The Silver Witch

Thank you!

She forms the thought without considering who it is she wants to thank, but as she kneels there, the cold beginning to work its way to her bones, Dylan’s hand still on her shoulder, she knows that she has not created this wonderful, unique piece of art alone. Someone helped her. Someone sparked the ability within her to be able to do such a thing. Someone or something. She slips her hand into her pocket and takes out the bracelet, holding it close to the pot. The designs match even more closely now that the glazes and gold leaf have brought her own creation to life. And for a moment, for an instant, Tilda fancies she sees all six of the mysterious ancient creatures in front of her move, their ribs rising and falling, their eyes glinting as they run, run, run.





SEREN


It is nearly dawn when I rise from my bed. The summer moon was bright as a coin only a short time since, but now it pales in the lightening sky as an eager sun begins to make its presence felt. The young guard appointed to keep watch outside my house is sleeping peacefully as I step over him. He has not failed in his duty through indolence but because of the draft I gave him in his portion of the stew we shared last night. I knew my time had come. I knew also that I required no men to come running in attendance, with their inevitable panic and posturing and noise. This is a moment for myself and my babe, though I know the prince would have it otherwise, were it in his power to influence the event. He is not quite lord of everything, whatever he and his followers may believe. There are yet domains he does not rule, and the birthing of a child is one such place.

The birds are already awake, sweetening the air with their song. Nighttime animals scuttle to their burrows and lairs, making way for the heavier tread of those who go abroad in daylight hours. My progress is slow, as I must halt frequently to allow my body to cramp or surge. I am wearing a loose linen kirtle and carry a soft woolen blanket and my knife. I need nothing more. Placing my palm over my heaving belly I whisper, ‘Be patient, little one.’ I continue through the copse to the secluded spot on the shore of the lake I have chosen. Here the ground slopes gently into the water, and the earth is sandy with few stones and no reeds or rushes, so that after some effort I am able to lie down comfortably enough. The second I immerse my body in the silky waters of Llyn Syfaddan, I feel my pains ease. The child continues to move inside me as it should, but my suffering is greatly reduced by the magical properties of the sacred lake. I have foreseen this moment. I have nothing to fear. And whatever my prince might secretly wish for, I know that my babe is a girl. I have chosen not to share this knowledge with him. Let him hold his infant in his arms, let him gaze into her eyes, let him feel her tiny heart beat strong and brave in her breast—he will have no room in his soul for disappointment then.

As I work to bring my child into this world, I can feel vibrations through the water and I know the Afanc is near. She has come to witness the birth of a new witch. Knowing that she is with me gives me strength. I do not want to cry out, for to do so might give me away. There have been no further attempts on my life, but I have scarce been on my own, and here and now I am certainly at my most vulnerable. I close my eyes and quiet my clamoring thoughts. I bring my will and my strength to bear and with neither fuss nor ceremony my daughter slips from me into the life-giving lake water. I quickly lift her up. Oh! She is a most miraculous thing! So small and yet so fierce. She is the mirror of myself. I see the light in her soul shining from her. Like me, she has been kissed with magic. Like me, she will be a child of the moonlight. Like me, she will be under the protection of grandmother-Afanc.

‘Welcome, my little one,’ I kiss her brow. She does not cry, but looks about her, tiny fists clenched, calm but aware even now of where she is. Of what she is. And my joy manifests itself in a glowing light, tinged blue, that surrounds myself and my babe.

The surface of the lake bubbles. I hold my breath. Will she come closer? Will she show herself, even as the day brightens and she could so easily be seen? I take my knife and swiftly cut the snaking rope that has nourished my infant these long months. I wrap the child in the woolen blanket and hold her to me as I stand. Together we watch and wait. There is a stillness in the air, as if the very woods were also stopped from breathing. The birds hush. Ripples spin out across the lake. And now, silently, with such grace as to move the hardest of hearts to weeping, the Afanc rises up from the deep. She is even more beautiful revealed in the early sunshine! I lift up my newborn, holding her high. She neither wails nor whimpers. She is not afraid. The mother-of-the-lake lowers her noble head to inspect this tiny new prophet.