The Triumvirate : A Tale of Hope

You join us again as the vixen continues her tale.

It took me 2 changes of the seasons to discover a witch amongst the village folk. The art by now was being super-ceded by Christianity, the work of the village more industrious, the village itself more populous. I planned out every step to her door. But then she appeared in the woods and I found her gathering wild herbs. I approached cautiously, not wanting to startle her. I stopped within feet of her and sat. Her attentions turned to me and she began talking to me as a human often does to wild creatures. I tried to respond to her but it was obvious that all she heard were animal noises. She continued to talk to me but I was not listening, instead I was trying to think of a way I could communicate with her. I looked at her closely. She was wearing a pendant.  A symbol familiar to witches all across the country. I stood up and started scratching the undergrowth to clear a patch of dirt. The witch watched me curiously as I meticulously cleared a square of dirt. I had her attention. Now to hold it. I drew on the patch of cleared dirt the symbol of the triple goddess, a symbol representing the Moon in her three phases.

triple goddess black and gold

Of course the one I drew was basic to say the least but she stared at it in amazement. Did she understand what I was trying to tell her? She began asking questions which I could nod or shake my head in answer to. Had I copied the symbol she wore on her neck for a reason? Yes. Had I seen the symbol before? Yes. Was I a witch’s familiar? No. Was I a spirit guide? No. A long pause before the crucial question came. Was I a witch? Yes. I stood up exultantly and shook my head up and down. The questions stopped as she took in what I had just told her. Finally she starts asking questions again, asking if I needed help, how this had happened, had a spell gone wrong? Finally she said she needed someone who could speak my language as the questions would no longer be answered with nods or shakes of my head. She promised to meet me in the same place with someone who might be able to help communicate more fully with me. She asked me to return to the same place in three moon’s time.

It was closer to 6 moons when she returned, she brought a man with her. I had returned each night  to this place hoping she would be able to find help and it seemed she had. She explained to me it had taken so long to convince the man that she was not mad, that she had found a witch stuck in animal form. The man nodded and said he had never heard of a successful shapeshift that stayed on the person it was cast on or by. He asked if my coven had abandoned me to this fate, if I had been trying to make the spell with family, if I had tried to do this on my own?! His questions tumbled out of his mouth so quickly I could scarce follow him. I yelled at him to stop so I could answer, of course it came across as nothing more than a bark to the witch but the man nodded his understanding. He said he was a druid with the gift of animal empathy, he could understand animal thoughts and could bend animals to do his will, a gift which had passed from father to son down the generations. He asked me to tell him in my own way exactly what had happened and he let me ramble my tale to him as I rambled it to you all over the past night. By the end of my telling of the tale he was pacing up and down, making my slightly dizzy. He stopped pacing and turned to me, promising he would find a way to help me but right this moment he could not think of what could be done. “Be patient little sister, we will return often to keep you informed of what we find” and with that he gestured it was time to leave.

The witch came back often to keep me advised as to the progress or lack of, mainly the lack of and for that she apologised profusely each time. But progress was made, albeit very slowly. Another 5 seasons had passed before I received news the druid was returning to the village and would have an answer for me. I was again pregnant when both the witch and the druid returned to me. They both looked at me aghast when they saw the distended belly underneath me. They both knew the horror of pregnancy for me and the druid suggested an abortificant that he had used on animals in the past. I declined reasoning that karma had given me this debt to pay and I must pay it until karma saw fit to allow my release. “In which case, might I suggest a herb that will bar further pregnancies for you? If you happen across it yourself then karma is surely telling you that you can take it with an easy conscience.?” I cannot refute his argument so agree and he points out the wild herb close by. With the grace of the goddess I might be saved from this continued hell at least now and then until I could be spared of the curse itself. And then came the bad news. “”I cannot break the spell. But it can be broken but you will have to seek out specific people. I am sorry but it may take some time, I had my wife read your fortune and it will be some years before the stars align and the three people you need will be together. I sought out the guidance of an elder druid many miles from here in the mountains of Wales. He told me what is done by one must be undone by three. And these three are very specific and not often found easily. You must seek out a daughter of Diana, the huntress, a son of Pan, the player of pipes and a child of the heavens. I asked him if he could explain that better for me but he could not. I visited a hag in Lancashire and she WAS able to explain it to me. The daughter of Diana will have the name of Hunter, the son of Pan will be a druid who is or was a musician. The child of the heavens is one whose path is celestial, neither a witch nor a druid, but one who follows truth and binds it to herself. Only this combination will give sufficient power to break the spell. Lord and Lady only know how much power the witch had that did this to you.” I knew, for I had felt the power she hit me with and it was nothing I had ever felt before or since, until I came across you three. He continued to tell me that the son of Pan would be from his own bloodline, that of the Acreman, the daughter of Diana would be my own bloodline and that of the witch stood with us, that of Hunter. The last would be of French bloodline whose family name would come from a nickname for stubborn, tirel.

And now it should all be falling into place. I have followed your bloodlines, Joe and Arin since that day. I discovered Agnes by chance. Arin, I am your great, great, aunt many times over, you are my own bloodline. I am Lettie and I know you have long puzzled over what happened to me when I disappeared from my homestead so many years ago at the far reach of your research into your family tree.

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About nicessus2012

A quiet woman with a hint of sanity
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