“What would you do to have me?” my voice asks.
“Gisela? I’m so sorry—”
“No, no, no, Albert. Not Gisela. I only look like her.”
“Bergot?”
“Wrong again. I am her more powerful sister, Hexegot. I possess the Crown of Bergot and the Staff of Stargott.”
Who’s Stargott? A heavy and painful sensation wraps around my head. Hexegot reaches up with my hand to touch the crown, hard as bones and fused to our skull. A long staff of bones appears in our hand. The bottom is cracked or broken, possibly from use.
“I possess the magic relics. Now, I would like to make an alliance with you, the future High Priest. I will only be able to take the redhead’s form for a few more moments, but I am very close to having her as my vessel permanently. You help me, you get this.”
No. I jerk back, shaking my head. Hexegot steadies us and regains control of my form.
Oh. Hello, Gisela. She laughs inside my mind. I wasn’t sure if you could see this.
“If you’re so powerful, what do you need help with?” Albert asks, stealing Hexegot’s attention.
“One thousand years of Offerings has made me strong. I possess a great deal of magic. Dark magic, that is. Now, I wish to take over the valley—claiming what should be mine—and draw the rest of the magic from the hearts and souls of the people. I won’t need Offerings to stay alive anymore if the people of Bergot Valley worship me.”
Hexegot approaches Albert and strokes his face with my fingers. He takes a deep breath and grins. She grabs Albert’s hand and places it on my cheek, making his chest puff up, and his love-dazed eyes grow wide. I jerk backward, but Hexegot regains control and brushes Albert’s lips with mine. His tongue enters my mouth, and my stomach grows heavy and sick.
Hexegot ends the kiss. “I can be yours if you change the loyalty of the valley. Hexegot Valley. Hexegot Sanctuary. High Priest of Hexegot. Only then will Gisela and more power than you can fathom be yours. I can share actual magic with you. Do we have a deal?”
Sliding his hands to my hips, Albert asks, “How do I change people’s beliefs after a thousand years of worshipping Bergot? Why don’t you just show them your power and make them?”
“That is not how it works, sadly. I have attempted little tests, so to speak. Either the humans I’ve sampled end up dead from the dark curses, or they fear me. Belief, love, worship—that is all light magic, which I don’t fully understand. I do know it comes from within.” She places my hand on Albert’s chest. “I need you to make them worship me.”
“But how?”
“That’s for you to figure out, my pet.” Hexegot slaps Albert’s hands away and steps back. “I have my own battles yet. Do we have a deal, High Priest of Hexegot Albert Schulze?”
Hexegot sticks out my hand, which transforms into her own with white gossamer wrappings and all.
Albert nods and takes her hand. “We do, my goddess.”
I fade in and out as Hexegot shakes Albert’s hand.
Another kiss on my lips returns me to darkness. Where am I supposed to be? The woods. I was running. With Brahm.
I kiss back and find his scruffy cheeks with my fingers. I open my eyes and find myself back in the forest with Brahm. A shooting pain sears through my skull, and I press my fingers against my temples.
“Hey, hey,” Brahm whispers, cradling me and crying. “Oh, Freckles. Your whole body turned black and began to whither. Are you alright?”
“I think so.” I sit up and shake my head. “Well, no. I could see what Hexegot saw. I was her or she was me. I’m not sure.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I….no, she was in the Sanctuary speaking with Albert. They made a deal.”
“Albert?” Brahm’s shoulders go rigid. “What sort of deal?”
“Me—as his lover—in exchange for his help. Hexegot wants to possess me and take over the magic in the valley. Albert’s going to be the next high priest, and he’ll make the people worship her and not Bergot.”
“We have to stop her.” Brahm clenches his jaw, drawing deep breaths through his nose.
“How? She’s more powerful than even Bergot. If she doesn’t take over the valley, I’m worried she’ll destroy it with darkness.”
“Let’s head toward the castle and find a way in. There must be some way to stop her from using you.” Brahm kisses my lips. “We can do what Bergot said and find the crown. We have to try. Come on.”
Brahm offers me his hand, and we continue our hike through the woods and up the mountain. When our thighs ache, we take a break to lean against a tree and drink from our canteens. A little voice sings from somewhere close.
“Do you desire to hear a song, the reason you’re on this journey long?”
Brahm and I spin, searching for the source. It’s near, but there’s no one around.
“Hello? Show yourself!”
“I wish I could, but my fate is grim, I’m in a place that is dark within.”
“What?” Brahm bends to peer inside a tree hollow and under a rock before crawling toward me. “It’s coming from you. Your satchel.”
I open the flap embroidered with my name, and the singing grows louder. I rummage through my collection of items until I find the source. The bone tied to the key is singing. What was once a simple fracture-line now opens like a mouth to produce the notes. I hold it out, and Brahm stands behind me with his hands on my shoulders.
“Yes, ‘tis I, the oldest voice on earth comes from within. Let me sing you a tale called ‘Three Gifts for Three Children’:
Once upon a time, a god and goddess created the world and everything in it. From the stars in the sky to the fish in the sea, their realm encompassed everything. They formed human beings to care for the earth. Soon, the goddess grew round, and her skin glowed from the love within.
The god wished to build a happy haven for his children. So, he molded mountains into the shape of a crown, tilled soil into a fertile valley, scooped lakebeds with his hands, and traced rivers and streams with the tip of his finger. The god filled the valley with people to worship and entertain his family.
Months went by, and it was time for the goddess to give birth to her triplets. The first child was breech, and blood flowed from the goddess like a dark river. The god did his best to deliver the infant, but the goddess passed from this world. With tears brimming against his eyelids, the god cut into the womb and retrieved the final two children. The god looked at his offspring and decided to give them names.
He named the youngest Stargott, for he was born strong and brave. He named the middle child Bergot, for she possessed the majesty of the mountains. And he named the eldest, Hexegot, for she was grotesque and awful. The god believed it was she who killed his beloved wife from within.
The god built a funeral pyre for the goddess atop of her favorite mountain, where the snow shone like glass. There, the god and his three children wept. When the flames died, only the bones of the goddess remained. From the bones, the god fashioned gifts for his children.
For Stargott, he created a magic staff to shepherd humans from evil and deliver them to their final resting place in the otherworld.
For Bergot, he created a magic crown to rule the humans of the valley with benevolence and continue to draw light magic like her mother.