Ella and the Goddess's Light
The pool before us is wide and expansive—more of a large pond, or even a lake, shimmering beneath the open sky. I tilt my head, curious as I gaze at it, remembering Cora's description of a small pool tucked away in the forest. This one… perhaps it changes for each child, each pair of godparents. I look up at the moon, smiling fondly at the thought of my mother and her blessings—and her occasional trickery.
"Ready?" Sinclair murmurs.
"Almost," I quip, stepping close, rising onto my toes for a kiss. He smiles, bending to meet my lips.
"Ready now," I say, grinning.
Sinclair takes a moment to admire me in the moonlight, running a hand through my loose hair. Then, we approach the pool's edge.
"Goddess," he murmurs, his voice low—she can hear him. "We bring to you, tonight, our nephew Jesse. May he come to know you."
"We wish to show him your light," I repeat the words Henry taught me, a shiver tracing my spine. "And in doing so, may you see him and grace him with your spirit." The light reflecting off the pool brightens, subtly at first, then more boldly. Mother is here, ready to meet Jesse.
"Here you go, baby," Sinclair murmurs, holding Jesse so I can quickly unswaddle him. With the baby safe in my mate's arms, we hold Jesse over the pool, bathed in moonlight.
He kicks his little feet and fusses, frowning at the sky before giggling. I can't help but laugh, smiling down at my spunky nephew, already overflowing with love.
"He is called Jesse Sinclair," my mate says, his voice choked with emotion. I glance up to see him gazing at the baby, his first nephew, the son of his brother and best friend. "His parents, Cora and Roger, have asked us to dedicate him to you. We do so in their name." I grin, snuggling close to my mate. How many babies have been dedicated to the Goddess with these words, welcomed into wolf culture? How many more will our little family bring into the fold?
But there's no time to ponder this, for something stirs in the air beyond Jesse.
"Oh," I breathe, my eyes widening. Then, I inhale deeply and am swept away by my mother's vision, a glimpse of Jesse's destiny.
My heart leaps as images flash before me—a happy childhood, a handsome boy full of laughter and pranks. By his side, almost constantly, is another boy—dark-haired, slightly taller, always laughing and shouting with his cousin. Rafe! Happy, healthy, and Jesse's best friend, just as I dreamed.
I yearn to grasp each moment as it flies past—a camping trip, gathered around the fire with Roger and Sinclair; a birthday party with Jesse's face illuminated by eight candles. I want to study each detail, but tears stream down my cheeks as I surrender to the experience, knowing that life, like this vision, will rush by. If I cling to each moment, I'll miss it entirely.
My joy deepens as I realize that beside Jesse and Rafe, as they grow, there's a little girl. A little girl with a heart-shaped face and rose-gold hair, always between her brother and cousin, laughing and playing with them. Then, a vision of the three, draped over couch pillows like exhausted puppies, asleep where they landed. Though there's no definitive proof, I know she's mine—the baby growing within me. She's there, as much a part of their little group as I hoped she would be. Jesse has a rich friendship with his cousins; they're a matched set.
I wipe my face, blurry with tears, but eager to see more. The three are older now, in their early twenties, dressed in black, gathered around a fire in a stone-walled room overlooking a dark landscape. They chat and laugh, their cheeks ruddy and healthy, tired but happy. Jesse is tall, a spitting image of Roger with Cora's warm brown eyes. He laughs easily, tossing a cashew to Rafe, who's Sinclair's double. And our little girl is there! She looks so much like me. The three are a team, inseparable. I shake my head, puzzled, because they don't look like college students. But wherever they are, they're happy and together—more than I could ask for.
The vision fades, replaced by another, and Jesse is alone. The laughter is gone, replaced by determination. He moves through a star-flecked darkness—a palpable darkness—and I watch him manipulate it, moving through like silk in water. Then, when he emerges…
I gasp, for it's a different world, shrouded in darkness. He looks up at a moonless sky—not just a moonless night, but an absence I can feel. He bares his teeth, draws a dagger, and storms forward. The vision ends.
"That can't be it," I breathe, frantic. I whip my head to my mate, his face equally pale. "That can't be it! We need to know! He has to come back!" Sinclair shakes his head, a mystery.
"That can't be it!" I shout, livid, stumbling forward, my feet sinking into the pool as I glare at the moon.
"Ella!" Sinclair shouts, reaching for me.
"You can't leave it like that!" I shout at the moon. "You can't send me back to my sister with that as your final image! I won't go!"
"Ella, please," Sinclair pleads, seeing me stumble, my shoes sinking into the mud.
"I'm not going!" I shout, waving him off, my gaze fixed on the moon. "You owe us more than this!" Soft words, barely audible, kissed by starlight, reach my ears.