I was never one to enjoy people fawning over me. But due to my ‘pure’ witch blood and lineage, others attempt to curry favor with me everywhere I go, especially in Witch territory. I thank the moon goddess that my parents did their best to raise me like any other normal child. They encouraged me to run around the Louisiana outdoors with the children of our coven, climb trees, and rub dirt on my wounds. They taught me to value everyone based on their actions and behaviors, rather than their bloodlines. If not for that, I would surely have ended up the spoiled and haughty ‘pureblood’ princess that others expect me to be.

Whether I liked it or not, the upcoming days would involve a lot of socializing with the high society of the supernatural. Just as I had over the last five years, I wished to wiggle out of my coming-of-age ceremony and the festivities commemorating the Supernatural Peace Covenant. By the time a witch turns 21 years old, they are supposed to undertake trials to select their calling and accept the promotion from an apprentice to a specialized magic practitioner. That is, unless the moon goddess chose them for a higher-ranking position within the coven, like a High Priestess/Priest/Priestix, Mentor, or Maiden. Once a witch born of nobility (one of the few remaining pureblood witch lineages) finalizes this coming-of-age ceremony, they are expected to attend at least one of the annual SPC festivities as goodwill ambassadors to represent their coven.

For five years, I staved off my coming-of-age ceremony to avoid the challenges that would come with being promoted by the moon goddess and receiving an official role within my coven. My parents probably regretted molding me into the free-spirited, witty, and willful woman that I became once I insisted on attending a human college outside of our territory before going through with my ceremony. I wanted to experience life in a big human city, learn more about the world, and fulfill some of my wanderlust before my future was set in stone. I spent those years earning a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree, which allowed me to create many unforgettable memories. I acted in plays and musicals produced by my theatre club, and explored various art forms, including creative writing, playwriting, drawing, and painting. My human friends and I would drink, dance, and party whenever we had time. And on breaks between semesters, I would travel wherever I could. I wished that I could live that way forever, untethered to destiny, responsibility, and expectations.

But I had to graduate eventually. Which was how I ended up back in witch territory, being fawned over by attendants as they prepared me for my long-overdue trials. The elders and other high-ranking coven members hadn’t been too pleased with my time away from the coven. I was only allowed that freedom because of my family’s lineage. My mom held the position of our coven’s Mother, and my father served our coven as a High Priest. 

My father had been acting as a High Priest since his ceremony at the age of 21, so he was very close with the elders and held a great deal of sway as one of our coven’s two formal ritual leaders. When my mom had her ceremony at 21 years old, she was selected as our coven’s Maiden. The way the Maidens, Mothers, and Crones are selected and cycled could be a bit confusing for outsiders. Typically, one begins as a Maiden. In Witch culture, Maidens aren’t defined by chastity but by whether they’ve found their fated mate and decided to start their own family. Once the moon goddess foresees that a Maiden is transitioning into the next phase, a new Maiden is selected. The previous Maiden is temporarily relieved of all coven duties so that she may focus on starting a family with her mate, her pregnancy (or pregnancies), and caring for her children. Once her children are old enough, another Maiden is selected, and this one becomes active again in the role of Mother. The same sort of cycle repeats for the next phase. 

The amount of time each woman spends fulfilling or being relieved of each role varies, supposedly because the moon goddess tailors her divine pattern for each of her beloved daughters. Our coven firmly believed that the moon goddess had forged a destiny for every one of us. The thought of my fate being predetermined felt… Constricting. Like I was a puppet attached to strings, dancing to the moon goddess’s beat. I had gotten a taste of freedom, but I was ultimately dragged right back onto the path she set for my life. How depressing.

I was pulled from my thoughts when one of the women assisting me with my ceremonial attire yanked the strings of my corset so tight that I struggled to breathe properly. For the trillionth time, I wished that I weren’t a pureblood witch. If I weren’t considered noble, I could have participated in the trials wearing something free-flowing, comfortable, and simple. But as things were, I had to look the part of a princessy damsel for the ‘honor of my ancestors.’

The women milling about me continued to adjust my undergarments, slip a pure white dress over my head, and braid my curly, hip-length auburn hair. I glanced at myself in the floor-length mirror as one woman placed a crown of flowers atop my head. My almond skin contrasted with the white fabric. I had to admit, the dress was pretty. It had long sleeves that flared out, so that when I danced during the ceremony, I would appear as if I had fluttering wings. The neckline dipped into a low V-shape, showing off my cleavage that was accentuated by this goddess-awful corset. The black crescent moon tattooed between my breasts peeked above the white lace, like a moon shrouded by clouds. The bodice of the dress snugly hugged my waist as the skirt flowed loosely to my calves. I was, and would remain, barefoot throughout the ceremonial ritual and my trials. 

The white dress, flower crown, dancing around a bonfire, and being barefoot were among the traditions that needed to be met to fulfill the coming-of-age ceremony for females. However, they were more of a precursor and ritualistic offering for the actual trials. I met my eyes in the mirror. Green almond-shaped eyes flecked with golden honey and framed with long, dark lashes gazed back at me. A smattering of freckles sprinkled across my button nose and cheeks. My full, rosy lips were settled into a slight pout. The door to my room swung open after three familiar rhythmic knocks.

“Oh, my goddess! Juniper Lenore Bellamy, you look positively radiant!” My mom was by my side in a flash, grabbing hold of my hands, grinning ear-to-ear, and surveying me approvingly. “We MUST take pictures! When your father sees you, he is going to bawl his eyes out! Look at our little Juni all grown up!”

I sighed and smiled down at my mother while she continued to dote on me, showering me with endless compliments and love. The short, adorably plump woman had a mass of coppery red curls piled into a messy bun on top of her head. A few coiling tendrils of copper spilled onto her lily-white forehead. Her blue-green eyes shimmered up at me with motherly adoration, freckles dotted the landscape of her heart-shaped face, and her button nose, much like my own, was crinkled with joy. This little firecracker, Mona Lavender Bellamy, was the best mom anyone could ever ask for.

Unlike me, who tends to gravitate toward certain types of people (namely other free spirits, wallflowers, and troublemakers), my mom is a social butterfly who can befriend, comfort, soothe, empower, teach, or engage with anyone. I’ve always wondered if those abilities were required of someone selected for the role of the Mother. If so, the goddess knows that I wouldn’t ever be qualified. My mom’s excited chatter faded into background noise while I contemplated my future once more. Tonight would decide once and for all which path my life would take. Anxiety began building in my chest as I realized that there were innumerable experiences and possibilities that I would never get the chance to encounter. Compacted with the corset squeezing me tightly, my anxiety intensified, making it difficult for me to take in any air. My breaths became quick and shallow as my eyes became unfocused.

Warm hands cupped my cheeks, and the sensation settled me enough to take in a long, shaky breath. A soothing aura wrapped around me. As my eyes refocused, Mom gazed at me with quiet concern, warmth, understanding, and motherly love. She crooned, “There you go, little Juni. Deep breaths. Three seconds in, hold it for four seconds, three seconds out. Good girl, you are doing wonderfully.”

Once the panic attack receded, I felt a swell of pride and adoration for my mom. She had always been so kind, caring, and patient. This wasn’t the first time for me to have a panic attack; I got them often after I hit puberty. And she was there every time, holding me and guiding me through the worst of it. I hoped that one day, I could be half the mother she is to my future children. “Thanks, Mom.”

She smiled sweetly at me and asked, “Do you want to talk through whatever was going on in that pretty little head of yours? I might not have all the answers, but sometimes all we need is to bring our fears to light. Things always seem spookier in the shadows, Juni.”

I breathed out a sigh as Mom led me to the loveseat in my room, where we sat. “I’m nervous about the ceremony, the finality of the path the moon goddess will choose for me, and my future. You know how I feel about freedom over fate. I know I should feel ecstatic to find my purpose, but it doesn’t feel like it’s MY purpose, MY choice. Maybe I’ll be happy when it’s all said and done, but right now… All I feel is scared and uncertain.”

Mom’s arms wrapped around me; she rocked me and patted my back soothingly. “Oh, my little Juni bug. It’s okay to be scared and unsure about the future. We were all frightened and confused at one point, just like you are now. Just because the moon goddess has a hand in the path our life takes, doesn’t mean we lose our freedom or ourselves. She guides each of us onto our best path, so that we can flourish and grow into the best version of ourselves. Sometimes our paths may seem scary, difficult, or feel like we're headed backward… But if we put one foot in front of the other, the experiences we go through become important lessons that will benefit our tomorrows.”

I relaxed into her embrace, breathing in the calming scents of lavender and sage that always clung to her clothes. I nodded along as her words soothed my mind and soul.