Hekate – goddess of magic, witchcraft, the night, moon, ghosts, and necromancy, first to rule Tartarus, Earth, and the Sea before Zeus and his brothers took over, though she’s still one of Zeus’s favorites after she took his side in the war between the gods and the Titans to overthrow Kronos; she is a lady with a lot on her plate. It is for that reason that she doesn’t really leave the library at the center of the labyrinth that comprises Tartarus, unlike the others that were willing to meet me in my own environment, to speak with Hekate, I have to dedicate a lot more of focus towards meeting her on her turf. Unfortunately, this means autonomic writing doesn’t work for long before I’m so drained, I fall asleep with the pen in my hand, no matter how much caffeine there is in my bloodstream.

Hekate also guards the knowledge in the library jealously, refusing to allow too much of it to remain in the conscious mind after allowing human spirits to study with her until she was sure the basics had been learned and were understood. I understand her reasoning, had seen enough movies and read enough stories centered around the young, ambitious witch that got a taste of power too early and ended up going mad or potentially destroying the world and those they cared about. Cautionary tales, more than anything else, but effective, especially when considering the twenty-three punishment I was still serving for trying to do spellcraft without the basics.

With Hekate, however, the basics didn’t consist of memorizing what colors were for which purpose, or what each type of stone was used for what. It was the fundamental mechanics of magic.

*****

“Again,” Hekate said as Iona fought to stay focused.

“The human spirit can be visualized as a tank or a well,” she said with a yawn. “The consciousness contains the energy within it, creating the walls and structure needed to do so. Throughout the span of a human’s life, the darkness they encounter, through hardship and experience fills the tank. If the levels of darkness get too high, that energy can spill out into the person’s environment, drawing more negativity in towards them. If the darkness is not burned off to prevent this, the darkness can stagnate and become toxic, effectively poisoning the person’s spirit over time. If a person remains connected to someone who is neglecting their own darkness, that toxicity can spill into their tank, making it impossible to regulate. If too much darkness fills the tank, there isn’t enough room left in the spirit to burn it off, causing them to turn toxic themselves.”

“Good,” Hekate said firmly as Iona fought to stay awake, jumping when Hekate dropped a large tome at her elbow. “Now, how does one go about burning off the excess darkness within them?”

“Going back to the tank analogy,” she said, “The consciousness, the personality, of the individual, will break off to float freely in the contents like rocks rolling around in the constant agitation as the darkness filling the tank. During Shadow Work, when the person takes those pieces and clacks them together, they get a spark of inspiration,” she said, snapping her fingers to both illustrate her point and help her wake up slightly, “that ignites the darkness in the tank, which then produces light that can be focused with intent. When speaking with the gods, the intent can be refined into a Divine To-do list that allows the gods to be useful beyond simple advice and guidance.”

“Excellent,” the goddess said. “Have some more coffee.”

Iona did as she was instructed, taking a sip of the cold brew in her mug. She hated feeling so sluggish in Hekate’s presence, but it took more energy than she normally had to accomplish the connection.

“And the purpose of material aspects to spell work?” the goddess asked as Iona yawned again.

“To help the gods interpret the intent by providing a focus for the practitioner to communicate with them,” she said. “The rituals observed are to ensure that the gods the practitioner is trying to petition are the ones that get the message asking for assistance.”

“Well, done,” Hekate said, patting her shoulder, the contact causing Iona to want to nod off.

“So, do I have your approval to teach the basics?” she asked and the goddess nodded.

“Nothing more advanced than that for now,” she said. “The last thing we need is to release more complicated material without at least developing a basis of understanding.”

“Yeah, don’t need anyone else getting shoved in time-out only to realize what happened when their sentence is almost up,” Iona said, semi-sarcastically. “Did you know about Zeus's punishment?”

“I did,” Hekate admitted easily. “However, when I found out, I told him it should’ve only been thirteen years, not twenty-three. Him cutting you off from your Clair senses nearly undid the purpose of your punishment, which was just to prevent you from losing yourself before you really had the chance to develop. Thankfully, you’re too strong for it to hold out once you figured out what was going on.”

“And the added decade?” she asked, curious why Zeus would ignore Hekate’s input.

“Was personal,” she said easily then changed the subject, making it clear she had no intentions of getting into it. “Have you started figuring out the effects of the punishment?”

“Mhmm,” Iona admitted. “Loki told me what happens when the number twenty-three is applied as part of divine punishment. As my Clair senses start waking up, I increasingly lose interest in the physical world. The more interest I have in living my life, the less I can connect with the spirits. This means, the longer I spend with you all, the less likely it is for me to accomplish what I need to get done to change my circumstances.”

“And your plan for burning off the excess darkness you’ll continue to absorb from the toxic living situation you’re currently in?” she asked firmly.

“I promised Aphrodite I would burn it off writing poetry,” she said, sliding her arms forward on the tan stone surface of the worktable Hekate kept at the center of the space and resting her cheek on her forearm, closing her eyes.

“Hmm,” Hekate said and Iona didn’t have to look up to see the skeptical twist to her lips.

“What?” she asked.

“Poetry,” Hekate said. “I’d rather you be channeling your effort and energy into community projects like your Samhain Festival idea,” she admitted.

“Those aren’t community projects,” she said, lifting her head to look at the goddess. “Those are events to celebrate the gods and the community, yes, but that’s more for entertainment and to have some fun, maybe strengthen alliances across the pantheons. The community projects I want to do, personally, have more to do with bettering the overall living situations of the humans.”

“How so?” she asked.

“How about cleaning up the area the people live in, help with the homeless problem by building new homes, volunteer my services to clean up the city, raise awareness for certain issues? I have a handful of ideas that I’m not sure if their feasible yet, but it’s a place to start when I get to wherever I’m going,” she said. “Any events with the gods at the center will end up being fundraisers for worthy causes in the areas the events are held, like the creativity-based after-school care for kids in areas where the arts departments have lost funding, community gardens, things like that.”

“What about your own art?” she asked.

“You and I both know that my ‘art’ is just me trying my hand at learning new mediums,” she said. “My creativity has always been strongest when it comes to problem-solving and applying the effort. The poetry is just so I don’t forget how to feel.”

“Which reminds me,” she said, pursing her lips slightly as she stared at Iona. “How did spending the day fully cut off from your heart work out?”

“It sucked ass, to be honest with you,” she admitted. “I was ok for a while, but the apathy was so pervasive I started getting angry just to break through it.”

“How much do you remember of your life before the shift into the human world?” she asked.

“It comes in spurts,” Iona admitted. “I remembered more when I was trying to leave my body to come to visit with you. But usually, I have to start thinking about my partner to remember it. Even then, it’s only flashes and snippets of conversation.”

“Remembering your life before will help you in your coming journey,” Hekate said. “Write your poetry, if you must, but I want you to start journaling your memories from before as well.”

“Great,” Iona said with a small huff, “more writing.”

“Do you not want to remember?” she asked.

“It’s not that,” she admitted. “I do, but it makes me miss him.”

“Ah,” Hekate said in understanding as Iona rested her chin on her arm again. “I also want you to practice making altar tools,” Hekate said, gently pushing her coffee mug closer in silent instruction as she, again, abruptly changed subjects. “Don’t worry about altar plates for the deities for now,” she added as Iona lifted her head and took another drink of her coffee. “Unless they are requested from your clients.”

“I can’t accept any more gods into my head anyway,” she admitted. “As much as I hate admitting it, it’s starting to feel like the beginning stages of Possession with as many as I have trying to help.”

“I was worried about that,” the goddess admitted. “As long as you are under restriction, you don’t have the strength to stay connected to the gods constantly.”

“Is that why Hades has been curiously absent from the project?” she asked and Hekate nodded.

“As your recognized king, his presence would overwhelm your senses too much,” she explained. “I’m actually quite surprised you decided to come to me, especially since my presence is heavier than his.”

“Yeah, but you guys have made it clear that you want me to help you with the followers that practice magic,” she pointed out. “Regardless of whether or not I do it myself.”

“I want you to do magic for several reasons,” she said. “Firstly, you are more than capable and the more knowledgeable practitioners there are in the world, the better. Secondly, it’s healthy for you, spiritually and emotionally to turn your pain into something constructive, instead of holding it and allowing it to destroy you from the inside out.”

“Yes, but in the modern-day,” Iona said, again, “I claim to be a witch and I will never be taken seriously enough to work with the normies and non-spiritualists towards making positive changes.”

“Says who?” Hekate asked, almost offended. “Your parents? Your gaslighting ex? The so-called friends that tell you that your way of doing magic is wrong because you’re doing it how I taught you as opposed to what they say is ‘correct’ based on their own practice? Anyone who doesn’t take you seriously as a witch is a moron and I will take personal offense to their dismissal as your mentor.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said with a sigh, too tired to argue.

“What upsets me is how quickly you are willing to deny your natural abilities in favor of acceptance from those too blind to see the truth,” she said. “Humans have been drawing strength from their ancestors to do spellcraft for so long, they have forgotten that they can produce that same power on their own, without relying on the spirits of the dead to boost their intent. When humans rely on the dead, they also leave their intent in the hands of those that came before them. Unfortunately, those spirits could have their own agenda and warp the intent before it reaches the gods, which means a simple request for aid in finances could result in someone’s death to facilitate a windfall, all because an ancestor didn’t like the person and decided to kill two birds with one spell. The witch sees this and feels guilty for it, they stop practicing magic, and it all falls apart. The way I taught you cuts out the middle-men and reduces the chances of unintended consequences causing more harm than good.”

“Thankfully, I don’t like my ancestors,” Iona said dryly.

“Nor do I,” Hekate said bluntly. “For those that were born into rich tradition and solid foundations refined by their ancestors, who respected and honored the gods, drawing from their family lines can be a formidable source of power. But your family didn’t maintain their traditions once they were indoctrinated into Yahweh’s faith. Your father’s bloodline is where you get most of your strength, but his line rotted in the modern-day under Yahweh’s care. Your mother’s bloodline gained its strength by stealing it from others more capable than themselves. You, however, have managed to separate your spirit from both bloodlines and figured out how to filter it into something new that can be applied to both traditional magic as well as anything you develop yourself. Why do you think we’re so adamant about our followers offering sanctuary to those trying to accomplish the same thing?”

“Going by the number of gatekeepers telling Baby Witches they aren’t allowed to practice certain traditions because they aren’t from the right background,” Iona said bluntly, “I’d say your words are being vastly ignored in favor of elitism. I mean, I get the need to protect certain traditions from those that would appropriate them without showing due respect because it’s trendy or because they want instant results, which isn’t what magic is about. But closing the doors to sharing knowledge with those who will acknowledge, research, and study the practices as a scholar for their own edification as they are trying to find their own path is doing more harm than good.”

“That is for us to worry about,” she said. “Not you. You’re already doing your part by sharing your Demons’ Method of Shadow Working. But, as much as I hate to admit it, I agree with Loki.”

“Ok, now that’s terrifying,” Iona admitted, sitting up a bit straighter.

“It’s not going to be a habit,” she said dryly. “But, when it comes to you, I agree that you need to be around more people like yourself that are willing to help you with the projects you’ve been cooking up, regardless of whether or not you’re open about your witch status.”

“I know,” she admitted. “I’m just having trouble building up enough motivation. I know I only have fourteen months left on my sentence, and after twenty-odd years of just kind of existing, I should be excited. But, when I think of spending the next year in a call center, grinding away until I don’t really have any room left in the tank for inspiration, I just want to sleep through the rest of my sentence.”

“Ok,” Hekate said, claiming the seat on the opposite side of the table and clearing the space between them of the books she’d been setting out for Iona to study. “We need to work on something short-term for you to focus on, something within the next couple of months, instead of pushing the finish line so far out it feels impossible to reach. Any ideas?”

“Friday the thirteenth?” Iona suggested through a yawn.

“Reasoning?” Hekate asked with a small nod, letting Iona know she wasn’t opposed to it.

“In numerology, thirteen resonates with pragmatism and building a secure foundation,” she said. “That’s why I got it tattooed above the sigil I drew to protect my family beyond blood ties, surround them with love, and help them stay true to themselves.”

“Alright,” Hekate said with a nod. “But why Friday the Thirteenth? Why not just any thirteenth day?”

“I’ve always loved Friday the Thirteenth because it was like a mini-Halloween that could happen at any time of year,” she admitted with a small shrug. “I always believed it should be celebrated instead of feared because misfortune is nothing more than an indicator of a new cycle beginning or the Chaos Engine doing its thing to move people in the directions meant for them on their journey. The next Friday the Thirteenth is next month, August, and eight is a number of balances. Since I have a problem with being pragmatic to the point of detriment, I thought adding an eight to the mix would help remind me to take a break and have some fun now and then, instead of working myself to death.”

“And what would you like to do for Friday the Thirteenth?” she asked.

“Go visit Cptn. Sparklepants in Toledo,” she admitted and Hekate smiled with a nod. “Check out the area and the community to see if it’s really somewhere I would want to settle down for a little while or if it’s just you guys wanting me to be better connected to the witch community. When I think of it, I keep getting an image of an outdoor market with a bunch of small businesses from both the witch community and the Alphabet Mafia coming together to celebrate the day. I’m not sure how feasible that is, but it would be nice. Maybe see if we do a free movies-on-the-lawn event, play some older horror movies for the Twins. Possibly your favorite eye-candy film in the modern magic side of the genre. If we get told to stop showing movies, we can always switch it up and see if anyone would be willing to DJ with the same audio system and change the vibe to something positive, instead of getting upset or feeling targeted. I know it’s only a month, but it’s something to look forward to that can help maintain motivation. Even if the only thing I do is go up there and chill with Cptn. Sparklepants to get out from under Zeus for a bit.”

“Excellent,” she said. “And I agree with you adding an eight to the thirteen you already have tattooed on your arm as soon as you can afford it,” she said easily. “That way it’s there and in effect, even when you aren’t thinking about it.”

“I will,” she said. “After I deal with the cursed tattoo I have on my back.”

“Have you thought any more about what you’re going to cover it with?” she asked.

“A map from the Abyss to the Heavens,” she said easily. “So, anyone following me doesn’t get lost. But it’s going to be a piece that covers my entire back, which means it’s going to take forever and be expensive as fuck. For right now, I’m thinking of just blacking out the broken heart that’s already there, just so I’m not carrying Darren’s name in the line-work anymore.”

“I don’t like the idea of you just blacking it out,” Hekate said seriously. “It poses too much of a risk of inviting the apathy back in. See if your artist would be willing to alter it if you can’t at least begin the larger picture of the map. And, don’t get any more spur-of-the-moment tattoos, please. Especially the ones that you draw yourself.”

“Not planning on it,” she assured her. “Seeing how it’s actually affected, I promise, no other ink will be put into my skin without fully considering the meaning and intent.”

*****

The path from the Abyss to the Heavens, by way of Mt. Olympus, is simple.

Moving from the bottom to the top, the Abyss is darkness by itself, the spaces in between the stars where the demons hide from the light and rest in their work. Above the Abyss is the labyrinth of Tartarus, with Hekate’s library in the center, represented by her sigil (which is really just a map by itself, if you find yourself caught between two pillars, simply move forward from the center and you’ll find that the passage was hidden). Tartarus is a desolate place but, contrary to popular belief, it is not a prison. It is simply a place for the spirits to shed the guilt and the pain they have collected during their human lives. That darkness is then fed into the canals throughout the labyrinth and fed directly into Hekate’s chambers to be used for her magic.

Above Tartarus are the Fields of Asphodel, serving as a neutral ground for the deities of other pantheons to treat with the Greeks, as well as claim the spirits of those that departed the land of the living only to find there was no Afterlife Experience waiting for them because they had turned away from an older tradition. Truth be told, as serene as the Fields are, there is fuck nothing to do there except sit around. Halfway between Tartarus and Elysium, there is a large, black tree baring silver foliage and the fat, ruby fruits, similar to pomegranates, that produce the nectar of the gods as a hospitality offering to any deity who comes through. Sidebar on the tree, the reason it’s black is because it was a gift from Loki and grew in a foreign environment. However, since the tree was a gift from the Trickster, his name is Sven, and will call anyone who mistakes him for Yggdrasil a tree-sist. Yes, I am well aware of Loki’s humor. No, I did not know what he had up his sleeve until Sven started blooming. By then, it was too late. However, Sven can be quite amiable and courteous to anyone who recognizes that he is different from his better-known cousin and shows him respect by opening a portal to any Underworld requested.

In the foothills of Mt. Olympus is the collective Elysium of those that found paradise on Earth and wish to remain there, reliving their happiness until the stars burn out. For those who demand atonement from the gods, their bridge stretches straight from the Abyss to the gate of the Divine Hall at the top of the mountain, bypassing Tartarus, the Fields of Asphodel, and Elysium, where Ares awakes to parlay with the humans. When a human reaches the gate, he will simply ask if it is truly a war they desire, or if it is answers. Thus far, the only deity in the mix of pantheons working together to reconnect with the humans that refuses to show humility and ownership for leaving their followers in the hands of the demons, even to the point of detriment, is Yahweh, which really isn’t surprising.

For those of us that see beyond the halls of Mt. Olympus, when I finally get the map drawn on my back, it will go further into the cosmos, filling the space behind the mountain’s peak with the vast expanse of stars and galaxies that have yet to be explored by the humans. A reminder of the adventure I will have earned by the time my Meat Suit expires and I leave the living world, the same kind of adventure waiting for the Diamonas who choose it.

*****

“That’s going to be huge,” Cassia said when Iona finished describing the map to her.

“I’m well aware,” she said with a chuckle, shifting her phone from one ear to another. “It’ll probably cover the drama masks on the back of my left shoulder, too, not just the broken heart.”

“Aww,” Cassia said. “But that one actually suits you.”

“I don’t need it to remind me of my roots in theater,” she said easily. “Besides, I had more fun building haunted houses than dealing with my High School troupe. I never really fit in with them the way I did with the haunt crew.”

“That makes sense,” she said.

“I know it does,” she said with a chuckle, “but I’d love to know your reasoning for thinking that.”

“You said Deimos and Phobos have been with you since you were a kid,” Cassia pointed out. “Isn’t one of their acts of devotion working at haunted house events?”

“True,” she said, nodding her head to herself. “Classic theater productions are more Dionysus.”

“Well, there you go,” she said. “But I do have a question.”

“Shoot,” she said as she leaned back in her porch chair.

“How does one go about building Elysiums?” she asked.

“It’s weird,” she admitted, taking a breath to figure out how to explain it. “Ok, you know how DMs can build entire worlds for their homebrew campaigns, authors can do the same thing for their readers, and people who write plays and movies do it for their audiences?”

“Yeah,” Cassia said and Iona could practically see her nodding.

“When we build Elysiums, we take the specs from their dreams and apply it to a celestial body that has yet to be developed, integrating a Chaos Engine into the spiritual plane of that world to keep it going, even without the person who first developed that world,” she said. “It’s the same thing the demons did when Gaia decided to explode creation into existence. The gods then help to maintain the system by listening to the beings that populate the world and helping to balance the darkness the Chaos Engine produces. Gaia’s intent when she went boom was to fill in the darkness to combat the Void; to survive and continue. That’s why humans are such tenacious explorers.”

“What if you find an Elysium you really like and want to experience as a physical person? You know, live another life?” she asked, surprising Iona with the question.

“Same deal as when we were in the Abyss, I guess,” she said with a shrug. “If we have enough clout with the gods of that world, we can petition to be incarnated in a new Meat Suit. The tradeoff is that we have to forget our spiritual origins, but we can live a life in that world.”

“Did you have to forget this time around?” Cassia asked and Iona frowned.

“I forgot you and I didn’t meet until after I started remembering,” she admitted. “But, yeah. I didn’t start remembering until after the sepsis incident. I mean, some things have always been there, like feeling my partner out in the world. I’ve always known there was someone out there that I was connected to, but I couldn’t remember why I was so sure. I’ve always known there was more to the world, I just couldn’t remember the details.”

“That sounds infuriating,” she said and Iona agreed.

“It can be,” she admitted. “Especially when, sometimes, I wonder if the gods are just blowing smoke up my ass, trying to make me feel more important than I really am so I’ll help them.”

“Do you really think they would do something like that?” she asked.

“I think it’s more of my perpetual question as to why they would want my help,” she said. “It doesn’t make sense when I think about my human life. I’m not rich, I’m not in a position of power or influence, I’m not well-known. I have no idea how to navigate living in the public eye without my agoraphobia kicking up. I have no background in anything that would help me reach a large audience, let alone get them to believe me when I start delivering messages. The only thing I can do is rely on the gods, and half the time I’m not even sure what they’re cooking up. All I’m doing is rolling with it.”

“Well, what does being a professional Shadow Worker look like when you think about it?” she asked.

“Honestly, being universally hated,” she said. “I’ll always be the one to ask the hard questions and point out the hard truths. No matter how gentle I try to be, that will always cause resentment. That resentment means, no matter how many friends I have, no one will want to be around me constantly. Sure, they’ll enjoy having someone willing to do that for them, but who wants to live with a talking mirror that incapable of lying to them all the time?”

“I guess that really depends on what you have to say,” Cassia said and Iona could picture her shrugging.

“And that all depends on the person I’m reflecting,” she said with a stretch.

“Maybe that means your partner is a masochist,” Cassia said with a snort.

“Or a Leo,” she said with a derisive snort. “Always in search for self-awareness and constant growth of ego. Aware of their desires and personality enough to easily ask for everything they need, but could just as easily unconsciously neglect the needs of others in their chase for personal gain or status. When a Leo representative becomes too fond and attached to their achievements and the way other people see them, they become an easy target, ready to be taken down. Having a Shadow Worker in their hip pocket would be an easy way to protect those weaknesses.”

“I didn’t think of it like that,” she said.

“Neither did I until I started looking into the Sun Signs when I was researching my own,” Iona admitted. “It’s not exactly ideal as far as the normal compatibility readings are concerned, but I’m not looking for someone else’s idea of perfection. I’m just looking for him to get his take on it.”