It took a million years after the creation of Albion and the incarceration of Brutá and Hasafá for the great almighty goddess Asifá to realize she had made a mistake. The two lovers at the center of the planet had been having squabbles and disagreements for millennia, as all who are deeply in love do. But when a million years had passed and the couple at the center of the world realized they were never going to be free . . . That there was an entire world surrounding them, with no way out, they began a spat. A spat that turned into an argument that turned into a fight that turned into a long, drawn-out battle, that turned into a war that lasted for many years. At the time a violence between the two attained a level that had not been seen before throughout the entire short-lived existence of the planet Albion. Fortunately, only a million years into its very long life, the planet had yet to spawn any life. The surface of the world was in fact still very much in upheaval with earthquakes criss-crossing the globe; volcanoes arising and then sinking back down all over like a distant planet to observers that constantly hides behind its star, then reveals itself, then hides once more.

It was on no day in particular that the two gods became especially violent. Brutá threw Hasafá against one side of the core with such a level of violence that a piece of the mantle of Albion was broken asunder and flew off into space. Not wanting to be outdone in any way, Hasafá returned the favor, and in so doing, broke off another piece of the planet and also sent it hurtling into space.

Asifá observed these two momentous events on the edge of her kenning and immediately returned to the system where Albion orbited its mighty star. The great goddess worked fast, taking elements and materials from surrounding planets and then applying some of her own secret ingredients to form an impenetrable, protective barrier that she encased Albion with. It was invisible to the naked eye and still allowed the many geological events that were occurring and would continue to occur in Albion’s long future carry out as time would allow, but it prevented Brutá and Hasafá from ever causing any external damage to the planet again.

And with those two final, ever so violent acts against each other, Brutá and Hasafá entered into a period of love and respect for each other, which they promptly consummated and continued to do so for centuries to come. But Albion was already in a state of extreme upheaval, so the at times intense earthquakes and shakings of the planet due to what was occurring at its core went unnoticed.

[Break]

Meanwhile the two different sized chunks of former Albion that had been hurtled into space began to settle into a stable orbit with Albion. They were on different orbital planes and perhaps, one day, in the oh so very distant future, would collide and rain down a hailstorm of meteorites that would wipe out any life on the planet within a number of years . . . But that story lies in the far off future. For now the two rocks were comfortably orbiting Albion and having little effect upon the planet. But the many revolutions helped to round and soften the edges of these rocks so they eventually became small round planetoids. At times they would be bombarded by meteors and asteroids. Both lacked any sort of atmosphere and so became cratered and pock-marked by these attacks from space. There was one time when a larger meteor made contacted with the smaller of the two rocks and threatened to dislodge it from its orbit and send it hurtling towards the mighty sun. The great goddess Asifá had become quite fond of these two orbiting rocks that she now called the twin moons of Albion. She had in fact named them: the larger was Gammá, the smaller Etá. So when she observed the event that would send Etá into the sun and oblivion, she reached in and took away the errant meteor and hurtled it into another far off galaxy.

Gammá and Etá continued to orbit Albion as a twin-moon system.

[Break]

A couple of billions years passed and eventually Albion became a planet teeming with diverse life. Plants and trees of every kind on seven great islands spanning the planet. In between were mighty oceans, and some not so mighty. There were mountains, there were hills. There were rivers, there were streams. There were many different peoples from all over. Most people almost never met other people from other islands, however there was plenty of sea travel. Not all those who traveled by sea always made it to their destination, for there were strange creatures and other unknown things beneath the waters. A good number of people rarely got to know or even meet the people on the other side of their large island. But there were of course, a number that did travel greatly, and did interact much with many different people.

The Circé were part of this nomadic group.

As for the twin moons of Gammá and Etá, they exacted a most perplexing toll upon Albion and its people, although not all that perplexing to the Circé. On certain days and times of the year there were high tides and low tides with the waters around each of the seven islands. And at two specific points of the year – always occurring on the same day – there would be an extreme high tide that would have some extreme flooding and cause those who lived near the water’s edge to temporarily move to higher ground; but in a relatively short time it would be over and things would return to normal. On the “opposite” time of that special event of the year, there would be an extreme low tide, where the waters appeared to be withdrawing into their respective oceans, just as one takes in a deep breath. The shipping of goods and ferrying of people would be halted for a number of days, and then the waters would return and life would continue on as it ever had before, until the next extreme high tide or low tide event.

To an outsider it might be considered a harsh world that exacted a harsh toll on its inhabitants. But to those Albions who had lived on their respective islands for generations upon generations, it was simply the way the planet lived, and the way balance was achieved.

It was the way Albion was, and not a single one of its many different peoples would have it any other way.

[Longer break]

[Slightly different voice]

I push my chair back from the table I have been recording my oral stories for over the last twelve hours. The man named Steve has been very kind, bringing me water and sustenance when I have needed it. I have not at any point asked, he has simply done it, and I have thanked him graciously and taking the drink and vittles. They have sustained me through this long first day of my storytelling.

I stand and walk around the room, then go downstairs and outside to breath fresh air. The night sky is above, dotted with a firmament of stars. The moon has risen, a bright white orb, and is almost full. I feel a pang in my heart that I see only one orb, not the bluish twin orbs I have become so used to on Albion. It seems a trivial thing to miss, but it makes this world feel so alien to me.

It is very clearly not my world.

But I can feel a change happening within me now. An awakening. There is a stirring of powers, of abilities I have not sensed nor felt in a very long time. It feels . . . Wonderful.

A smile alights itself on my face. Then I realize I am not alone. I turn and see Steve in the doorway behind me. He has a smirk upon his face.

STEVE: It’s working, isn’t it?

I cannot help smiling wider now. I choose not to say any words, not wishing to break the moment. I give a slight nod, the smile still wide and beaming much as it did when I first looked upon Mæve so many, many years ago.

Steve can see my growing euphoria and cannot help but be a part of it. He bursts out laughing, his joy growing with mine.

And then I cannot contain it no longer. I too begin laughing.

[Laughing]

We laugh together under the strange night sky, on the strange rock of the Gibraltar.

Whether Jake or Monica will ever return, we know not. We are possibly the last two people of the Ostium Network.

But we do not let those potential facts affect our happiness at this moment in time.

We continue to laugh, our vocal sounds reaching up into the night and passing off into the reaches of space.

Perhaps somewhere, at some time, those sounds may reach a certain planet with two small moons orbiting a bright star. A planet called Albion.

Mæve is on the ground. Not moving. A cold spark of fear shoots through my body.

What happened?

[Break]

She was scared, just like I was.

Just like I am.

She was watching next to me. I touched the tree, drawing all the essence I could from it. I knew from past experience, discussions with Clýstra, that when such a spell is compelled, all energy from the tree is drawn from root tip to leaf edge. The tree quickly loses its color, turns a dark gray. It becomes very dry. Branches fall to the ground. 

Clýstra had also taught me that when all the essence is taken from the tree, it only applies to the limits of the tree. The very ends of its root system, but not anything surrounding the roots; the very edges of the leaves and branches, but nothing nearby, unless something organic is in full contact with the tree. If there are birds or any other animals roosting on the branches, with skin, fur, feather or scale contact with the tree, that organic material will also have its essence taken . . .

I slowly and ever so carefully kneel down next to Mæve. She lies there, one hand under her perfectly sculpted chin. The side of her face still shining in the nearby firelight. She looked like she might be resting, sleeping perhaps. We have had a taxing, busy day, full for activity and eating and enjoyment with each other. I myself am close to exhaustion, especially after the spell.

[Beat]

But I know she is not sleeping.

I have not checked.

I have not made certain.

Like a fool.

[Angry] Like a novice Circé.

I have not followed the rules and the code of the Circé. I have not made the correct decisions, nor considered the full consequences of what I have done before conducting them.

I have not planned accordingly.

I see it in my mind now. One hand. Maybe both. Mæve’s hands. Touching the tree. As I turned from her I felt one of her arms fall from me. As she turned, I felt the other, not paying any attention. As she saw the terrifying blue orb, she reacted on instinct: moving closer to the tree; hiding behind me and using the trunk for support and protection.

For I did not.

As I drew the essence from the tree, I also drew the essence from her. I did not see. I did not hear a single sound from her. It happened so quickly. I was focused on completing the spell, I had not checked . . . I had not even considered . . . what might be happening. That I might be sucking the very life and existence from the girl I had grown so very close to.

That I killed . . . Murdered the girl who captured my heart.

I began weeping.

[Break]

Time passes. I know not how much. The fires are still going strong; the bonfires sending crackling flames into the night sky on this auspicious night when things that are unwanted are kept at bay. So Mæve had told me earlier.

I sit up and see her form unmoving on the ground, still very much dead. I wonder if it might all have been a dream? Seeing Mæve’s form brings everything back in an instant.

CLYSTRA: Is she passed?

THÝRA [Quietly]: Umm . . . Yes. She . . . Is . . . Dead.

Clýstra looks up, searching around, making sure we are alone.

CLYSTRA: Very well, we do not have much time. Help me with the body.

THÝRA [Shock]: What?

CLYSTRA [Serious]: Thýra. This child is dead. I do not know the circumstances and at this point in time I do not want to know. But once she is discovered – and if she is left here, mark my words, she will be discovered – it will not take long for the town to point the finger at the last person she was seen with. You. We must get rid of her; we must do it now; and then we must leave.

The horrible feelings bursting from my chest become much worse, a hundredfold worse! But Clýstra is right. I have trusted her all my life, I will not shirk that trust at this moment in time.

THÝRA [Quietly]: What do you need me to do.

CLYSTRA: I need you to do exactly as I tell you. Do not hesitate no matter what I tell you. Understood?

I nod.

CLYSTRA: Good. Take her legs. I will take her shoulders.

We lift Mæve and Clýstra leads us in a specific direction. In a few moments I know where we were headed. I feel a gasp wanting to rip itself from me, but hold it inside.

When we reach the bonfire, Clýstra looks directly at me.

CLYSTRA: On the count of three.

She does not wait to see if I understand.

She begins swaying the body back and forth. I move in time with her, and on three we let go of the body.

The dessicated corpse that was once a beautiful young girl named Mæve no longer weighs much. It flies through the air easily.

I want to watch the fires consume her, turn her to dust, but Clýstra will not let me.

We do not have time.

She takes my arm and we quickly begin walking away from the stoked fires.

Clýstra does not look back.

I do not either.

[Break]

We walk for hours into the night. I know not what time it is until I began to see a lightening in the east. The Sun begins to rise shortly after. It is then that I begin my story, telling Clýstra everything from first seeing Mæve in the market square to my losing conscious and my teacher finding me. She gives me many a stern look during my telling, but never says a word.

We continue as such for the whole day. We take two brief respites to eat and then move along. Some time after nightfall, Clýstra announces we will rest for the night. We eat, then go to sleep. In the morning we are up before daybreak and begin the last leg of the journey home.

We reach our humble abode on the very edge of the world a short while after the sun is at its zenith.

We put away what few belongings we brought with us. Clýstra makes a particularly strong batch of tea. I find some stale cakes we can dunk in our tea to soften. We sit down, facing each other. We soften the cakes and eat them, then drink most of our tea.

I can no longer take the silence between us.

THÝRA [Angry]: I need you to say something. To shout at me. To punish me. To have some reaction!

Clýstra looks at me, waiting for me to catch my breath after this venting. Then, after two days of mostly silence other than a couple of sentences, she speaks.

CLYSTRA: At this point, with how much time has passed, I see little point in punishing you. Thýra. I saw how you looked at Mæve. I saw how close you two quickly became. That is something that does not happen often. It is  unique and very special. [Slowly, carefully] What you did . . . What happened, it is something I have taught to you and told you about a number of times. I know it was not your intention to ever harm Mæve. But you made a mistake.

THÝRA [Quiet]: More than a mistake . . .

CLYSTRA: Yes. It was terrible, but a mistake nevertheless. I repeat: you never meant to hurt Mæve. You cared deeply for her. I know that, and you know that . . . And Mæve knew that. What happened to her . . . Happened very quickly and she would not have been fully aware before her life and essence were gone and she was no more.

THÝRA [Quiet]: It was so horrible . . .

CLYSTRA: Listen to me, Thýra. This is going to hurt to hear but it must needs be said. You are already suffering for this, for what you have done. You will suffer inside for a long time. The hurt will continue to get worse, then it will remain the same, and then, after some time, maybe a long time, you will begin to heal, to get better, and become whole and balanced again. If what it took for you to fully understand and accept this lesson is the unintentional death of someone you cared much for, then at least it is a lesson well learned.

That is all she says on the matter. It would be fruitless to try to talk more. On that day I grew to hate Clýstra a little, but as time went by . . . As the years past, all the things she said would come to pass did.

And . . . In time . . . I forgave her for what she said that day.

And . . . I never forgot the painful learning of that lesson.

I have never forgotten Mæve. My first love.

I feel unable to accept the information my eyes are transmitting to my brain. What I do comprehend is that Mæve knows exactly what she is doing and has in all likelihood paid witness to this event or at least a very similar one at some point in the past. We are well hidden behind some trees, as she no doubt planned, which would prove more than fortuitous in the near future.

[Break]

The bright, dense blue light floods the landscape as if an enormous bucket of blue paint has been splashed across this swathe of land. A rent has been ripped through reality; a sizable opening that my mind is constantly trying to comprehend but constantly failing. I can see the surroundings of our world clearly, albeit bathed in blue. The boundaries of our trees and bushes and ground. To the left and to the right, and down below. The rent stretches high into the night sky, becoming lost in the dark, the stars, and the swirling smoke of the many bonfires. Where it ends – and whether it ends – I know not. It is a great hole, a window providing visibility and insight into their world, but also theirs into ours.

It is a scene from another world, most likely another time. The blue light makes this clear, but also seeing the stark differences to our own.

There are five of them. I am uncertain if they are women or men or non-gendered, or multi-gendered. They are a people I have never seen before and do not want to assume anything about them. If there is one thing I have learned in my short time in this life, it is that we can never make a hasty decision about that which we either do not understand or at least are not familiar with in some way. For that way lies error and miss-judgment and ultimately our own failing. The teachings of the Circé make this adamantly clear.

The five beings of another world sit at a round table that is made of some silvery substance. It is bright and shimmering with almost liquid-like properties, but two of them have their arms placed upon it, using it as support, so I know that it is a sold object. Three of them have long straight black hair; the other two long curly blond hair. Their faces are a light tan. Their eyes . . . Their eyes are red. I can not tell from my vantage point if their entire eyeballs are red, or if it is the color of part of the eye. Nevertheless, I find it very unsettling, not for any particular negative reason, but because I have never seen beings such as these before. They are unfamiliar which puts me automatically on edge, as much as I do not want it to.

One must not jump to thoughtless conclusions with the unknown, but by the same token once must not go in completely blind and not at least somewhat prepared. On your heels and ready, as Clýstra likes to say. That does a good Circé make.

They appear not to speak, or perhaps they have no need to. It seems they are conversing with each other in some other way; perhaps through some mental transmission. Occasionally two or more of them will look up at each other, then back down again, as if a question has been asked, an answer given; or discussion conducted, a resolution reached.

As I said, the liquid-like table is a bright silvery color, but in the very center where all five appear very interested, is a smaller circle. It is a shade of blue equal to that emanating from the edges of the rift. The very color we are being bathed in.  I cannot see exactly what is in this blue circle, but there is certainly something. Dark and black shapes, as if whatever is transmitting this murky images is in motion. It seems almost fruitless on my part to continue trying to understand what they are looking at. I want to stand and come closer to the rift, perhaps even pass through it somehow. I want to know what this powerful thing is, but must force myself to remain hidden behind the trees.

Mæve senses this somehow. She looks to me. [Surprise] She is scared. Instinctively, we draw into a close embrace, sharing our warmth and our fear in solidarity.

One of the beings Mæve called elves stiffens, then the other four do likewise. The first being reaches out an arm, pointing at what is revealed in the blue circle. I hold back a gasp as I finally see what is in the circle: a smaller image of the very rift we are staring in to.

Is this the same rift? A question that comes unbidden but I push it away, knowing my mind is trying to lessen my fear. I need to remain focused and in what control I can maintain. It is the same rift. And such a thing can only have been created by immense power. Where such a power comes from and through what means, I cannot begin to fathom.

If our eyes are not deceiving us, then this means the beings are looking at us somehow.

So ff I were to turn around, what would I see . . . ?

My body does this before I realize what is happening, before I can stop myself. Mæve remains transfixed, unaware.

[Break]

The blue circle is much larger on this side. It is hovering there like an incorporeal being. It is blue, but also transparent, and I can see through to the other side. I can see the five beings with red eyes looking down upon us. Scrutinizing. Questioning.

Mæve finally turns to look where I am.

[MÆVE YELPING]

I know not if these alien beings are friend or foe, but cannot risk choosing one or tother. As a Circé, I must do what I can to end this and somehow seal the rift.

I half turn back to the tree, putting my hands to its solid brown trunk. From it I draw all the essence and life it will give me, holding nothing back. Taking all. I have performed spells such as this before, under Clýstra’s direction, on smaller trees. It results in a  dead tree and falling branches. In this situation, I have not the time to be aware of my safety.

Nor Mæve’s for that matter.

I rip my hands away from the now dead and dessicated tree and fling them toward the great blue circle.

The blinding white light comes first, followed by a sharp, ear-splitting crackling. The jagged beams launch from my hands, colliding with the blue circle, shattering it like a piece of brittle pottery.

There is silence for a moment.

Then the death of the tree, falling asunder, landing exactly where a rift through reality is no longer.

Suffice to say: the rip, the magic, and the chaotic moment are all over. The world; my world has returned to normal.

Everything is once again in balance.

[Beat]

I turn and see this is not true.

THÝRA [shock, spoken quickly]: How is that possible? Why did you not tell me right away? Who is your teacher? Is it possibly Clýstra? Has she worked with you before? Does she travel to Sinat to teach you without my knowing somehow?

MÆVE: Are you finished? Any more outrageous questions?

THÝRA: I . . . No. My apologies. Please . . . Explain.

MÆVE: I have no teacher. I’ve taught myself from books. Two books actually that I found on a dusty bottom shelf of the Sinat library.

THÝRA: That . . . That sounds impossible. Are you really telling the truth?

MÆVE [Angry]: Are you going to let me tell it like it is, or doubt every word I say?

THÝRA: I . . . Again, I apologize. I was unaware of any books containing lore and spells of the Circé, and had been told they do not exist. Please continue.

MÆVE [Sarcastic]: Thank you. This wasn’t something my heart had been set on since I was young. I had heard about the Circé, of course; who hasn’t? This special coven of sorceresses that has been around for millennia. The secrets and spells passed down for generations. Never cis males. How many Circé are there? Nobody truly knows.

THÝRA: Does every girl or person who identifies as not a cis man wish to be one of the Circé?

MÆVE: What do you think?

THÝRA: I . . . I don’t know. It is why I asked.

MÆVE: Oh, I . . . Assumed you already knew. Sorry. Er . . . Yes. The answer is yes. Every girl I’ve ever known, be they friend or family, has wanted to be a Circé. And I have known a trans person or two expressing interest in the calling. We would all pretend when we were wee ones. Actually, I still do it now, from time to time. A little make believe with my sisters, as we cast spells to help and to heal.

THÝRA: I believe you said just moments ago the Circé was not your heart’s desire.

MÆVE: I was getting to that! Every girl wants to be Circé, which is exactly why we all know we will never become one of those special chosen. It’s an idle fantasy we all have, like being a queen, because we know it will never come true.

THÝRA: Until those books you discovered at the library.

MÆVE: Yes. Until I found the books. I love books, I love turning the pages, and discovering the wonderful and incredible stories within.

THÝRA: I have spent too many years reading and learning the spell books, and too little time enjoying a book for its story.

MÆVE [laughing]: It kind of shows actually . . . You talk a bit like a dusty old spell book.

THÝRA [hurt]: I do?

MÆVE: Oh, sorry no. I didn’t mean anything by it. I meant it more as . . . [unsure] A compliment? I find it kind of cute, actually.

THÝRA [somewhat shocked]: Really?

MÆVE: Sure. Among other things . . .

I have absolutely no response to this. I do notice as she leans over me to get some bread, she inches herself a little closer.

MÆVE: I could lie to myself and say those books showed themselves to me. Revealed themselves in a magical way in a room full of books that all looked the same. But I was just looking for something I hadn’t read . . . Umpteen times before. And there they were, all hidden away. Their covers wearing furry blankets of dust. I took them outside and blew the dust from their ancient faces. Neither of them had a title or any words. Clear of any letters except for a big C. I suppose I should’ve been a little bit suspicious.

THÝRA: All the books I have read from and learned from are the same way. Simplistic. Almost cryptic perhaps. But that is their way, I believe. They have their ways, and their power is great, and they have done what they have done for many generations, as you said. I may not be the best person to vouchsafe them, but it is the only world I know. The only world I have known.

MÆVE: You have led a very sheltered life, haven’t you?

THÝRA [fragile]: I don’t know. Clýstra found me when I was a babe. My parents were gone. I . . . I don’t know what happened. But she took me in. And raised me. And is making me one of the Circé.

MÆVE: Oh you poor thing.

THÝRA: No. You might think a choice was never given to me. And perhaps it was not. But I regret none of it. I can draw power from what is around me . . .

I reach out a hand and select a significant chunk of cheese. I clutch it tight, feeling it turn to mush and forced between my fingers. At the same time I draw the life and essence from it, feeling it grow dry and crumbly. I open my hand and the cheese that was molded from cow’s milk is now gray and lifeless and falling from my hand like dirt and dust.

Mæve watches, completely wrapt in what I am doing.

THÝRA: And now that power is within me and I can do something like this . . .

The same hand points towards the river, palm down. I slowly rotate it and from the rushing water a column of liquid draws up, reaching four feet into the air. The river may be running at a steady pace beneath it, but this water I am drawing up with my magic pays no heed to what is happening to its source below.

I bring my other hand around and make a shaping motion. In turn, the water thickens and begins to form a vague body shape. I continue moving my hands ever so slightly, focusing on creating the solid image that is in my mind to the best of my abilities.

A few moments later Mæve loudly gasps.

MÆVE: [GASP]

MÆVE [shock]: It’s . . . It’s me. How is that possible?

THÝRA: It is the magic of the Circé. No more. No less.

And without further ado, the column of water that looks akin to Mæve’s form quickly collapses, rejoining its rushing origination.

MÆVE [Disappointed]: What? What happened?

THÝRA: No magic is forever. It cannot be. There must always be balance. Life and energy is taken from that piece of organic matter and is transmuted, through my ability, to become a sculpted column of water. But it is a finite resource. Not self-sustaining. Never so. Once the life, the essence has been all used up, the magic collapses in upon itself and is undone.

MÆVE: Can you do it again?

THÝRA: Of course. But it will require another chunk of cheese, and I do not want to waste such a delicacy.

Mæve looks right at me then, looking deep within me. I believe I see her intentions for a brief fraction of a second, before she is upon me, her arms wrapping around my shoulders. Her warm, full lips on mine.

I am shocked. At first. We continue kissing for some time.

[Break]

We return to the market place hand it hand. I have never felt so at ease before; a calm has descended upon me like a comforting blanket that I never wish to lose. I soon find Clýstra and introduced Mæve to her. She wears a bemused grin. I am still unsure if she knows what we have been up to, but she does not have a single negative word to say, and I am immensely happy. She leads us over to some tables and soon we are served platters of cooked meat and baked potatoes and boiled vegetables. Even though Mæve and I have enjoyed meats and cheeses and breads, we find ourselves famished once again.

I suppose our time . . . Enjoying each other has taken something from us, made us hungry.

I am also willing to admit that I am hungry for more of what we were doing.

Much more.

[Short break]

The food is delicious, and as the sun begins setting on this day before Mayday, the bonfires are lit, as are the many torches throughout the town. It seems as if we have been transported to somewhere new, a place of ethereal beauty where the many glowing, flickering flames bathe our faces in a very favorable light.

By the time we are done with our supper, Clýstra is already talking with some other people, ignoring us for the time being. Mæve seizes the moment, taking my hand, and we are off again, disappearing into the trees and the darkness of the night.

[Break]

MÆVE: Did you hear the story Goran was telling?

THÝRA: Who is Goran?

MÆVE: The elder sitting at the table across from us?

THÝRA: I regret to inform you I did not.

I had been enjoying my food too much, as well as being entranced with Mæve’s beautiful face in the flickering firelight. I very much wish to be kissing her again.

And now my heart is beating fast with such hopes . . .

MÆVE: He was telling the tale he fully believes but everyone thinks is a load of poppycock.

THÝRA [awkwardly]: Poppy . . . Cock?

MÆVE [sighing]: Yes. Lies! It’s the story that on the night before Mayday there are certain girls – and though he never outright says so, he undoubtedly means Circé – who transform into hares to steal the milk and churn of the successful farmers so that they will have a poor summer and poor harvest and all starve. And that on one such night long ago, so he says, he set his greyhound, Axe, upon the hare. The dog bit it but did not slay it. When Goran called back his dog, the animal had the hare’s leg in its mouth. Goran says he then chased after the hare to a house known to belong to that of a witch, a Circé no doubt, and inside found an old woman knitting . . . And her leg was missing!

THÝRA: That sounds . . . Absolutely preposterous. 

MÆVE [laughing]: It is! Absolute codswallop!

THÝRA: Another strange expression that I am unable to decipher.

MÆVE: Then let me help you, if I may.

THÝRA [giggling]: You certainly may . . .

But before our lips touch again, we both hear a strange singing coming from a copse of trees away from us. Suddenly we are bathed in a blue light.

MÆVE: Oh wonderful! I had hoped this would happen soon.

THÝRA: What is this?

MÆVE: Dear Thýra, something very special is about to happen . . . The elves are coming . . .

She is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. My viewing of so many people is but young, and my comparisons are considerably limited. Nevertheless, I have lived thirteen long revolutions of the moons on Albion and seen much, be they animal, plant or mineral. And now am playing viewer to many different kinds of people all packed together in one pulsing place. But this girl is . . . Special. Unto her own. Like no other. Her skin a darker brown than mine. Her eyes sparkling from afar. Could it be possible they contained glints of gold? I have never seen this before, and know not whether it might be. But I have dreamed. I believe. Her hair is long and lustrous, like a curling dark river at night that shines under the twin moonlight. Her hair falls over one shoulder and meanders down her chest, accentuated here and there with flower ties . . . Primroses no doubt. She is taller than I. Thinner. Long legs. Long hands. Long fingers. Everything about her seems . . . riverine.

And I wish to bathe in her waters . . .

[Break]

Now where on Albion did that thought come from? I feel warmth quickly spreading through me; from head to hip to toe and back. It is the warmth of embarrassment I realize; for the thought I have just had. But why? It is not indecent. A private thought perhaps. Such as touching one’s parts to stimulate and pleasure oneself. Clýstra has talked to me of this before when I was younger. That I was to explore and revel in my body, but to do so in private.

Yes. The warmth I am feeling now is one akin to the other warmth I have felt before. In private.

The girl has no taken her eyes from me. They continue to burn into my core, almost beckoning me.

She appears close to me in age, and I wish so much to talk with her.

I turn to Clýstra, getting her attention.

CLYSTRA: What is it dear?

THYRA: I wish to walk a little around the square. I see a girl I wish to talk with. To learn more of Sinat and its people.

Clýstra casts her gaze around the market and sees the girl who is no longer eying me in the same way. She is now turned towards a stall, studying its wares, but continues to occasionally cast a furtive glance in my direction.

CLYSTRA: Are you no longer frightened? Do you feel confident in yourself in doing this?

THYRA: Yes. And this girl will know of the town and its way. She can help me.

CLYSTRA: Very well, dear Thýra. Remember: I shall remain in this square throughout the day. We will meet for dinner. Understood?

THYRA: Yes. Thank you, Clýstra.

CLYSTRA: You are welcome. Go along now and have fun. Celebrate the coming of May day!

I can’t help laughing as I skip away and towards the girl who is now studying me once again.

[Break]

As I cross the market square, I grow nervous for the first time. Bees in my tummy, as Clýstra refers to it. I lose confidence in myself.

What am I going to say to her?

Does she wish to talk?

Do we speak the same language?

The bees are now buzzing furiously inside me. Clýstra has told me before of the many languages spoken throughout Albion. Right now all I am trying to remember is whether I understood the conversation she had been having with the ladies in the market.

But my mind is a complete blank; wiped clean due to my focus on this beautiful girl.

I feel stirrings within me that  find new and very exciting.

As I draw closer, she realizes I am coming to her. She turns and skips away from the market.

What is going on?

What is she thinking?

Has she changed her mind?

Did she not think I would come to her?

Or is she perhaps leading me somewhere? Somewhere away from the market? Somewhere possibly . . . Private?

I start to wonder if any people nearby might be able to hear my nervous bees.

I make the decision and chase after her. As I move away from the crowds, the sounds change from a noisy market place to a strong breeze shaking the leaves and the many trees. The sounds of the birds and . . . is that actual bees? Yes! I can see the hanging hive.

Then I catch sight of the girl. Her blue dress swooping in the breeze, like a bird’s wing, revealing her long brown legs.

She disappears behind a wide-trunked mighty oak. I do not think I have ever seen such a large tree.

I stop, listening to hear where she is going, but there are no sounds; just the chorus of nature around me.

I begin walking again and step around the tree . . . And there she is, waiting for me, with that vibrant smile on her face.

I stop in my tracks and am rendered speechless.

The silence begins, then stretches between us like a great bird extending its wings . . . Then she speaks in a strong, confident, but sweet voice.

MÆVE: You’re a stranger here, are you not?

THÝRA: That I am. How can you tell? My accent? The way I look?

Her smile changes, becoming something more exciting. That special warm feeling is back, spreading throughout my chest.

MÆVE: Nay. Tis something far more simple than that. I’ve lived here my entire life and have grown with all the children of Sinat. I have also spent much time with its people and in its streets and know well of the many different faces. The Circé you came with I think I have seen before . . .

THÝRA

[excited]

: You know of the Circé?

MÆVE: A little. Just some stories. Long ago when I was small, I believe I saw her face here in Sinat. I’m very good at remembering faces.

Her eyes are locked on mine now. They are flecked with gold, as I thought.

THÝRA: And mine?

MÆVE [Giggle]: No. Your face I haven’t seen before. And I would remember your face. I’m Mæve by the way.

That smile has now made the warmth inside me blossom into a wild fire. I have no idea what is going on.

THÝRA

[awkwardly]

: Oh, my name is Thýra.

MÆVE: What do you think of the town decorations?

THÝRA: They are lovely! Wonderful! I have never seen anything quite like it.

I do not know what I am saying. The words come out, but none are actually summoned from my mind.

MÆVE: Good. I’m glad you like them. It’s my favorite holiday of the year.

THÝRA [Overly excited]: Really?

MÆVE: Well, that’s not completely true. If I am to be completely honest – and you make me want to be so – I’d have to say along with Samhain. They’re my two favorite holidays.

THÝRA: And what would two girls like us do on either of these holidays?

Again, the words are summoned from somewhere I know not. I would prefer my mouth remain closed; my vocal chords still, but then Mæve would think me strange, or lacking something in my being. The words came unbidden, and I suppose for that I am thankful.

She shows me a new smile, a more complicated one.

That smile makes me want things from Mæve. I feel those lips wishing to be kissed. I have never had these feelings before. They seem to be coming from another form; someone not me. But I also know they feel so foreign because they are my true, deep, core desires. Desires I have apparently not felt before, and not given in to fully. Whether I will do so on this day remains to be seen, for I know not if Mæve shares any of these feelings.

It feels like an eternity since I asked her that foolish question, but in reality it cannot be more than a few seconds.

MÆVE: Have no fear, my dear Thýra, there is plenty of mischief we can be getting up to. But let’s first get something to eat and drink, and then we’ll have ourselves a picnic by the river’s edge. How does that sound?

THÝRA: Wonderful! I am famished. Please take me to all the food!

We skip back to the market, laughing with each other as if we are friends of many years.

[Break]

Some time later it feels as if I am in a dream, one that has come true. We sit on the bank of the river, our sandals cast aside, our feet swirling in the cool running waters. Mæve is well known and very well liked in Sinat. But then, given her beauty, this should come as no surprise to me. Payment or trade was not required for any of the items she acquired. The selection of tasty looking foods was astonishing. Some I had tried before, some were new to me. Whenever Mæve had looked to me with her incredible eyes, questioning whether it was a food I desired, I immediately nodded, unable to say no to her.

There are cheeses of many kinds. A number of different breads. Cured meats that make my mouth water. Various fruits. And some delicious looking cakes.

We begin eating. I am starving, and once I see Mæve tucking into the foods with no shame, I soon join her.

[Short break]

A short while later, our hungers somewhat satiated, I ask the question I made earlier.

THÝRA: You said you knew of the Circé. Please tell me what you know.

MÆVE: Ahh, but first I need to ask you a question. I know Clýstra is a sorceress. Are you just a servant girl to her or are you learning the ways of the Circé?

A feel hot anger suffuse my body. How dare she call me a servant girl! Then I feel my anger cool, shocked at my unhinged feelings for this girl I am growing so fond for. Mæve appears to read my mind, comprehending the emotions my body is emitting.

MÆVE: Good. That’s what I thought. I had to be certain. If you weren’t full of fire and passion for the Circé, our friendship would be over. Now, let me tell you what I know. Because, like you, I too am in training to become one of the hallowed sorceresses.

As a sorceress of the Circé, life is a constant struggle of balance and guilt. Balance for all things must come about for there to be harmony; if they do not, there is discord, which must be rectified, or the discord will become worse and more severe, and will lead to some very bad things. It is the job and role of the Circé to do their best to prevent this from happening, and if it has already occurred, to rectify it to the best and nimblest of their ability.

Taking a life creates instant disharmony, no matter if you are a person grown of many years, or a child a few. This is why the teaching of the ways of the Circé are so pivotal.

When I took a human life, I was in the years of the teen, well along in my teachings, and knew the great disharmony it would cause. I could say that I was not at fault. Not to blame. But I used magic. And it killed someone.

I am a sorceress of the Circé and will accept my consequences.

[Break]

As I grew in years, in both body and mind, as well as ability with magic, Clýstra began showing me more of the world of Albion. Sometimes this would require much travel to far destinations. We would prepare sacks of supplies with food and clothes and whatever else we deemed necessary for the journey, and then walk. I was never fully aware of how remote and isolated Clýstra kept her home and her life. This was the only world I truly knew; my memories of my first years grew hazy and vague in my memories; this included what my parents looked like. So when Clýstra began her teachings of the outside world and other locations in Albion, where there were towns and people with life and activity, because I had never physically seen this reality for myself, I questioned its truth. My world consisted of Clýstra and myself and all the animals. The concept that there could be not just many other people, but hundreds congregated in one area in a collection of residences was inconceivable to me.

It was a long journey. After the second day, I began to question Clýstra’s choices and decisions, and perhaps even her sanity. It felt like we were completely lost and would perhaps be stuck out in this wilderness forever. And in a most miraculously way – so it seemed to me – the trees began to lessen until they were sparse, and a lush blue grass made itself known. There was a breeze that caused a sound from the many waving blades. I stopped, wondering what I was hearing. Clýstra kept going, having seen nothing, then she noticed my absence.

CLYSTRA: Tis just the wind running through the grass, dear.

I remained still; the answer not enough for me.

Eventually we continued on, but I stayed close to Clýstra for some time.

[Break]

It was a number of years ago that Clýstra had a conversation with me in which she sounded nervous and uncertain. I had not before, nor have ever since, heard her in this disposition. I honestly do not know why she was the least bit worried about me or having the talk about the “flowers of love” (an expression I did not learn until later). I had seen the cows, the dogs, the pigs, the geese . . . I’m almost certain I’ve paid witness to every animal copulating with the other gender of its species, and even a number with the same gender. So when I realized that this was the subject about which Clýstra wished to “educate” me about today, I kept my laughs and reactions enveloped inside as much as I could. My protective walls collapsed after less than five minutes.

The look on Clýstra’s face as I was guffawing at her was completely worth it.

I remained silent and by my look alone, she was able to understand why I was laughing at her.

She abruptly stood up and began preparing dinner, acting all huffy. But there was a small smile on her face.

She had little to teach me in this matter, so far as what I was paying witness to.

I know not why I choose to tell this short tale in this instant, but know of no other place for it to go, so here it be.

[Break]

The trees part like opening arms and there before us is the town of Sinat. There is no sign proclaiming this anywhere,  so Clýstra has told me. I take her word for it, not knowing whether it to be true or not. She could be lying to me, for all I know, but she would have no reason to . . . At least I believe this to be so. This all feels very new and strange. I am completely out of my element; the little world of the familiar is no more.

I remain close to Clýstra.

The town is abustle. I have never seen so many people in one place. It is . . . Unnerving. I glomm on to Clýstra, at times closing my eyes. It is noisy and dusty. I am . . . Scared. Very scared. Clýstra knows this. And lets me be.

I feel they are all looking at me. Staring at me. Judging me. Because I don’t belong. Because I am a . . . Stranger. But would they not be shouting at me if that were truly the case? Or staring at me in silence? But they are not. They are walking and talking and doing their everyday things. So . . . My presence is not in question. Therefore I am . . . Okay? Safe?

I force my eyes open and keep them that way. Then I get something in my eye and have to blink. But I’m watching now, taking it all in. The details. The sights. The life of the town.

It is . . . Alive.

Everyone is going somewhere. Somewhere important. They have a job to do. A quest. And they are all . . . Happy. Joyous. Big smiles on everyone’s faces. Something important is occurring.

There are flowers . . . Everywhere! A garland hanging from every door. Primroses! Hundreds of them. Thousands of them. Who grew all these flowers? A lot of work went into this.

THYRA: What is going on here?

She stops and moves us to the side of the street.

CLYSTRA: What do you see?

THYRA: I see people going places. I see flowers! Lots and lots of flowers. Primroses! Primroses? Yes?

CLYSTRA: Yes.

THYRA: It means . . . It means something . . . Special. A festival perhaps?

CLYSTRA: Very good. And how do you know about those? For we have never attended one.

THYRA: You have told me about them. And I have read about them.

CLYSTRA: Good. That is good applied learning. And what do you think this festival might be?

THYRA: I see lots of happy people. I see lots of animals. Many cows. Lots and lots of cows. And we are coming towards the end of spring. It is getting warmer. Could it be something to do with summer?

CLYSTRA: Excellent! Tomorrow is Mayday. Considered the first day of summer. A celebration of the warming sun in the sky. A call for those looking to work, to tend the fields. To get the crops seeded and ready for growth and life. To move the cattle herds to new pastures. Booleying as it is so called. Traditionally women will do it in groups. Young women. Girls also. As a sign of fertility and readiness for the next stages of their lives.

THYRA [Scared]: Is . . . Is that why you brought me here?

CLYSTRA: Oh, no child. I wanted you to see some of this lovely world of ours. Have no fear. You are still too young. But don’t be surprised if you catch people looking at you with lust in their eyes. For you are very beautiful. But come, I have some people to meet in the market square.

[Break]

THYRA: They have all done so much work for this . . . May-day.

CLYSTRA: Yes. Of course! They are celebrating the complete end of winter. A banishing of the dark, cold days. A welcoming of warmth and light and life. You see there. All those people grouping together.

THYRA: Those men and women?

CLYSTRA: Yes. They are looking to work the fields, to be hired by farmers for pay and hard labor. To earn their keep, but also grow. Grow in themselves and grow what they are making. Be they crops or fledgling animals. They are playing a part in the growth of life. The great circle of life. They will work long and hard through the summer and then into the autumn. And then, come next festival. Samhain. They will celebrate the end of the summer, the approach of the dark and the cold once more. But also all the crops and food and stock they have reaped and stored.

THYRA: It’s . . . [softly] Beautiful.

CLYSTRA: Isn’t it just? And now I must talk with these women. Stay close. It is busy here. I do not want to lose you.

I held on to her skirt as she led me across the square, slicing left and right between market stalls like a great scythe. And then she reached the women, who greeted her with respect and joy. I was introduced and bowed and said my words, and then turned to focus on the thriving life going on around me.

A smile blossomed on my face. It was all so . . . Wondrous.

And then I saw the girl. Across the way. She was looking at me . . ?

Yes! I was sure.

Her eyes were focused on me, burning in my direction. The smile on her face was a lot like mine. In my heart I felt a new warmth I had not beheld before.

I had attained a great amount of skill before I took a life. Many years had passed: some had taken long, were harsh and painstaking; others went by seemingly within the blink of an eye, though perhaps such a statement should not be uttered when concerning magic, for perhaps if I had asked this boon of Clýstra – to make a significant amount of time pass within the literal blinking of an eye – she might possibly do it just to reveal there were no limits to her many abilities. Though I cannot begin to fathom the amount of power and life it would be require.

But I am changing my topics. This story was not to be about Clýstra, but about me, as all these stories should be; at least that is my hope, for if I am to truly regain all my powers, I will have to be both painfully and brutally honest in my telling, as much as it may pain me. I feel it is only in that way that I may truly be restored to my former glory.

[Break]

Clýstra had instructed me very specifically and repeatedly. This is a magic of taking; always taking. There is the taking from inorganic material – rocks, dirt, water, air, which are in fortunate abundance on the planet of Albion, but also do not give the sorceress much power to work with. If you are solely using inorganic material, great volumes of it will be necessary to successfully complete most spells, unless they be very simple ones. When power and life is taken from a living entity, the amount is many fold but always comes at a cost. To take from plants and trees and flowers withers and desiccates them, leaving them dried up and most importantly dead. There is no coming back from this; no further power can be gained. No vitality remains. There is nothing left but to cast it into the wind.

Clýstra was incessantly clear on this and drove the harsh reality into me for many a year, often making me repeat it back to her, explain it, come up with examples to prove I fully understood what was being done here and the gravitas of it all.

There was also a third choice for the acquiring and use of power, but one that should only be used as a last resort, when no other option remained. Clýstra did not teach me of this third way until I was considerably older, so I could fully comprehend what this decision would be and its significant consequences. She only taught it to me once, perhaps believing I would not remember and therefore never use it. Only if extremely necessary, when one has no inorganic or living material to derive power from, one can extract it from oneself. The same rules apply. The same costs apply. If you take some essence from yourself, you will naturally feel weaker and less able because of it. The more you do this, the weaker you will become. And if you take too much . . . You will die.

Undeniably.

Lesson quickly learned.

[Break]

I took my first life when I was ten. A very young kitten. I found it all alone in a bush. It’s mum and siblings had abandoned it. It looked sickly and frail, even for a kitten. I have lived with animals ever since Clýstra took me in. Cats, dogs, chickens, ducks, geese, cows, pigs. They have surrounded me and been part of me for all of my life it seems. I have helped the birthing of many an animal babe, and know what a healthy creature looks like . . . And an unhealthy one. This kitten was very much unhealthy, destined to soon pass and leave this world. But I was ten, and even though I knew deep inside of me that this was all part of life and that animals were meant to die as part of the great cycle of Albion life, I wanted to do something.

I wanted to try and save the creature’s life.

I knew it was not meant to be. Deep within. I had learned much already from Clýstra and knew of the rules and the balance of nature and life, but I was still a ten-year-old girl. I wanted to do something. Seeing this helpless creature affected me greatly, made my insides feel like slime and bad things that wanted to leave my body.

I put my knees upon the ground, and my hands gently upon the kitten’s quivering body. It’s heartbeat was faint and oh so slow for one so small. I could feel so much beneath my fingers and palms, just as Clýstra had taught me. The soft, downy fur almost like thin tickling feathers. The warm skin beneath, pulsing with life giving blood. Beneath, the fragile ribcage and bones, so tender and weak. All too seldom there was a slight rising and falling, as a frail breath was taken in and exhaled. The kitten didn’t have long left.

I closed my eyes and concentrated, and tried to give the pathetic creature some of my life, my living, my existence, and keep it alive. I thought it would require some of my energy, would make me give it away and weaken me, but I thought it would not be much, for I was a human many times greater in size to this frail feline.

I felt something happen, grew tense with excitement. I held my breath, trying to freeze my body in place, and also be ready for a weakening in my form. But it never came . . . The opposite happened. That’s when I knew something had gone wrong.

Terribly wrong.

I felt life flow into me, imbue my body with strength and excitation; I felt both incredibly light and incredibly powerful. As if I had just had many a night’s sleep and a filling, wholesome meal, and was prepared to do anything I chose. I felt . . . Limitless.

I opened my eyes, then took my hands away from the kitten, folding them again my chest in a gesture of protection.

I gasped.

[GASP – couple takes]

Where my fingers and palms had been touching the creature, the fur had now turned a sickly yellowish-white. My small fingers clearly outlined. It was haunting. It was not necessary for me to place my hands back upon the creature in hopes of finding that weak heartbeat and forced breath. I knew its life, its essence was gone . . . For I had taken it. All.

It was dead.

That was when the tears came and then the sobbing.

Clýstra came to me. She could have been cross with me. Perhaps she should have, but she was not. She took me in her arms and brought me back to the house. She held me for as long as I needed. I cried and sobbed and bled my tears until I felt there was no moisture left within me. The dry heaves came next, and then I was finally done.

She sat me on her fur-skin sofa and put her arm around my shoulders.

She spoke in a soft and kind voice:

CLYSTRA: Why did you do such a thing?

THYRA

[young girl voice]

: I wanted to keep it alive. To give it some of my life. My essence. So it would live.

CLYSTRA: Did you not think of the cost to your own life?

THYRA: Yes, but I thought it would only take a little. A little I felt I could spare.

CLYSTRA: Very well girl. But sadly this type of magic is something that can never be done by a sorceress. We can only take, but never give . . .

THYRA [Shock]: What?!

CLYSTRA: Ours is a magic of taking life and energy from other matter, be they organic or not, but we can never give back that energy. We can never put it back within a life-form. It can only be taken away, removed. And once that is done there is no turning back.

I scrunched up my face and became angry.

THYRA: I hate this magic. It is silly. It is mean. It makes me feel . . . Helpless.

CLYSTRA: Yes child. These are all feelings I and many other sorceresses have felt before. Perhaps all of them have at one point or another. But it is the way of the magic of the Circé, and it is also its failing. It cannot be changed or altered or improved. It simply . . . Is.

That was when the tears came again, and I discovered I did have more water to shed from my body. Clystra took me into her arms once more; it was not long before I fell into slumberland.