His Fated Queen

My name is Katherine, and I come from a long line of powerful women. I was born in 1520 on the evening of the summer solstice, a warm night with a lightning storm lingering in the sky. A powerful night, an omen into what I will become. My mother’s labour pains started while she was in the forest behind our house. She felt the magic in the air swirling around her. She had been collecting wildflowers to decorate my room when she fell to her knees and cried out to my father. It felt so much darker to her that evening. She didn’t see the shadows around protecting her from the other beings that roamed the forest, waiting for my birth, and she was afraid. My father was in the garden and heard her. He ran out and tried to get her inside. But the labour progressed too quickly. So, I was born in our garden on the grass with the lightning flashing in the sky above and the smell of rain in the air. A raven sat in a tree not far from the house watching everything that happened. No one saw the angel standing away from the shadows, watching as well. He was not happy about my birth. I would be a powerful being, and he believed only the Creator, should have that power. He felt Lucifer had gone too far for revenge. Turning, he walked back to the shimmering portal in the oldest tree in the forest and returned to heaven. It was a fast and easy birth for my mother, Margaret. A pleasant-looking woman with a quick wit and a strong personality. I was her second child, a daughter. Though she already knew I would be a girl. Since the beginning of time in my mother’s family, there was always one boy and one girl and my parents already had a son, Ethan. It was how it was with each generation and always would be. It may have been because we were witches. At least the women in my family were. The brothers were destined to watch over their sister, protecting her from those who would mean her harm. Sometimes they married and had families of their own, though most often they would not, preferring to protect their sisters, mothers, grandmothers, aunts and nieces. They went on to teach their nephews how to fight, ride, hunt and how to kill when necessary. The brothers would lay down their lives for the love of their sisters and over the generations many brothers were lost. Our family came from a very long line of witches. My mother told me we were true descendants of Eve. We were the most powerful line of witches. We descended from the first witch, Ruth, the daughter of Eve and Lucifer. The bible portrays Eve as meek and controlled by Adam. But that was not so according to our stories. Eve was strong and resourceful; Adam was weak and scared, a simple man with no power. The male-dominated religious organisations do not like powerful women who question their authority, hence the poor portrayal of Eve and other women in the bible and the suppression of their power in our world, and for some, their magic. For millennia before the birth of Christ, we were revered and worshiped as goddesses. Though no matter how much religion tried to repress women and the magic we hold inside, it is still there. Our magic is a part of us. We are nothing without it. It is our essence; our souls are drenched in it. Generations of witches were denied those powers, or had it beaten out of them, and the world is not the same because of that loss. Unfortunately, many continue to lose their power because of that fear. The first witch in a family line is born of the union between a human and a demon. Although the woman does not summon the demon for this purpose, it is still portrayed that way. Some families rejected their powers because of this. My mother and grandmother were fierce protectors of these rejected children. We had a large country house, as well as my grandparents’ house in London, which meant we could take in a few at a time and help to teach them to use and control their powers. We have always been told our line descends from Eve. That Eve and Lucifer fell in love. Soon after their relationship began, Eve gave birth to a daughter, Ruth, who was able to move things with her mind and manipulate the emotions of those around her, among many other gifts. It was said Ruth was the most beautiful and most powerful witch of our line, with raven hair and clear blue eyes like her father. There is a prophecy that she will be reborn, and that the witch will be even more powerful, the most powerful of our line to ever live. I loved it when my mother would tell me the story of Eve and Lucifer; it was my favourite bedtime story. I felt so connected to it. Especially as my powers started to grow. I felt a part of the story, as though it was my own. The story of their love came from visions of previous generations. Eve and Lucifer developed a deep bond while in the Garden of Eden, which continued after she and Adam were thrown out. Lucifer looked out for her as best he could without Adam being aware of his continued influence. But soon Lucifer grew tired of waiting for Eve and asked her to be with him, to bear his children. His daughter would be a powerful being and her line would ultimately lead to him being released from his curse. Lucifer, however, did love Eve. He spent so much time on earth with her he almost lost his powers before being forced to return to hell. Lucifer usually appeared in animal form to help protect her, but when he appeared in human form, he had hair the colour of a raven’s feather that hung down to his shoulders in soft waves and his eyes were the clearest blue, the same colour as the wolf that walked alongside her in the garden, clearer than the river that ran through the forest. He had longed to touch her from the moment he first saw her. To caress her body and feel it writhe beneath him, and she willingly gave herself to him. Her love was as deep as his for her. They spent each day together and Eve gave birth to two children. Their daughter Ruth inherited her father's gifts and became the first witch. Her younger brother Jared became her protector. Most of the stories, like this one, of my family have been passed down from mother to daughter. Since the written word, there are our grimoires as well. All our spells and stories are written in them, those that previous generations could remember. So, although there is no physical proof we come from a relationship between Eve and Lucifer, only the family tree in our grimoire, and a prophecy combined with visions of those who have that gift. We don’t know where the prophecy came from. Many believe it came from Lucifer himself, though most have said the prophecy is not complete. Some believe Lucifer will only reveal the complete prophecy when the time comes for it to be fulfilled. That it will be his queen that willingly goes to him and breaks his curse. Wherever it came from, and no matter how incomplete, everyone believes in it, a hope for the end of witch hunts, no more werewolf and vampire hunters, a time when all beings can live together with no fear of the other. My mother and grandmother have their own grimoires as all witches do, and we have our family’s grimoire. It is the most sacred item we own. The grimoire is kept in our locus sacer, sacred space, along with all the items we use in our spells and ceremonies. It is so much more interesting than any of the other books in the house, and I am drawn to it. Each witch is taught from their family’s grimoire while creating her own. When her training is complete, and she marries, she is given the family grimoire to pass to her own daughter. Our grimoire is laid out on a long altar in the middle of the locus sacer. There are candles in all different colours, crystals of different shapes, sizes and colours all surrounded by small tree branches. There are gold, glass and ceramic bowls of earth and water, stones and wine, ash and bones. There are other books along with stone and wood carvings along the table, everything to represent the four elements that our powers come from. There are dried as well as fresh flowers, leaves and herbs. We also have trunks full of candles, crystals, incense, dried flowers, herbs and linens in the room, as well as trunks and shelves of grimoires and journals. Some are from members of our family and some from families who no longer practice and no longer want the grimoires. Along with caring for and nurturing young witches, we also try to preserve as much of the history of witches as we can. There are family grimoires with family trees as well as individual grimoires. It has taken many years for my mother and grandmother to collect these books. Many were sent to us, and many were brought over by my grandmother when she came here before the birth of my uncle Peter. There is a lot of power in this room. My father, brother and our servants never enter it as they can feel the power in here and know it isn’t for them. They aren’t afraid of it; they just avoid it. The altar is in the middle of the room and is covered in afternoon light from the large round window at the front of the house. It always looks like the book is blessed by the sun itself each day. My grandmother, Elizabeth, chose this spot for the altar. She works with the element of fire, and she says the sun helps to recharge her powers. Our grimoire is a large, brown leather-bound book. On the front of the grimoire is a stamp of the phases of the moon. We don’t know how old it is exactly, but it is at least a few hundred years old. It smells like dried rosemary and lavender. Most of the spells are in Latin, some are in English, Spanish, French and a few are in languages I don’t recognise, that are much older. Alongside many of the spells are pictures, sometimes a list of ingredients. There are dried herbs and leaves stuck to the pages. It is beautiful and powerful.