Moonrise - 2 - Changes

Etta Blackwood stood alone, watching the evening sunlight dance on the water, and thought about changing her life.

She could smell the rich autumn scents of the Moonwood, with the peaty smell of old leaves and the sharp bite of evergreens. She could feel the stirring breeze that rustled through the branches, the wind whispering secrets to the ancient trees and kicking up the waves on the water. She could feel the cool spray of wind-carried water against her skin. 

Almost, almost, she could feel the magic in the earth, the air and the water. She knew she shouldn't. Her Power had been ripped away by the Council's justice, punishment for her crimes. She should be blind to the currents of magic in the world, but there was so much magic in the ancient Moonwood, even blinded, she could still see.

She wondered sometimes if exiling her here where she could almost, but not quite, touch the magic that was her birthright had been a kindness or another, subtler punishment.

"You asked to see me." The woman's voice, cool as the wind on the water, interrupted Etta's thoughts. Etta hadn't heard anyone approach, for the simple reason that the woman hadn't. She was simply there, at Etta's side, as if she had always been there. 

Tall and graceful, ageless and wise, her hair like woven sunlight, her eyes the violet of gathering twilight, Gwen Silveroak was almost painfully beautiful. Here, in a town of werewolves, she made no effort to conceal the sharply pointed ears that marked her as one of the true alfar, the timeless immortals of the Magic Realm. If the Fairy Queen stepped from the pages of a child's storybook, she might look like Gwen.

Etta pushed down the terror that rose inside her in the presence of the Elder Guardian of Glimmerbrook. She remembered the words of another story - you must never run from anything immortal.

"I did," Etta replied, forcing herself to remain calm, to show no fear. "I am pleased you came."

Gwen smiled at the antique courtesy. To thank the elven-folk directly had once been an unpardonable breach of etiquette. It was a nicety few remembered or enforced, but Etta was determined to avoid giving even half-forgotten offense. This was too important.

"You said once that you could restore my powers," Etta said after a moment. There was no reason to dance around the issue. 

"I did," Gwen agreed. "You refused. In fact, you begged me not to restore that which the Council had taken." 

"I remember," Etta nodded.

"Do you remember why?" Gwen asked mildly.

"My magic... the magic my father taught me... is dangerous," Etta said. "He raised me to hate and fear the alfar, the Old Families and the Witches' Council. He said that they are tyrants who hoarded the deeper secrets of magic for themselves... yourselves... to keep dominion over the world. He trained me to be a weapon against the Council. His weapon. All my magic was bent to that purpose."

"I should mention to Uncle Simeon that he has dominion over the world," Gwen mused, more than half to herself. "I imagine the very notion would send him to his bed in sheer horror. Magic is neither good nor evil. It is a thing of nature, like fire... and like fire it can be used to create or destroy," she added, returning her focus to Etta.

"It is easier to destroy," Etta said. "I was taught to destroy." 

"You were taught fear," Gwen said in disagreement. "To use fear, yes, but more, you were taught to fear. You fear the Council. You fear your father. You fear me. You fear yourself."

"Yes," Etta whispered.

"Why do wish to have your powers restored now?" Gwen asked. "What has changed?"

"The world has changed," Etta replied. "I'm not a werewolf, but I work with the Wildfang pack now. We patrol the outer boundaries of the Moonwood and beyond. I've seen the dangers growing. The Dark Court seems to be in disarray, but they are growing stronger... and they aren't alone. There are other things moving in the shadows. Something is taking shape in the Dark, something great and terrible. I... I want to help. I want to protect. I need my powers back."

"Do you?" Gwen asked. "You have a brilliant mind and a grasp of magical theory that rivals most magisters. You have the imagination and ingenuity to put that knowledge to use. The Council took your Power, and in its place you have made yourself into a formidable hedge witch."

"I'm... I'm blundering around in the dark," Etta cried. "I'm a blinded artist trying to paint. A deafened musician trying to play a concerto by rote memory and dreams."

"And you have achieved wonders," Gwen said calmly. "So, I ask again - Why do wish to have your powers restored now? Or perhaps I should ask - who wishes to have her power restored? Does Etta Blackwood ask for the power to protect, to do good. Or does Claudette Faust, daughter of darkest magic, ask to regain the magic that is her birthright? Who are you really?"

"I don't know," Etta whispered. "God help me, I don't know."

Gwen turned and looked out over the water, over the Moonwood. Perhaps, Etta thought, she turned her Seer's eyes to the future, to the Inevitable Moments Etta knew were gathering like a storm, just beyond the horizon.

"Summon me again when you do," Gwen said with a sad smile.

---------------

"She's right, Lux," Etta moaned.

After Gwen had vanished, Etta had walked the paths of the Moonwood alone for a long time. It had been dark when she'd finally reached the Wildfangs' old trailer and had tried her best to explain her meeting with Gwen to her friend and partner.

"I don't know the answer," Etta continued. "Am I really Etta, or am I still Claudette? Sometimes I do catch myself thinking of my witchcraft as a birthright... as something the wicked Council took from me. I know why they did it... why I let them do it. I misused my powers. I hurt people... betrayed my friends. I thought that I couldn't be trusted with those powers... but I've wanted them back. Every. Single. Day."

"So, who am I, Lux?" She sighed. "Am I really Etta? Or am I Claudette, just pretending to Etta?"

The tawny-haired woman gave her an odd look. Slowly, she stood up and gave Etta another slow, considering look, as if studying her from head to toe. Finally, she smiled.

"You're a big dummy," Lux Demarco said with a smile.

"Oh thanks," Etta groaned. "I knew I could count on you."

"Etta, I'm a werewolf, " Lux said firmly. "At least once a month, I lose control and become a Wolf rampaging though the woods, a danger to anyone in my path. The truth is I am always at some risk of losing control. It takes constant work to keep my balance.... the balance between Lux Demarco and the Wolf, because I am both, at the same time, always.

"So, have you ever considered that you, Claudette 'Etta' Blackwood, are both, at the same time?" Lux concluded.

"You're right. I'm a big dummy," Etta groaned.

"Yeah but at least you're cute," Lux smiled, kissing her on the cheek.

Etta Blackwood stood with Lux, this strange, wild woman who knew all her secrets and somehow still welcomed her, allowing her to be best friend and lover. They stood together watching the firelight dance, and Etta thought about changing her life.