Chapter 10 The last augur
Aeon and Armina walked through the woods, their laughter filling the air as they reminisced about their childhood adventures. The memories of playing in the glades, climbing trees, and even their occasional squabbles.
Socrates trotted behind them, while Riva, the raven, flew overhead, stopping by trail side branches as they passed.
“Remember that time we were racing down the marshes and your foot got caught in the roots of the waterlilies?” Aeon chirped.
“Yarkee! How could I forget that? That was really stupid, huh? I thought they were water snakes out to eat me alive,” Armina said, convulsing with cackles.
“Ooh, I can’t forget the look on your face when I dove in to free you from those monsters, like I was some superhero with Herculean powers.”
“Yeah, that was really brave of you… but what if they were actually snakes? Or those ugly fish that bite you in the ass when you least expect it? I’m sure those murky waters harbor such nasty little devils.”
“Nope… there’s no such thing in these parts of the marshlands. I mean… there must be some water snakes or fishes that live in there, but they’re more vulnerable to humans preying on them. I have never encountered any potential hazard in those waters. Well, except for those floating roots of the waterlilies, if you’re not careful. But in truth, those roots are home to baby fishes, keeping them safe until they’re ready to explore the sea.”
“Aah… you know so much about the Everglades, but I’ll bet you’ll lose your way up in the mountains, where an eternal fog blankets everything around you. It’s like walking with blindfolds. If you’re not familiar with the landscape, you’re bound to smash yourself into a tree or worse… a jagged boulder.”
“Cool! I’d like to see Avonstone for myself. It must be freezing out there, huh?” Aeon said, glancing at her cousin’s meager clothing. “Which makes me wonder how you can wander around wearing that?”
Armina’s delicate dress flowed from top to bottom with a plunging neckline, which virtually hid nothing beneath it. The sheer, loosely tied fabric of her dress covered her middle, where the continuous flow was broken up by a small leather belt worn quite high around her waist.
Below the leather belt, the dress opened up, revealing the short knickers that fell just below her crotch. The front of the top dress was much shorter at the front and curved outwards. The back continued to flow a short length behind her, ending in a narrow curve.
Her sleeves were incredibly long and very wide, but the diaphanous fabric didn’t seem ideal for a place with a close to freezing climate.
Armina chuckled. “We wear a cloak of bearskins over it, of course. I didn’t have use for it here, so I left it behind.”
“Right… just don’t go prancing around town with that outfit, okay? Or you might get arrested for indecent behavior.”
“I know… these town folks are quite obtuse. I find indecency in a person’s head… not in the clothes they wear. What’s wrong with exposing your body when we all got the same parts? You think the same way?”
“Of course not… but when we need to peacefully co-exist with people who think like that, we have to make some compromise.”
“Yeah… a heap of bear crap.”
Aeon laughed. “Yup, bear crap, indeed.”
The bond of kinship rekindled, and they marveled at the twists of fate that had brought them together after all these years.
As they approached the house, Aeon’s heart swelled with anticipation. She hadn’t seen her aunt Blumeia, or Blu, as she used to affectionately call her, since she was a child. The image of the last living augur of Augurria remained etched in her mind—a wise and enigmatic figure whose presence commanded respect and awe.
Stepping through the door, Aeon was greeted by Phaedra, her mother, who beamed with joy at the sight of her daughter and her newfound cousin. The room exuded warmth, adorned with vibrant tapestries and shelves filled with ancient tomes. The dining table, which usually stood bare, was now adorned with an embroidered cover and refreshments—a pitcher of blood orange juice and an assortment of delectable cakes.
“You remember Aunt Blumeia?” Phaedra asked.
“Yes, how could I not?” Aeon said, giving her aunt a warm embrace. “It’s been ages, Aunt Blu. I’m so happy to see you.”
“My sentiments, exactly, Aeonice…” Blumeia said, giving her niece an adoring gaze. “You’ve grown quite beautifully, my dear. Look at you… you got curves now. The girl I remember used to be so thin…”
“Hmm… that’s why everyone used to call me Bamboocha,” Aeon chuckled. “Same with Crowshanks here… I almost failed to recognize her with those shapely legs.”
“Well, you two must have had the time to catch up, then,” Phaedra said. “Maybe you should listen to your aunt… she’s got loads to tell about where I came from.”
“Right… I wonder why you never told me about Avonstone, mother,” Aeon said, shooting her mother a narrow-eyed stare. “Was it a secret? Does Berion know?”
“He knows nothing… and I’m not planning to let him into it. Our clan prefers to keep it that way,” Phaedra said, letting out a harsh breath. “I was actually just finding the right time to tell you… but, well… your aunt is here. Better to hear it from the great augur herself.”
As Aeon settled into her seat, her eyes turned to Blumeia, her aunt, who radiated a quiet wisdom and serenity. The lines etched upon her face spoke of a life rich with experience and a deep connection to the mystical world of Augurria.
“The earth has spoken to me… this is the right time, and that is why I’m here,” Blumeia said, flashing a wide grin. “Our ancestors were the first augurs of this realm. We are the harbingers of things to come… we hear the songs of the spheres, the whispers of the wind. We see the plans of gods in the movements of the stars, the flight of the birds, the growth of the trees. We feel the earth’s heartbeat in the vibrations of the rocks, the rushing of the rivers, the flow of the tides… we understand their language and we speak it forth. And you are one of us, Aeonice.”
“But how can I when magic is forbidden in the land?” Aeon asked.
“Yes, that is true for spells and sorcery… but the law does not know of our power. We do not cast spells… we do not interfere with a person’s will. We only listen, we only see, we only know…”
Sipping the refreshing blood orange juice, Aeon listened intently as Blumeia’s voice filled the room, weaving tales of their clan in the headlands. She spoke of Avonstone Peak, a place where their kind could practice their magic without fear of persecution from the authorities. It was a sanctuary, both physical and spiritual, where the ancient traditions of Augurria could thrive.
“I would very much like to see it for myself… and experience how it’s like to be free,” Aeon said. “I’m just not sure when it would be a good time to go… maybe after the harvest moon.”
“You are welcome anytime, Aeonice. When that time comes, you will find your way,” Blumeia said.
With each word, Blumeia transported Aeon to a realm of wonder and possibility. The stories painted vivid pictures of a hidden world, where magic flowed through the veins of their lineage and secrets whispered through the wind. Aeon’s heart swelled with a sense of belonging, of finally discovering the roots that had remained elusive to her for so long.
As the afternoon unfolded, the room filled with shared laughter and the exchange of tales. Aeon’s heart soaked in the knowledge imparted by her aunt, her mind opening to the possibility of her own potential within the mystical realm of Augurria.
Amidst the tales, Aeon caught glimpses of her mother’s pride, her eyes brimming with love as she watched her daughter and sister bond over their shared heritage. It was a moment of unity, of connecting the threads of their past to create a future steeped in tradition and strength.
As the sun cast its golden glow through the window, the stories waned, and a comforting silence settled upon the room.
In the embrace of her aunt’s presence, Aeon felt a sense of purpose awaken within her, a desire to explore her own abilities and uncover the depths of her ancestral lineage. The journey ahead was imbued with mystique and promise, and she would walk it with reverence, guided by the wisdom of her aunt and the love of her family.
As the sun began its descent, casting a warm glow over the room, Aeon’s gaze met Blumeia’s, and in that silent exchange, a shared understanding passed between them—an unspoken promise to embrace who they are, and forge a path that honored the legacy of their clan.
“The evening is almost here. We must be on our way,” Blumeia said. “But before we go, I must leave you with a sad warning… you, Aeonice, will be facing an unexpected adversity… a crucible in your mother’s heart… but you must stay strong, for you will overcome it. Like we all do. But stay true to who you are and what you truly desire. Thereafter, we shall see each other again…”