Scionwood

“Yes. Yes! That is all I need. You are all I have, Diamanda…”

She rubs friction in my soul, and I come undone in her arms as she falls like rain on my arms. 

I am alone in the room. The monthly Harrowing is complete. Then, a bright beam of moonlight enfolds me, and she is healed, whole, decked in her violet robes and painted skin once again as if nothing has happened. Her platinum hair and milky skin fall like providence onto the mirror’s reflection. Lucia’s gaze is stony, and she lifts me up with a faint smile.

“Dress warmly. We fly, then we ride,” Lucia says tenderly. “I love you, Diamanda. I do.”

I gather clothes from the closet the two of us share. “What? But where?”

Her eyes flash red violet. “To the runestones.”

“But – but why?”

Lucia narrows her brows. “I have a mission for you in Shamayim, my Magdalene. The old gods are