“Once a Representative agrees, we must take the reliquary to the stump of the tree that was used to make it—"
Her mother interrupted. “Wait. What if we did not fell the tree, or do not know the spot where the tree was felled?”
“Then we should ask the carpenter that provided the wood if he knows.”
“Correct. And if the carpenter does not remember?”
Jularra hesitated and started to pick at her lip. She looked to her mother in shameful silence. Amala sighed before gently admonishing her daughter.
“Jularra, we must make every effort to fell the tree ourselves. If you ever need, or want, to make a replacement reliquary, or need to teach others, you must select the tree and bring it down yourself, like we did the tree for this reliquary. Only if someone is entirely unable to bring a tree down on their own should they source the wood from a merchant or carpenter. If the wood supplier cannot direct you to the stump of the source tree, then, and only then, must the person performing the blessing select an alternative stump—one they know has been used in other blessings.”
Amala ran out of breath and sucked in a gulp of air before huffing it back out in frustration.
“It is terribly important that you memorize this process, dear one. You must memorize this, and so much more, if you are ever to grow in your knowledge.”
“Yes, mother. I am sorry! I remember. The link between a witch and the Gods, and the prospect of being visited, is weakened the more removed one is from the tree.”
Amala nodded with a slight return of approval.
“Oh!” Jularra blurted, pleased with herself that she knew the next few steps. “And whether it was the reliquary’s actual tree, or one selected by the one doing the blessing, we place the reliquary on the stump and recite the Prayer of Presentation.”
“Correct,” Amala said with enthusiasm. “What purpose does the Prayer serve?”
Jularra bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut as she thought. She was having so much fun in her perpetual state of awe and wonder at the enigmatic Gods. Though young and inexperienced, Jularra had an extreme appreciation for what she did not yet know. Her fascination made such topics as the Prayer easy for her to remember. Her eyes popped open.
“It is to let the Gods know that a new witch is coming to them. To show respect, to learn, and to offer a vessel to be visited through, to receive Credellions signifying that the reliquary owner has been confirmed to know a certain level of magical skill.”
“Well done,” her mother said kindly. “And what are the words to the Prayer?”
She didn’t hesitate.
“Life of the forest, portion now given to death, please look kindly upon this reliquary that you have become. Let it age with me and guide me. See the Gifts of the Gods to me safely through it, should there be any. In return, I will serve you, your brother forests, your sister waters, your children flowers, and parents earth.”
Amala placed the candle back in the sconce and walked slowly over to Jularra. She wore a grin that made Jularra feel more loved than she could ever remember feeling.
“You rattled that off without thought or hesitation,” Amala said with a slightly muffled pride. “It’s because you’re interested in the most tangible parts of magic. The parts of the arts that bring you closest to the energy of the world. I can understand that.”
She knelt down until she was eye level with Jularra. She stroked her hair and spoke to her in words weighted with concern.
“But listen to me. You must regard every aspect of magic with the same passion, love, and respect. Every element is as important as the other. Any one part will diminish if the entirety of it is not treated equally. You must memorize the mundane, as well as the exciting. You must serve the tree stump as you might the Prayer—any prayer, any incantation, invocation, or spell. Embrace the night as you might the sun.”
Jularra stared into her mother’s eyes. Her words etched themselves into Jularra’s mind and soul.
“I have no doubt you would have learned this on your own,” Amala continued softly. “But I want to help you learn sooner rather than later. You and your skills will only benefit.”
Amala held her daughter’s eyes for a moment before standing up, grabbing her as she did so, and placing her back on her lap.
“Now,” she said. “What comes after the Prayer of Presentation?”
“The Representative will make the Request of Acceptance,” Jularra answered.
“Right,” her mother confirmed. “This is when the Representative asks the Gods to establish a bond with your reliquary, and use it to visit and deliver any Credellions you may earn.”
“And if they agree and establish a bond to the reliquary,” Jularra started, “the box will glow inside with light, and will seep through any seams or holes in the wood.”
“Precisely,” Amala said.
“That will be evidence that my first Credellion has been granted,” Jularra continued, “and their acknowledgement of my reliquary to confirm it as an official bond between me and the Gods.”
“Very good,” her mother said before kissing her forehead. “Very good. Just remember those beginning parts about felling the tree, the importance of doing it yourself, and the importance of remembering the location of the tree’s stump. All of that is as important as anything else.”
“Yes, Mother. I will.”
Amala kissed Jularra’s head again and gently set her off her lap. She stretched out her legs and looked out of the window towards the western sky. The dwindling light had passed well into dusk. The light from the room made it seem that much darker outside.
“We will visit Vylas tomorrow. He is a Representative, and we will ask him to bless your reliquary.”
Amala looked back to Jularra.
“As you go to sleep tonight, run through the steps in your mind. Memorize them. You have most of it, but don’t neglect
