Ceridwyn sat on the verandah of the small cabin, pondering. She did not see the vista before her, the clear night sky, the sound of the ocean, not far away, but not within sight, as her house was tiny, tucked away at the end of a long road, in the foot of a gully.

Her mind kept wandering, from her discussions with Makoto, to the display that Isobel had made at the end of the night. Standing her ground in the face of such predatoriness had been difficult, but she had done it, facing it, embracing that which made her strong, which made her what she was. Who she was.

So if Ceridwyn was the Acolyte, the predator, and Gwynefar was the sensual child of an immoral angel, born of his touch, and the nameless one the crucible in which she was forged, then what would they, could they be, together?

She got to her feet and padded down the steps, walking down the base of the gully to the sea. The moon was out, and this night she knew that her lover would not steal away from the child-sire to see her. Standing on the beach, her gaze looking north, she could just make out the winking light of the Cape Barrenjoey Lighthouse, an old monument to a forgotten time.

So remote.

The wind blew her long hair around her, sand scrunched between her toes, the cotton skirt flapping, wrapping around her legs, the tee clinging to her like a second skin.

Never had she lived somewhere so remote as this. In Europe, Asia, Africa, the UK, they all had links, less space. Even the US and Canada and South America. Here, the space was wide, and large, and a long way from anywhere. You could not walk under the ocean from here to the US. The pressure would torpor you before you were half way there.

Have to get there.

As she stood, looking out at the ocean, she saw, just for a moment, what they could be…


Shedding her clothes, she walked down to the waters edge, and began to swim, rejoicing in all the aspects of her – the predator, the hedonist, the sensual woman, the child who remember fangs in her body, the horror of her captivity.

The fear, the pain, the pleasure, the passion, the will, the fire, the drive all combined to form something greater, and in that moment, she gave it a name….

Gwynefar ‘ap Ceridwyn
Daughter of the Crone

She rose out of the water, and out of her eyes looked three women, who together were Divine.



March 2009

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