Alma: Surrounded by destiny

The meeting

My eyes opened slowly, the quiet hum of summer air broken only by the sound of birds outside. The warmth of the night before still clung to my skin, though my room now felt cooler, calmer. It took me a moment to remember why my chest felt so full.

And then I saw them.

Glistening. Alive. The markings.

From the base of my fingers to the curve of my shoulders, delicate patterns shimmered in the light — shapes like waves and roots, leaves and runes intertwined. I held my breath, lifting my arm slowly from under the sheets, turning it, watching the inked glow shift like it was breathing with me.

It wasn't fear that filled me. It was something else entirely.

Belonging.

A quiet knock pulled me from my trance.

"Come in," I said softly.

The door creaked open, and Ingrid slipped in before I could sit up. Her eyes fell instantly to my arms.

"So it’s true," she breathed, stepping closer. "Cibelle... they’re beautiful."

I gave her a small smile. "They feel... right."

She sat at the edge of my bed and brushed a strand of hair from my face. "Your mom’s downstairs. Everyone's already waiting. They’re preparing the garden for the ritual."

I nodded, then looked at her. "How do I look? Be honest."

She raised a brow. "Like someone who danced with the spirits and came back glowing. Come on, you know you look like the forest's favorite daughter."

We laughed quietly. A moment later, the door opened again and this time it was my mother. She stepped inside - Her eyes fell to my arms, and I watched them soften.

"It’s begun," she said, and her voice trembled just slightly. "You’re ready."

**

The garden had been transformed. Circles of herbs, candles, and polished stones marked the ceremonial space. Women in long dresses moved in silence, weaving spells into the air with every gesture, every step. There was a hum — not a sound, exactly, but something I could feel. Like magic, just beneath the surface.

I stood barefoot in the center of the largest circle, a robe of midnight blue around my shoulders. My sisters were near the edges, along with Ingrid and her mother, Cecília. A few other elders stood behind them. My mother stepped forward, her long cloak trailing over the dewy grass.

"You’ve always known this day would come," she said, her voice ringing out clearly. "And yet, knowledge does not dim the power of becoming."

She extended her hand, and I placed mine over hers. The runes on my skin pulsed faintly, glowing in response to her touch.

"Cibele of the Riverborn Line, do you stand ready to serve and lead, to protect our ways and uphold the balance?"

I inhaled deeply, and then let the words come from somewhere deep inside me.

"I do."

She pressed her forehead to mine. The air stirred. For a moment, everything else fell away.

Then she stepped back, and Cecília approached.

"As your mother stands as blood, I stand as will," she said. "As the second, I recognize your path and offer my strength."

Her hand brushed over mine — rough, calloused, steady — and something inside me aligned.

When the last chant faded and the circle released us, I was no longer just the daughter of the high priestess. I was her successor.

**

Later that morning, after the guests had left and the house quieted again, I sat at the long wooden table with Mom, Cecília, and Ingrid. A warm breeze stirred the lace curtains in the kitchen. A pot of mint tea steamed between us.

"There’s a lot to review before the meeting," Mom began, reaching for a thick binder wrapped in indigo silk. "I know you’ve trained for this your whole life, but this is your first time leading it, and things are delicate."

I nodded. "I understand."

She glanced at Cecília, who took over.

"The Black River Pack will arrive second. Green Sea confirmed they’ll arrive just before dawn," Cecília said. "Najran, the Green Sea Alpha, has held the position for three years now. He’s a calm, practical man. Strong ties to the sea witches and forest kin. Very respectful of border law."

"I’ve read his statements from the last summit," I said. "He seems thoughtful."

"He is," Mom said. "But don’t mistake thoughtfulness for passivity. He can be stern if he senses imbalance."

Cecília nodded. "Now, Ravi... that’s a different matter."

My mother’s expression darkened just slightly, though it wasn't worry — more like calculation.

"Ravi took command of Black River eight months ago," she said. "He’s only twenty-six, but he’s already made a name for himself — fierce fighter, bold strategist."

"Ambitious?" I asked.

"Very. But not reckless," she said. "It surprised many that he’s following in his father’s footsteps regarding diplomacy. He may be young, but he’s not there to make trouble."

"Still," Cecília added, "it’s a test for you both. These are large territories. The history is long, and the blood deeper than either of your lifetimes."

I sipped my tea and looked at the map spread across the table. Lines traced through forests, mountains, rivers. Our border met both packs at a three-point junction — sacred ground, old ground.

"What exactly do I do when I get there?" I asked. "I mean, in terms of procedure."

"You’ll greet both alphas formally and wait until the circle is cast," Cecília said. "Once the boundary seal is active, you’ll begin with the invocation of neutral ground. Each side will voice any concerns, requests, or changes to border policy. You don’t have to decide everything on the spot — the goal is clarity, not speed."

"And if there’s tension?"

Mom gave me a look. "Then you breathe. You listen. You speak when it matters."

"Remember," Ingrid said, grinning, "you’re not there to start a war — just to keep one from starting."

I smiled, but my stomach tightened slightly. Soon, I’d be standing in that clearing, alone in front of two alpha shifters.

"What about magic?" I asked quietly. "If something goes wrong?"

My mother folded her hands. "You know the rules. The meeting grounds are sacred. No spells, no enchantments unless all parties consent. But if — and only if — you are threatened physically, you may defend yourself."

"You won’t need to," Cecília added. "But it helps to meditate before arrival. Balance your energy. Center yourself."

I nodded.

"Focus on grounding through earth and breath. Let the spiritual connection follow. Don’t force it."

"And remember," Cecília said, "magic isn’t fire and lightning — it’s awareness. Attention. The manifestation comes later."

**

We packed the car after lunch.

My ceremonial cloak was folded carefully into a cedar box. Ingrid and Cecília would follow with the guards. I insisted on going early, alone, to meditate and prepare. The others respected that.

The drive was quiet. The roads turned from cobbled stone to narrow dirt paths, weaving through thick forest. The deeper I went, the more the world seemed to soften around me. Like the trees themselves were holding their breath.

I parked at the edge of the clearing.

Sunlight filtered through the tall canopy in gold-green shafts. The air smelled of pine, soil, and river mist. A stone circle lay ahead, etched with runes so old they seemed grown rather than carved.

I stepped out of the car and inhaled deeply.

Four hours until the meeting.

And I was ready.