“It may seem strange,” she continued quietly, “to speak about joy at a time like this, but I am sure that those who have left us would not want your lives to be shadowed by grief. I am thinking above all of Miss Miriam Scratton, whom I was privileged to know as well as anyone here at Wyldcliffe.” She glanced at me for a moment, or perhaps I imagined it. “I supported Miss Scratton wholeheartedly in her plans to reform this institution. Miriam stood on this same spot not so very long ago and talked to us about the need to let the light into Wyldcliffe. The best memorial we can make to those we have lost is to implement her plans and face the future without fear. And so there will be changes.”
The girls looked at one another apprehensively. How many of them were really ready for change? I wondered. Did they still want to be “young ladies,” or was the challenge of growing into a woman in this ever-changing world enough to satisfy them?
“This year,” Miss Hetherington said, “on the anniversary of Lady Agnes Templeton’s death, there will be no Memorial Procession.” A little gasp of surprise ran around the room. “We will of course remember Agnes with honor, though not with mournful songs and parades that look back to the past. Let’s not forget that Agnes was a young woman, as you are. Indeed, the ballroom that was so sadly damaged was built by her father to celebrate her sixteenth birthday. At the moment, the room cannot be used, although thanks to the generosity of Velvet’s father we look forward to it being restored to its former glory very soon. But even so, we will remember Agnes and all those who have passed from us with the dance that Miss Scratton once promised for you and your guests—whether they are students from St. Martin’s, or local friends from the village.” Sarah squeezed my hand and smiled with delight. We would dance openly with Josh and Cal, as Miss Scratton had once planned…. A torrent of whispers had erupted among the listening girls: “What does she mean?” “I know loads of St. Martin’s guys!” “Where will it be?” “Is she serious?”
Miss Hetherington called for quiet and explained, “We have been kindly offered the use of the village hall for the occasion. This dreadful fire has perhaps reminded us that Wyldcliffe is not just about this school, but about the wider community around us. Our school, fine and lofty though its ideals are, has shut itself away from the world for too long and perhaps grown a little…well…faded and dry, with dwelling so much on the past. Let us be the ones to open the windows wide and let in the light. Let’s welcome the future—and dance!”
For a moment no one spoke. A few of the students looked as though they thought Miss Hetherington had gone crazy. But one girl stood up and began to clap. It was Celeste. She had tears pouring down her cheeks, but she was clapping. I stood up too, and so did Sarah and Velvet, and soon the whole school was clapping and cheering, rising up like a flock of tamed birds who had been set free at last.
So that is all I can tell you. Now the circles of the past are closing behind us, and the future beckons. Celia Hartle is gone, and her coven is broken and scattered. That would be a good place to end.
But the Priestess’s dark master, the Eternal King of the Unconquered lords, still waits in the shadows, biding his time. Evil takes one shape, then another, always ready to attack the innocent and destroy what is good and beautiful. None of us know what dangers the future will bring. Helen and Agnes have passed beyond our sight, but we still have the Talisman and the Crown, and Velvet has awoken her own unique powers. We can never turn our backs on the Mystic Way, or forget what we have seen.
I believe that everyone has powers, deep within them, even the most conventional girl at Wyldcliffe, even Celeste, if she only knew it. Maybe one day a new girl will arrive at the Abbey’s gate with wind in her hair and starlight in her eyes. Perhaps she will show us new marvels and mysteries. Or it could be someone else: the young mother taking her child for a walk by the river; the girl who works in the village store; or the quiet student in the corner of the classroom that no one has ever noticed much. You see, we are all connected, and we just have to unlock the secrets of one another’s hearts to know it….
Perhaps one day our Circle will be complete again, and we will be needed once more in the endless fight against the dark, the endless dance of good and evil. Until then, I have so much, and I don’t ask for any more. My tale is almost done.
Let some of the last words in my witness to these strange events be Helen’s:
The midnight wind blows
Over the sleeping land.
Stars burn above,
And love burns in my heart.
I want to embrace
The mother hills
And the sister trees.
I want to fold my love
Around the dark stones
And the moon’s shadow.
I want to love, always, forever,
Like an ever-falling waterfall,
Now, and now, and now.
Someone is calling me,
And I will follow with a full heart,
Passing into the glimmering light
Like the ghost of yesterday.
But I don’t believe in ghosts. I don’t believe in witchcraft either, or Ouija boards, levitation, tarot cards, astrology, curses, crystals, second sight, vampires—not any of the whole mumbo jumbo of the “other side.” Of course I don’t. I’m intelligent, sane, and sensible. Girls like me don’t get mixed up in all that crazy paranormal trash.
You see, I believe in something quite different. My world is full of light, not darkness. I believe in mysteries, and miracles—and in love. Love is the greatest power the world has ever known, and it’s waiting to touch your life too, if only you believe in it. It’s in the air, and the sea, and the earth. It’s in the fire of the stars. It’s in our hearts, waiting to blossom like a rose.
Trust me. I know.
I believe.
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About the Author
GILLIAN SHIELDS is the author of IMMORTAL, BETRAYAL, and ETERNAL, the first books about the sisterhood of the Mystic Way, as well as many other books for young readers. She spent her childhood roaming over the Yorkshire moors and dreaming of the Brontë sisters. After studying in Cambridge, London, and Paris, she became a teacher. She has taught in a girls’ boarding school and also in a drama school where it was rumored that the ghost of a young girl could be heard crying in the night. Gillian was inspired to write this series in celebration of the power of first love, the strength of female friendship, and the haunting mystery of the past.
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OTHER BOOKS BY
Gillian Shields
Immortal
Betrayal
Eternal
Credits
Cover photograph © 2012 by Jamie Chung
Cover design by Amy Ryan
Copyright
Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
DESTINY. Copyright © 2012 by Gillian Shields. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
ISBN 978-0-06-200041-5 (trade bdg.)
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12 13 14 15 16 LP/RRDH 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
FIRST EDITION
EPub Edition © JUNE 2012 ISBN: 978-0-06-211434-1
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Gillian Shields, Destiny
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