Tomorrows Child (39 page)

“Near the top,
there is a plateau, we can rest there and wait for dawn,” said
Libby.

“Did you bring
food?” I asked.

“Of course,
don’t I always?” she said. She was still trying to fatten me up or
at least create a healthy cover over my bony body. I had always
been more round than thin. I missed it though, my old body, my
curves and my waist and my bust. But that was me before. Like the
death of my old life, that image had faded into the past and become
a distant memory.

The path to the
base of the mountain was easy, a gentle slope leading upwards.
Ascending the mountain was harder. We slowed and often had to walk
single file. Basalt rocks rose on either side of us, creating a
narrow ravine. I eased my body through, feeling the pressure of
stone on either side and the warm breath of Phoenix on my neck.

Moonlight
didn’t penetrate the depth of the ravine and the darkness was
absolute. But I knew it wasn’t by chance that the light didn’t
shine here. Nothing on this journey happened by chance. Every
detail was planned and finely tuned like the notes in a symphony.
There was no room for error. Not now, nothing could be left to
chance.

As the basalt
passageway widened and the path rose higher, I felt the light of
the moon on my face. That wasn’t by chance either. It was like
being reborn under the light of the goddess. It was how I entered
the world and how I approached my destiny. Well, not exactly, I was
born under a lunar eclipse and didn’t take my first breath until
the full moon bathed my face. Or so I’m told.

The path led to
the plateau where we would wait until dawn. We had hours to wait
and time to sleep. But none of us would.

The plateau had
been prepared in advance for this night. Libby and her mother and
perhaps even Tahinah and Phoenix carried items and hid them in a
tiny cave beside the basalt passage. But I didn’t ask who had done
this because it didn’t matter. I was happy for the pot that boiled
our water and the cups for our tea. Thick winter throws had been
sealed in plastic bags and now lay on the ground for comfort and
warmth.

The stone hung
in a pouch around my neck and beat gently, not calling with urgency
or hot against my skin. It was the essence of the serenity that
bathed my soul and calmed the chaos. It had been this way since I
lay in the sacred garden and received the final part of the
prophecy.

“You should
rest, Psyche.” Phoenix placed his hand on my knee as I sat
cross-legged beside the fire.

“No,” I said,
“I don’t want to miss a minute of this.”

“At least rest
a little,” he motioned to his lap and I knew that I could rest my
head there. Perhaps I would before dawn.

“Thank you, but
I would like a little more tea.”

I noticed that
Navarre was not beside the fire, but stood guard on a rock beyond
the circle while all of us rested. Pepper stood beside him with his
tail raised and curled toward his head.

“Navarre, come
and sit. We don’t need protecting tonight,” I said.

“I should watch
anyway, just in case,” he said.

“There’s no
need, Navarre, can’t you feel it? Other things protect us tonight.”
For a moment, he stood silent. Pepper turned and sniffed the air.
Then he ran to my side, nuzzled my hand and found a cosy position
beside the fire.

“You’re right,”
he said and laid his bow on the ground and sat beside Tahinah.

“I think we are
like ghosts,” said Navarre. “Maybe the stone hides us like the
spirits from another world.”

“Maybe,” I
smiled. “Almost anything is possible.”

We left the
plateau in the moments before dawn and walked the final steps
toward the peak. A vertical wall rose at the end of the path.
Phoenix lifted me and I pulled myself up over the basalt ledge and
stood on the crest of the mountain. This was Darnell’s Peak.

The vision was
perfect in every detail and from here, the land looked untouched by
the hand of man or the ravages of time. One day, the earth would
reclaim what was hers and this illusion would become reality,
relegating human existence to a distant memory. But there was still
a lot of healing to do and what I saw was nothing more than an
illusion.

The peak was
capped in a single stone, an enormous basalt boulder that curved
away to the valley below. Boulders like this had been scattered
across the landscape from the valley to Emma Creek, remnants of the
turmoil of creation and the fluid of life that spilled across the
earth when lava flowed and formed new lands.

I was surprised
however, by the sight of an enormous man-made tower that stood
proud and tall in the centre. The tower was bleached white and
polished smooth, though small patches of lichen grew and mottled
the perfect surface. It was a sign that Mother Nature still held
the power.

The base of the
tower was carved with symbols from the old language. Most were
unrecognisable, but on the front of the tower, I read my name. I
ran my fingers over the words. I liked the way my name looked
carved in the concrete. Next to mine, Celeste was named and beside
that, Libatina, Libby’s real name. The other carvings would be the
names of the other daughters.

I stood here,
on the peak of the mountain alone, knowing the others would arrive
soon. But now I was absorbing the energy, comforted by the presence
of the stone and the knowledge it possessed.

The moon waited
on the western horizon, standing witness to the events that would
follow as the sun began to rise, sending a blush of colour over the
landscape below. I watched as the hands of life reached out and the
darkness faded. The sun gave us life, but the moon gave us rhythm
and balance.

The others
began to arrive, standing beside me in awe of the view below.
Phoenix arrived too, placing his hand on my shoulder. We stood in
silence, a moment of respect and reverence. But a moment was all we
had.

“Phoenix, can
you lift me?” I looked up at the tower. It stood well over two
metres tall and there was no way I could reach its apex without
assistance.

Phoenix nodded
and held me around my waist. I took the stone in my hand, warm and
beating with life. I knew this would be our parting moment and felt
as if I were farewelling a friend. Phoenix lifted me up, higher
than the top of the tower. The tip was not flat, but crafted to fit
the shape of the diamond. I reached out. My hands trembled as I
placed the diamond on the tip and there she sat, exposed and
waiting.

I slipped down
and let my bare feet feel the cold of the stone.

“What now?”

“We wait, but
it won’t be long,” I said.

I felt a tug in
my heart and held one hand toward the tower. The energy flowed
through me from the earth and into the tower and a beam of white
light exploded from the sky and streamed into the stone. For a
moment, we were blinded and I covered my eyes with my free hand.
Tiny particles of dust filled the air as the light retracted and
the stone sat clear and polished, as if touched by the gentle hand
of a master jeweller.

Diamond dust
created tiny glimmers of rainbow light that floated in the air and
kissed our skin, settling at our feet. Emily began to sing, it was
my mother’s song. Her voice created ripples across my soul as
enchanting sounds filled the air and travelled beyond the
valley.

Rays from the
sun reached us now and the diamond began to glow. The energy was
intense. Tears ran freely and I felt my knees begin to buckle.
Phoenix caught me before I fell and held me upright. It was as if
we stood in the presence of both our God and Goddess. And in truth
we did. If the moon was the Goddess, then the sun truly was our
God.

Rainbow light
began to radiate from the stone and fill the sky. But it was more
than a rainbow. Colours beyond the spectrum, colours without names;
yet these colours seemed to balance the rainbow and complete the
spectrum. The diamond dust sparkled and dazzled, the light
refracting in the early morning sun, creating even more
rainbows.

As I looked
across toward the horizon, I saw other rainbows meet with ours.
They came from every direction, as I knew they would. Others just
like me had placed their stones, in sacred places just like this
all around the world.

The sky grew
vibrant and our blue had been replaced by a new light. I could feel
the energy in the air. It was new energy, but it tickled at
memories beyond this life and I found it familiar and pure. The
energy flowed through the tower and warmth radiated through my
fingers. It filtered down through my heart, and flowed into my toes
until the air was humming around me. As I looked around, I could
see that everyone felt it. The vivid light bathed us all in its
healing energy.

The bright,
white light began to retreat into the stone and the sky became blue
again. Well almost blue, because now the sky was filled with
vibrant ribbons of aurora light that danced to the rhythm of a new
song. I could feel it in the air, hear it in my heart and I soaked
it up like a lover’s embrace. But I expected that.

The sacred
garden in the bottom of Libby’s yard was a recent discovery. But I
knew it was the perfect place to spend time with the goddess. I
didn’t expect her to materialise like she had in the past, but I
knew I owed her a moment of gratitude.

Walking around
the circular garden, I prepared the space using the energy that
dwelled within. Raising the energy and creating a sacred space was
knowledge gained naturally while possessing the stone. It was a
lesson that Libby had intended to cover, but never found the
time.

I sat on the
chamomile bed in the centre of the circle. It was probably intended
to be an altar, but it was a pleasant place to contemplate the
goddess. I planned to do nothing more than consider the myth and
revisit our earlier conversation.

I took a few
deep breaths and began to elevate the energy. Within moments, the
colours swirled around the circle like oil floating on water and I
felt a surge of pride as I admired my work. It was nice to get
something right. But the colours swirled into mist and changed to
blue. It was the familiar glow that accompanied Persephone’s
presence.

I wasn’t
surprised, but it was unnecessary. I hadn’t called her simply
because I figured she had better things to do on the equinox than
visit with me.

“Psyche,” she
said. She glimmered at the edges and then stood before me as real
as any person in the valley. “I see you have fulfilled the
prophecy.”

Everyone could
see that. The ribbons of light still danced across the sky for all
to view. I wondered what science would have made of this. Would
they have found a logical explanation? Or would they have spent
years decoding its meaning? Perhaps they might even consider it a
natural phenomenon?

“Everything
changes now. This is just the beginning.”

“Just the
beginning? But I am finished. The prophecy has been fulfilled,” I
said.

“Perhaps, but
you still haven’t learned how to use the power of your gift to its
fullest potential.”

“I assumed that
it was to assist the transfer of the light, to carry the energy
from the earth,” I said.

“If this were
true, then why do you still possess the power, even now?”

I couldn’t
answer, because I didn’t know.

“The path to
your destiny is woven in the fabric of time. The story of the
ancestors is your story.” She reached out and took my hand. “But
now is not the time. Let this not concern you today. The reason I
am here is because you must learn how to use the gift. Your magick
is squandered when you return it to the earth. The powers you
possess are great and highly desired.”

“Then show me
how to use it.”

“I’m sorry,
Psyche, but you must learn this on your own. All will become clear
in due time.”

“But this is
not why I came here,” I said. “I came to thank you for helping me.
I know that without you, I would probably be dead and the stone
would still be at Emma Creek and the rainbow light would still be
waiting to appear. Without you, we would have failed. It’s
important that you know how grateful I am.”

She smiled. “Of
course, you are grateful, but you should save your thanks for
another day.”

“Because…?” I
didn’t really understand what she was saying.

“Because you
will thank me in another way, something more fitting to your
destiny.”

“Oh, but you
won’t tell me how I will thank you?”

“Not today, but
the pieces, the seeds, have already been sown. You don’t really
need me to tell you anything. Deep down, you already know.”

She stood and
embraced me. I always cried in her presence. Today was no
different.

“We are like
sisters, you and I. Remember that.”

The blue glow
returned and Persephone faded into mist. The swirly colours of my
circle reappeared and then dissolved, leaving me with more
questions than answers.

The Darnells
had been celebrating the vernal equinox since, well forever,
really. But in our family, the fulfilment of the prophecy was more
than enough reason to celebrate. Without lessening the importance
of the equinox or offending a goddess, it was actually more
important to us.

Family now
included the people of the valley. While I had always considered it
to be a lame secret, as secrets go, I was glad everyone knew about
it. It meant that Libby and I didn’t have to celebrate alone.

Tonight we
would dress up. It was the first time since arriving in the valley
that anyone actually cared what we wore. Tahinah had instructed
everyone to don their most festive party clothes. It was a loosely
defined dress code, but it meant we could spend time getting
ready.