in villages and near woods Slavic witches always worked closely with herbs. That seems to generally be witch thing, as herbs were for long time basis of spices and medicine. Research what herbs you can get your hands on (spices and weeds are easiest I’d say) can be used for, both magically and as teas, tinctures and similar ( remember that herbs should never be used instead of actual medication, and that you don’t need to bother with them if you don’t want to). Some starting points-generally, oak is associated with Perun, strength, protection and ancestors and was heavily respected and venerated. Walnut is associated with darkness, death, misfortune and evil witches and spirits so I’d say it would for example be good for curses. Hawthorn was used as means of protection against demonic spirits and evil creatures, especially vampires.

Research correspondences! People for example believed that certain workings should be undertaken only on certain days, such as holy days of saints, or that magic was best to be done on Friday. Water has different powers depending on day and place it was taken- frozen water or melted ice is used for spells of forgetting, but generally water is used for healing and purification, though time and place and way you collect it can charge it differently. Salt is of course as always amazing for protection and cleansing. Colours are also good start- black for death darkness misfortune, red for life and protection especially against spirits, white for purity cleansing contact with dead and positive energy and so on. Some things require really weird steps. For example to protect yourself from plague you needed to pull over yourself a shirt made by several naked old woman outside during Saturday night ( which I hope you will never need, and have serious doubts for how successful it would be)… If you are in for more ritualistic path it may work for you.

Spells, often called bajalice ( I’m not sure how to translate, except it vaguely means something like murmured song, or chant I think) were either passed down, picked from folklore, or straight up invented. They consisted of several lines and often rhymed, in fact many of them sound like nursery rhymes. Some are full of seemingly nonsenses, others call upon saints.

They also often had psychical component, a piece of paper, poppet, anything…Those were used as anchors for spell, and if you were casting for other person, closer those objects were to them spell worked better. Good luck and blessings were often in form of amulets person carried on themselves, curses often required burning object or burying it in victim’s backyard.

As with all witchcraft I’d say, sympathetic magic is one of basics. Hair, nails, blood, names, images, all those are often necesarry to work magic upon another. Be careful what is done with yours.

There is strong focus on body with Balkan witchcraft (especially hair). If you feel comfortable explore it, learn about it. Your body is wonderful and reveling in it can be very beneficial not just for magic but for your health, in flesh and mind both. Just stay away from things talking about stuff like putting menstrual blood in potions or anything unsafe. If you want to explore blood magic take care. Just cutting or pricking yourself isn’t good at all.

Look out for superstitions. Most of them contain ritualistic roots. Think and ask why they are done, and how can they be used in practice. Knock on wood for good luck or to prevent bad things, it calls out to spirits. Pinkie and index finger pointed on person is used for casting curses of evil eye variety. And so on…

You don’t have to work with dead, but as amazing zmija already mentioned, there is always something undead. Graveyard dirt is powerful. Look out for ghosts and similar creatures. If you want, try to connect to ancestors or tend to graveyards. Forty days after birth and death are when such forces are most active. Our dead are always with us, and those who have passed on often frequent and play with those who replaced them.

Treat nature well. Remember that it is full of spirits ( some of which may be similar to undead-is rusalka a water nymph or drowned girl, domovoi entirely spiritual caretaker of home or ghost of distant ancestor ). Try to connect with them, to reach out if you feel safe. Dragons, vampires, fairies ( zmey, vampies/upyrsi, vilas in english sources) were most important to Balkans, as well as creatures of wilds like snakes and wolves.

Spaces American side of tumblr would call liminal are important. Thresholds, crossroads and watermills are folklorically connected with magic a lot.

Balkan Traditional Witchcraft by Radomir Ristic from what I heard is very good book, if little awkward to read as it is translated in English. Journal for the Academic Study of Magic from what I have heard has some stuff on South Slavic magic in issue 2 and parts of it are put up online, such as The Human Body in Southern Slavic Folk Sorcery Andrija Filipovic and Anne M. Rader. Solvenska Mitologija ( The Slavic Mythology) by Nenad Gajić is great start if you want easy to understand and comprehensive list of Slavic creatures, beliefs, lore and so but I don’t know if you can find it out of Balkans. Belgrade publishing house Metaphysica also apparently has some stuff, no idea if it is good.

If you know Serbian or Croatian, I would suggest websitehttp://www.starisloveni.com/index.html, which is pagan site and also has forum (you need to be registered though). I have also found several threads of that topic on https://forum.krstarica.com/ and https://www.ana.rs/forum/ though they require digging, especially for good stuff. Site is also bit less modern. I have recently came upon https://thewitchandwalnut.wordpress.com/, a Wordpress blog of Balkan witch from Canada which seems very informative. @everett-the-mage is very awesome blog with lots of content on Croatian folk magic and lovely Etsy shop and lots of recommendations for reading.

I hope this helps at least a little! Good luck with your journey!

#slavic mythology #slavic folklore #paganism #slavic paganism #balkans

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phenomenalgems · 5 years

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❤️ Today is the two year anniversary of losing my friend Jeanne Lavender, who I was privileged to know and work with for over a decade. Jeanne was the funniest, most authentic person I have ever met, the original black magic woman, and she taught me a lot about life. Like all of the elder wisewomen, Jeanne was the keeper of the secrets and memories of our shop, and she told me amazing and hilarious stories about Greenwich Village in the 60s, Boulder in the 70s, and beyond. I feel so very fortunate to have had the time and memories with her that I did. When I think of her, I think of helping others, respecting nature and the goddess in yourself and others, and living your truth—and that’s quite a legacy to leave behind. ❤️ #lavenderproject #lavender #rip #gonebutnotforgotten #legacy #home #family #loved #pastandfuture #blackmagicwoman #missed #thosewhohavepassed #honoreddead #memories #elloro #phenomenalgems https://www.instagram.com/p/Bv4ZhPSH00q/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1bevx4psk4hle

#lavenderproject #lavender #rip #gonebutnotforgotten #legacy #home #family #loved #pastandfuture #blackmagicwoman #missed #thosewhohavepassed #honoreddead #memories #elloro #phenomenalgems

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shanastoryteller · 7 years

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she is the snow queen

there is a summer queen, a fae by the name raveena, who lives in a place of warmth, and bright colors, and laughter. although the world she lives in is not perfect, is not always easy or good or fair, she does not allow that to touch her. she is a woman of pure heart, who believes in kindness, in forgiveness. raveena rides the backs of elephants and touches flowers to make them bloom, she brings fireflies into the world so that people can find light even in darkness. she coaxes banyan trees into being, and carefully arranges their canopy of leaves so the light would shine through in beautiful patterns. people sing to her and pray to her, people believe in the hope and beauty their summer queen brings to them.

one day, deep in the forest, a tiger known as bhanu finds her. tigers always know where to find her. “there is a girl lost in the forest,” he says, “she’s crying, and so much too salty to eat, but she hurts my ears.”

“i see,” raveena says seriously, knowing better than to smile, “well, then, i suppose i must go help her.”

bhanu huffs and raises its head in the air, “if you wish, summer queen.”

she finds the child, a scrap of a girl with a mass of unruly hair and bony knees, and kneels beside her. she’s stopped crying, looking at raveena with wide eyes. “hello,” the summer queen says, “i think you may be lost. would you like me to take you home?”

she shakes her head, “no, please don’t! i can’t go back.”

raveena takes the girl’s hands in her own, and has to resist the urge to flinch. it’s the height of summer, heat hangs heavy and wet in the air, but the girl’s hands are freezing. “why? is someone hurting you? are you in trouble? i can help.”

she shakes her head again, “no, no please – i am anika, and i came here to die. you must let me!”

“to die?” raveena asks, shocked. “you are much too young to die! you must let me help.”

the girl tugs at her sari, and she shows the queen her chest. there’s a small piece, about the size of her thumb, that is like crystal, iced over and twinkling in the light of the sun. it would be beautiful if it wasn’t so grotesque. “my little sister was ill, she was born with a hole in heart. and my parents cried and cried, and told me she would not live to grow up. but i wanted her to live! so i gave her a piece of my heart to fill that hole. it worked, and she’s getting better! but it was a cold night, and ice found its way into my heart, and it keeps on growing. i’ll die once it covers my heart. i do not want my parents to cry more, so i came to this forest.” she looks up at the banyan trees, “i wanted to die somewhere beautiful, somewhere my parents couldn’t find me.”

raveena is moved by the little girl’s story, this brave, foolish girl, and she says, “you must return to your parents, but it wont be so you can die. i will melt the ice from your heart, and you will live to grow with your little sister.”

the summer queen presses her hand against the small patch of ice on the girl’s chest, and carefully applies heat, as delicate in this as when she paints the designs on the butterflies’ wings. it works, and the ice is gone. but when she removes her hand, ice sticks to her palm, and for the first time in her life, she feels cold.

anika is crying again, asking for the ice back, offering her own heart yet again, but the summer queen won’t hear of it. she summons the same tiger that had told her of the girl, and instructs him to guide the girl back home.

as the days past, raveena tries everything, but nothing she does can get the ice to stop spreading. near the end, she pulls her own heart from chest, and thinks it looks beautiful like this, glimmering and shining in the sun. the last of the flesh of her heart hardens, and shifts. she holds a ruby in her hand, and her life is gone. as her life leaves her, the ruby falls from hands, and shatters on the ground.

she looks up, so her last sight can be of the sun shining through a canopy of banyan trees.

gerda is a simple village girl. she has a best friend named kai, and they grow up together and fall in love together, and gerda is convinced they are destined to do everything together for the rest of their lives. but one day, in the thick of winter, kai slips and falls. this is not so remarkable, for he has slipped and fallen may times.

but this time a sliver of ice gets stuck in his eye. it hurts, but he doesn’t bleed. he looks in the reflective pond, and there is a red speck in his eye. he tries to get it out, but it seems as if he only manages to push it in further.

kai changes after that. he’s no longer the kind boy whom gerda loves. he grows cruel, seemingly for no reason at all. he doesn’t care for his grandmother’s garden, doesn’t play with the neighborhood children, rejects and rebuffs gerda whenever she tries to help him, to talk to him.

he goes wandering in the forest one night, even though there’s a snowstorm and he can barely see a foot in front of him. he never returns.

gerda mourns. kai may have changed in the end, but he was still the boy she had grown up loving, still the man she’d intended to marry. she is unable to accept that the love of her young life is gone forever, so she goes marching into the forest, determined to find him. she treks through the snow for days, but finds no sign of him. she’s just beginning to despair when she happens upon a cottage. she knocks on the door, and an old woman with silver hair and eyes answers. “hello,” gerda says, “i’m looking for my friend. he is very tall with dark skin and hair, and his name is kai. can you help me?”

“of course,” the old woman says, “i am a sorceress, and i can find anything. come inside, come inside.”

gerda goes inside, and is instantly warm, the snowflakes clinging to her melting and dripping away. she looks out the windows, and doesn’t understand. she came here in the dark, in the snow, but outside the sorceress’s windows shines a high sun, and a bright summer. her garden is flush with colorful flowers, and she can’t help it – gerda runs out the back door, sure this has to be a trick, an illusion. but she steps outside and the sun remains, and she gently touches the petals of the flowers, and it’s as real as she is.

the sorceress scries for kai, and she finds him. “oh dear,” the sorceress says, “he’s a servant in the snow queen’s court. best to forget about him, child. he’s gone now.”

gerda knows of the snow queen. she appeared like an early frost when her grandmother was young, a pale woman with dark eyes and white hair. she lived in the mountains, and gerda was warned never to venture there, lest the snow queen ate her whole. she was told the snow queen was like the winter – beautiful, uncaring, and powerful.

“i have to find her!” she cries, “please, can you tell me how to get to the snow queen’s castle?”

the sorceress looks at her sadly, then says, “this is for the best, i promise. those who pursue the snow queen only find misfortune.” she reaches for her, hand glowing, intent on erasing kai from gerda’s memories. gerda tries to run, but she can’t find anywhere to run to, and the sorceress’s hand reaches ever closer.

there’s a slam as the front door bounces open, letting in flurry of snow and ice into the warmth of cottage. a woman stands there, not quite old, but with lines just settling into her face. there’s a sturdiness to her, a sureness, that only comes with the passing of years. she has skin the color of fawns in spring, and a frowning, disagreeable mouth. “they said a woman who controlled summer lived here,” she says, stepping into the sorceress’s cottage. “but this is no summer.”

“please!” gerda cries, “help me! she means to take away my memories!”

“it’s for her own good,” the sorceress says, “she pursues someone who can never be saved. it will be her doom!”

a smirk curl’s the edge of the woman’s lip. “oh, i know a thing or two about pursuing an unsavable person. if it’s to be her doom, so be it. but it is her choice, crone, and not yours.”

the sorceress looks as if she wants to argue, but at that moment there’s a deep growl that reverberates through the cottage. behind the woman steps a massive animal with glowing eyes and barred teeth, covered in snow. it shakes itself off, and it’s only then that gerda sees it’s a tiger. she’s never seen one in person before, but she didn’t think they were this big.

“fine!” the sorceress spits, “on both your heads, be it!”

“there,” the woman says. “now no one is taking your memories. you better leave with me, in case she changes her mind once my back is turned.”

gerda hurries after the woman, carefully skirting around the snarling tiger. “please!” she says, “can you help me? i’m trying to find my friend, kai, and he’s been captured by the snow queen.”

“sorry,” she says, “i’m looking for my own someone, and i’ve travelled a long way from home to find them. i can’t help you find yours.”

gerda grabs the woman’s hand, struggling to keep her grip with her mittens. “please! i love him very much, and i miss him, and i need to bring him home. no one dare approaches the snow queen’s court, and i don’t know how to get there on my own. please!”

the woman meets her gaze and stares at her for a long time. then she gives a great sigh and says, “oh, look at your young eyes! i suppose i can help. i get the impression you’ll get into a world of trouble if i leave you to your own devices.”

relief sweeps through gerda, making her weak. “thank you, thank you so much!”

“i am madhubala,” the woman says, then pats the massive tiger on his flank, “and this is bhanu. where might we find someone who knows where this snow queen’s court is?”

they go to many hedwitches and wisewomen, none of whom can tell them where to go. they say the mountains, but madhubala insists that’s not enough to go on, that venturing into the hundreds upon hundreds of miles of mountainside with no clear sense of direction will only end misery or death. so they keep searching.

gerda asks madhubala who she’s searching for, hoping that she’ll be able to help. but madhubala only shakes her head. “every dayaan i’ve spoken to says she’s here, that this is the land to which she fled. and daayani are often malevolent, but they are also rarely wrong. she must be here, but if you have to ask – you must not know her.”

“but who is she?” gerda presses.

the giant tiger rubs up against gerda’s back, and she reaches up to scratch the massive beast behind his ears, right where he likes it. “you might as well tell her,” bhanu rumbles, shocking gerda into stillness. she hadn’t known the beast could talk! “she’s a trustworthy girl, and pure of heart.”

madhubala sighs and reaches beneath her heavy coat. she takes out a silk bag, made from all the colors of the rainbow, and slowly undoes the string. in her hand is a ruby, and it somehow sparkles even in the weak light. however, riddled through it are what looks like spider web fine cracks. “i was born with a hole in my heart, and so my sister found a dayaan who could give me some of her heart. it worked, but it left her heart vulnerable, and when a chill swept through our village it became infected with ice. she ran away from home, but was found by our summer queen, a fae of exceptional power. she saved my sister’s life, but the ice infected her too, and she couldn’t stop it.” she gently places the ruby in gerda’s hand. “this is her heart. it froze, and shattered into a thousand pieces. you and me can’t live without our hearts, but she could. they say she changed without her heart, and ran far away from home. my sister and i have spent our whole lives collecting the shards and reconstructing her heart, but there’s still a piece missing,” madhubala shifts the ruby, and points out the tiniest chip in one corner.

“how did you find the shards?” gerda asks, fascinated.

“pieces of a fae’s frozen heart can only do harm to mortals. there were people who came upon them, and tried to barter or control them, and were taken under it’s thrall. there were innocent people, who happened upon them, and were changed utterly. both became the worst sort of person, so that’s what we pursued – terrible, horrible people, who may have been infected by a shard of the queen’s heart.” she nudges gerda and cracks a smile, “it turns out lots of horrible people are just horrible. but, sometimes, it was the shards. we’ve looked all over, for years and years, but we can’t find the last piece. it will have to be enough. we think, maybe, if we return her heart, then maybe our summer queen will be able to come home. and if not – well, she’ll know that we didn’t forget her, and that we tried.”

gerda is crying at the end, hurrying to wipe at her tears before they freeze on her face. “that’s so sad! and so kind!”

“raveena was a kind woman,” bhanu says, “i don’t know what she’s become. but who she was would have appreciated the kindness, the effort.”

they keep traveling, and asking, and finally they catch a break. a crow happens upon them, and says there is a prince who reigns over the mountains and its people. they say he knows the snow queen, and has an alliance with her. they say he sends her babies to gobble up, so she won’t eat any of his people. “that’s horrible!” gerda says, twisting her hands together, “who would do something so awful?”

“maybe he has the last shard,” madhubala says, “or maybe he’s just an awful prince. either way, he’s the only lead we have.”

it takes days upon days of climbing to get to the mountain prince’s castle, and gerda fears her legs will snap in half from the strain. halfway there, madhubala puts her on bhanu’s back, and he carries her the rest of the way up.

they get to the castle, and guards bar their way in. “are you here for the contest?”

“what contest?” madhubala snaps, looking very much like she’d like to grab the guard’s sword and skewer him through with it.

“she looks like she’s here for the contest,” one of them says, looking to gerda huddled up against bhanu’s side. “she’s pretty, and young, and slight. she’d make for a nice princess.”

“we’re here to see the prince,” gerda says, summoning a smile for the guards.

they shrug, “if you win the contest, then you can see the prince.”

“what’s the contest then?” madhubala asks.

“our highness cannot ascend the throne without a bride,” he says. “but he’s refused all the noble ladies. instead he seeks a clever woman to rule by his side, saying he’s not very clever himself. if you can pass three tests of cleverness, you win the prince’s hand and a throne.”

gerda despairs. she’ll never win! she is only a village girl, and has never had any need of cleverness. and if she doesn’t win, they won’t be able to speak to the prince, and they’ll never find the snow queen, and kai will be lost forever! and besides, she’s not interested in being a princess anyway. she doesn’t think they let princesses work in gardens.

“very well,” madhubala says, and gerda turns to her to tell her it’s a waste, “i accept. i will face your tests.”

the guards look at madhubala dubiously. “our prince is a young man,” one says carefully, “and you are, um, not.”

“i am not a young man, that is correct,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “i don’t particularly care for a throne, they’re all so uncomfortable. but if the only way to speak to the prince is to win this silly contest, then i suppose i have no choice.”

“it’s not so easy as that, no one has beaten it yet,” the guard warns, opening the door to let them in.

“everything happens for the first time,” she says airily, and into the palace they go.

it’s so much warmer than any place they’ve been, and soon gerda is shedding layers like a snake skin, carefully piling them atop bhanu. madhubala looks dubiously to a waiting attendant, then says, “do not lose it, it was quite difficult to find in my home country.”

she undoes the clasps to her dark, heavy coat and hands it off, then another, then another. when she is done, gerda can’t help but gasp and look on in wonder.

she wears flowy light pants in a light blue, dotted with what looks like sparkling jewels and edged in gold. she has a matching dark blue tunic that goes nearly to her knees, a long scarf the same color as her pants wrapped around her neck, and a half dozen golden bracelets on each arm. gerda had thought madhubala had short hair, but now she can see it’s just pinned up. madhubala untwists her hair, and a heavy, messy braid falls down her back. she undoes it, running her fingers through her hair so it falls like a heavy black waterfall over shoulders down to her hips.

gerda thinks that the guards were wrong. she thinks that madhubala looks an awful lot like a princess.

they’re shuffled to the next room for the first test, and it contains ten ancient riddles. just hearing them makes gerda’s head hurt, but madhubala frowns, and taps her fingers against her arm, and mutters to herself. then, one after another, she gives her answers. one by one, she is told she’s correct.

next, she is presented with a set of numbers, and a scenario. a terrible storm has swept through the mountains, and many villages have lost their food supply. how can the royal stores be best redistributed?

madhubala needs scratch paper for this one. she spends a long time writing and scanning the map and comparing. finally, she presents three solutions. she says that she did not know enough about populations for the various villages, so these three solutions are dependent on the amount of elderly and children in each village. she is told all of her solutions are viable.

everyone is looking at her in wonder now. gerda gets the impression that no one has ever gotten this far before.

the final test is a game of chess, and gerda wrings her hands and frets, but it’s a wasted effort. madhubala beats the old man soundly, and when he looks from her to the board in confusion, she only smirks and says, “we should play chaturanga sometime.”

the old man blinks, then breaks out in a smile. “i am looking forward to it, your highness.”

they’re whisked away after that, everyone whispering and pointing as they walk past. they’re brought to the throne room, and sitting there is the prince.

he looks to be not much older than gerda. he’s got the brightest blue eyes gerda has ever seen, and a wide smile. “you did it!” he says, striding forward. he takes madhubala’s hands, something she wasn’t expecting by the way her eyes widen. “finally, i had almost given up hope – but here you are! a clever queen for my people!”

“prince,” she says.

“call me enok,” he interrupts, “you are to be my bride and my princess, and then crowned as queen when i am crowned as king. it is only right that you call me by my given name.”

“enok,” she says, “i did not come here to be your bride. i am not even of this land.” she explains their predicament, and the smile slides from prince enok’s face.

he doesn’t let go of madhubala’s hands. “are you truly so against being my bride? the sunsets here are quite beautiful, and we have excellent woodcarvers. anything it is within my power to give you, you shall have.”

“i am a little old for you, enok,” she says, “perhaps you would benefit from a younger bride?”

he tugs her closer, and wraps an arm around her waist. gerda fears for the prince’s safety, but madhubala is blushing, and bhanu looks incredibly entertained, and not like he’s getting ready to rip the prince’s throat out. “i do not want a young bride. i want a clever bride. that you are as beautiful as the first bloom of spring does not hurt, however.”

“i am looking for someone,” she says, swallowing, “well, two someones, really. If, after I find them, you still desire me as a bride – I will accept.”

“excellent!” he says, spinning her around. then his faces smooths into seriousness. “you do not plan to harm the snow queen, do you? i know you believe she has taken your friend, but that does not sound like the queen i know.”

“do you not feed her babies to get keep her at bay?” gerda asks, then winces and adds, “sir! uh, your highness, i mean.”

he laughs. “not exactly. oh, what a rumor! there are children that are born ill, or become ill late in life. they are born with hearts that don’t beat right, or lungs that can’t expand, or missing bits that they need to live. if they are young enough, and we are quick enough, the snow queen can save them. they’re not quite human after that though. they’re fae touched, as it were, children that don’t really fit in with the rest of us humans. which is fine, because human is rather broad term, but often they are unhappy, and nothing their parents nor i can do has the ability to satisfy them. if they can find no happiness in my kingdom, in the land of humans, then when they are sixteen years of age, they go back to the snow queen to serve her. if they are not happy with her, then they come back.”

“do they come back often?” gerda asks.

“no,” he says, “i’ve never known one to come back at all.”

madhubala looks dubious, and gerda can’t help but agree, but all she says is, “we mean this queen no harm. all we intend to do is retrieve the young man called kai.”

prince enok seems mollified by this. he gives them a carriage and powerful horses to carry them, and directions to the snow queen’s palace. he also removes a ring from his finger and slides it onto madhubula’s. “so that she knows you come with my blessing,” he says, although by the way he shuffles and can’t quite meet their eyes gerda supposes it’s more than that.

they see the snow queen’s palace long before they arrive there. it’s gorgeous, made of ice and twinkling like thousands of jewels in the rising sun. it’s not like any palace gerda has seen before – the tops of towers are round and bulbous and end in a point. instead of bricks or stones, and the palace walls are carved with intricate, beautiful patterns that seem to glisten with their own light. “oh,” madhubala breathes.

bhanu has been loping alongside them, far too big to fit in the carriage, and he stops for a moment in surprise, then sprints to catch up to them. “that’s something we haven’t seen in a while,” he says, “not since we were back in our land.”

“strange,” she says softly, and gerda means to ask her to explain, but they’ve just arrived at the front of the palace. they get out of the carriage, and approach the ornate, tall doors.

four guards stand there in white leathers and furs, ice spears clutched in their fists. they look human, and gerda wonders if these are some of the people that go to serve the snow queen and never come back. madhubala takes off her gloves and flashes her ring to them. “we come with the blessing of prince enok. we mean no harm, but we must speak to the snow queen. we are looking for a human boy named kai.”

they trade looks, and one says, “we know of the human you speak. but there’s no point in looking for him. if it’s him you seek, then you should go home.”

madhubala’s eyes narrow, and bhanu’s hackles rise. gerda pushes forward and clasps her hands together, “oh, please, you must let me see him! i grew up with him, he’s my very best friend in the whole world.” they hesitate, and she presses her hands against the arms of the nearest one, pressing herself up against the ice spear, well aware one wrong move could end with her sliced to ribbons. “please! i love him, you see, so i can’t leave without him.”

they sigh, and step aside, pushing the large doors open. “don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

gerda goes to her tiptoes to press a kiss against the guard’s cheek, ignoring the way her lips frost over when she touches him. “thank you!”

they enter the palace, and the inside is just as lavish and beautiful as the outside. people in pure white walk past and around them, and finally they find someone to take them to the throne room. “our queen is very busy,” says a young woman with hair as blue as her eyes, “you mustn’t distract her for too long.”

when they enter the room, she’s not sitting on a throne. she’s standing at a desk with her back to them, giving orders to a dozen or so winter foxes, while a dark, handsome man takes notes besides her. “kai!” gerda yells, and runs forward. she throws herself at him, startling him and the queen and causing the foxes to scatter back. madhubala and bhanu get ready to fight, but the snow queen hasn’t turned. she’s tall and pale, with pure white hair piled atop her head and a white dress.

madhubala blinks, then squints. it doesn’t look like a traditional dress for these people. it looks like – well it looks like a sari, like women wear back in her home.

“hello,” he says, putting gerda gently on the ground. “do i know you?”

gerda’s heart breaks. she reaches up to cup kai’s face in her hands. “of course you know me! i am gerda, your very best friend in the whole world!”

he shakes his head, his eyes darting to look behind her. “my queen?”

“oh dear,” says the snow queen, and madhubala and bhanu go completely still. “i was afraid this would happen. child, please, look at me.”

gerda feels the queen’s cold hand on her shoulder, and rubs at her leaking eyes before turning to face her. she’s so stunned by the sight of her that for a moment she forgets to be sad. the snow queen is achingly beautiful, dark eyes and pale skin and pale hair, plump lips and delicate wrists. has kai chosen the queen, and simply left gerda behind? was she foolish to search for him so desperately?

the queen tucks a piece of gerda’s hair behind her ear. “i’m afraid he doesn’t know you, and that is my fault. i found him wandering in my mountains, half frozen and near death. i kissed him once, in order to make him invulnerable to the cold. but i sensed a malevolent magic about him, something that clouded his heart and his actions, that threatened to destroy his soul as surely as the cold would have destroyed his body. so i kissed him again, and locked all his memories away, so that the magic had nothing to grab onto, and he would be safe.”

“but he does not know me,” she says, lips trembling, “and i know him so well. he was the one that knew me best in the whole world. could you not kiss him again, and set him free?”

“i am sorry,” the snow queen says, “but a third kiss from me would be the kiss of death.”

gerda turns back to kai, and asks, “am i not familiar to you at all? does nothing of me feel like home?” before he can answer she leans in close and says, “oh, kai, your eye! what happened?” it’s got a sliver of red stuck in it, like an eyelash, but it looks far more painful.

“i don’t know,” he says, “it was like that before i was with the snow queen.”

“it was settled deep in the back of his eye,” the snow queen says, “it came forward after my spells, but i haven’t been able to get it out.”

“it’s the last piece! i can complete the heart!” madhubala says excitedly, speaking for the first time.

the snow queen whirls around, “oh, my apologies, i didn’t mean to ignore y – oh, bhanu!”

she holds out her arms, and the massive tiger bounds forward, nuzzling into the snow queen’s chest and reaching up to lick her face. “i have been looking for you!” bhanu says crossly. “you are far from home.”

“i was like this when i woke up,” she says. “i had already frozen and destroyed my favorite banyan tree, and i did not want to cause harm to the rest of my country. so i came here, to a place where my snow and ice wouldn’t hurt anyone, where they had so much of it already that surely i couldn’t cause any damage.”

madhubala steps forward, “queen raveena, i have something that belongs to you.” she reaches into her coat, and takes out the fist sized ruby.

“my heart!” she gasps, “it fell from my hands and shattered, scattering to the four corners of our land. how did you ever find it?”

“i am the younger sister of anika, who’s life you saved by taking the ice from her heart,” madhubala says. “my sister and i have spent our whole lives reconstructing this heart. after we finished, she sent me to find you, and the daayans says your where here. but it’s missing one more piece – the piece, i believe, that is in kai’s eye.”

gerda says, “there must be a way to get it out! please, i’ll do anything.”

raveena frowns, looking at gerda with a considering gaze. “do you love him, gerda?”

she flushes and gives kai a shy glance, who ducks his head, an uncertain smile curling around the edges of his mouth. “i do, queen raveena.”

“truly? do you love him more than anything? if he were to get his memories back, and did not care for you, would you love him still?”

“of course!” she says, “love doesn’t work any other the way.”

raveena says. “gerda, i think you should kiss kai.”

“i am no queen or fae!” she says, “my kiss won’t do anything at all.”

“you are a girl of pure heart and a kind spirit, who loves him dearly. if your kiss can’t help him, then i fear nothing can,” she says.

gerda looks to kai, her best friend, and asks, “do you mind terribly if i kiss you? i’ve never kissed anyone before, and my lips are quite chapped.”

“i suppose it’s all right,” he says, voice an octave too high.

gerda is too short to reach, even when she grabs his shoulders and goes on her tip toes. kai carefully settles his hands on her hips, and bends down to meet her lips with his.

at first, nothing happens, and it’s just a kiss. but then they all see a red drop of liquid drip out of his eye and down his cheek. gerda’s love has melted the shard, and they break apart just in time for kai to catch the drop of liquid as it freezes once more into a shard.

“gerda!” he cries, recognition lighting up his face. he grabs her in a tight hug.

she wraps her arms around his neck, burying her face into his chest and crying, “you know me! you really know me!”

“of course i do,” he say, beaming, “i reckon i know you better than i know myself. you’re my very best friend in the whole world.” his cheeks go pink, “you kissed me!”

they step apart, and she shuffles her feet. “er, yes, i did. was it awful?”

“not at all,” he assures her, “uh, maybe we could do it again? sometime?”

“i’d like that,” she says, and it’s freezing in the snow queen’s palace, but she feels warm.

kai hold out his hand to madhubala, “here, i think you need this.”

he drops the red shard into her hand. madhubala carefully slots the shard into place on the ruby. there’s a bright burst of light, and madhubala isn’t holding a ruby anymore – it’s a beating heart.

raveena comes forward and presses a finger against it. “it’s warm,” she says in wonder. “oh, you and your sister must have put so much love in these pieces for it to melt my heart. thank you!”

“you are our summer queen,” madhubala says, smiling. “it was our pleasure.”

raveena pulls the top of her sari down, “would you put it back for me?”

madhubala steps forward, and carefully presses the warm, beating heart against raveena’s chest. at first nothing happens, then it sinks beneath her flesh, settling inside of her once more. as her heart beats, and spreads warmth through her once more, raveena changes.

her pale skin turns brown in places, splotches appearing over her arms and face. her pale hair darkens, until it’s black streaked through with white. “wonderful!” she cries, spinning around as she stares at her new skin in delight.

“you are not as you once were!” bhanu says, upset.

raveena says, “oh, bhanu, we can never be as we once were. we can only go forward, and become something new instead.” she winks, “besides, i’ve grown rather fond of this land, and i’d be sad to leave it forever.” she holds out her hands. in one, a lotus flower grows. in the other is the same flower, but made entirely of ice. “i am the summer queen, but i am the snow queen as well. now i can travel between my lands, and love and care for them both! i would say that’s much better than simply being as i was before.”

“i like it!” gerda enthuses, “you’re even prettier than you were before!”

raveena absently tucks the real lotus flower into gerda’s hair, “would you like transportation back home? i imagine you and kai are far from your village. and madhubala and bhanu do you want to travel back to our land with me?”

“please,” she says, leaning into kai’s side. “i think we’ve been away from home long enough.”

madhubala flushes, “ah, actually, my queen, i made a deal with a prince.” she rubs the ring on her finger, almost self consciously. “i don’t think i’ll be going home anytime soon.”

“prince enok is a delightful young man,” raveena says. “it seems that soon i shall be addressing you as queen. bhanu? what about you?”

the great tiger hunkers down, then says, “well, you see, i’ve been with madhubala since she was a baby. and i don’t know about this prince enok fellow. you never know, with these prince types. it’s probably best i hang around, just in case anyone needs to be eaten.”

“i see,” raveena says seriously. “well, you’re not really meant to be someplace so cold for so long, bhanu. but i can fix that.” she leans down and gives the tiger a kiss on the nose.

he shivers, then shakes all over. by the time he’s done his orange fur has become white, and his eyes are a bright blue. “i’m warm!” he exclaims, pleased, “thank you, summer queen.”

“excellent,” she says, “now, let’s get everyone where they need to be.”

gerda and kai return to their village. they open a flower shop, and get married, and live in blissful happiness. they often take trips to the mountains, and people whisper stories about how gerda fought the gods of the dead to bring kai home, but they never comment on it. every morning she weaves an eternally fresh lotus flower into her hair.

madhubala and bhanu make themselves at home in the mountain palace. madhubala is shocked to discover how easy it is to fall in love with her prince, how easy it is to be his wife, his princess, his queen. enok is kind and courteous, and madhubala is clever and determined, and under their rule their land and people flourish. anika visits often, and when nobles are particularly irritating, bhanu will stare at them from his place sitting by madhubala’s throne.

raveena spends half her time in the land she came from, painting butterfly wings and arranging the patterns of leaves in the canopy, and the other half in her home of ice, carefully crafting beautiful snowflakes and making the ice sparkle.

although the world she lives in is not perfect, is not always easy or good or fair, she does not allow that to touch her. she is a woman of pure heart, who believes in kindness, in forgiveness. people sing to her and pray to her, people believe in the hope and beauty their queen of snow and summer bring to them.

and they all lived happily ever after.