As Above, So Below
Copyright © 2022 by Dana Isaly
All rights reserved.
Published: Dana Isaly 2022
Editing: Sandra at One Love Editing
Formatting: Tori at Cruel Ink Editing & Design
Cover Design: Cady at Cruel Ink Editing & Design
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author. Except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a piece of fiction. Any names, characters, businesses, places or events are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to persons living or dead, events or locations is purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you are reading this book and have not purchased it for your use only, then you should return it to your favorite book retailer and purchase your own copy.
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Limit of Liability/Disclaimer of Warranty: The publisher and the author make no representations or warranties with respect to the accuracy or completeness of the contents of this work and specifically disclaim all warranties. The advice and strategies contained herein may not be suitable for every situation. This work is sold with the understanding that the publisher and author is not engaged in rendering medical, legeal, or other professional services or advice. Neither the publisher or the author shall be liable for damages arising herefrom.
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter One: Branwen
Chapter Two: Branwen
Chapter Three: Branwen
Chapter Four: Branwen
Chapter Five: Branwen
Chapter Six: Branwen
Chapter Seven: Branwen
Chapter Eight: Branwen
Chapter Nine: Branwen
Chapter Ten: The Demon
Chapter Eleven: Branwen
Chapter Twelve: Roth
Chapter Thirteen: Branwen
Chapter Fourteen: Roth
Chapter Fifteen: Branwen
Chapter Sixteen: Branwen
Chapter Seventeen: Roth
Chapter Eighteen: Branwen
Chapter Nineteen: Branwen
Chapter Twenty: Roth
Chapter Twenty-One: Branwen
Chapter Twenty-Two: Branwen
Chapter Twenty-Three: Branwen
Chapter Twenty-Four: Asha
Chapter Twenty-Five: Branwen
Chapter Twenty-Six: Branwen
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Branwen
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Roth
Epilogue: Branwen
Enjoyed As Above So Below?
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Dana Isaly
The sleep paralysis is back. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen him — my demon. But I know it’s him when the room gets warmer, and yet my limbs won’t move. I look around, my eyes the only thing not frozen in place.
And then I spot him. A black, inky spot in the corner, just far enough away that I can’t see him clearly. But I know it’s him like I know my mother’s footsteps coming up the stairs. He’s been around for almost half a decade now, watching, listening, and waiting. Waiting for what, I’m not sure. But I can sense there’s something he wants.
“Hi,” I say in my mind, trying to get his attention. He never reacts, never acts like he can hear me, but I speak to him silently nonetheless. “I spent all day with the girls today,” I tell him. “We practiced spells, and I tried to help them gain some power, wield their magic in a way that might help them get stronger.”
Silence.
“Jadia has the most beautiful spells,” I continue in my head. He’s heard all about my best friends, but I keep him up to date on everything we do together. “She weaves them like poetry, but her magic barely responds. Same with Mags and Lilly. It’s like their magic isn’t listening. I don’t know what to do. I meet with them almost daily to help them. We spend almost every waking moment together. Granted, not all of it is used for practicing.”
I smile, thinking about the intense gossip session we had today.
“Do you remember me talking about Kegan?” I ask him, carrying on my one-sided discussion. “Everyone is throwing themselves at him lately. It’s like he woke up having grown a few inches and gained a couple muscles, and suddenly, he’s the talk of the entire coven. And if you aren’t friends with Kegan, you don’t exist.” I laugh to myself. “I guess he is your stereotypical beauty,” I admit. “Blond hair, blue eyes. A lot of people wonder what there is not to like.”
I pause before continuing, hoping that mentioning another guy in his presence will maybe garner a reaction. I don’t think I’m ready to admit to myself why I’m so desperate for a reaction. But nothing happens. I exhale and continue.
“But there’s just something that feels off to me. I’m not sure what it is, but the way he seeks me out in a crowd…I should be flattered, right? That’s what the girls say. They’re always eager to catch his attention when he’s around, giving him compliments and hanging on his every word. They encourage me to pursue him, but I’m not interested. I’m not really interested in anyone.”
My mind wanders a bit, thinking about who I could be interested in. My eyes find my demon in the corner, still as stone but still watching. Always watching. Why doesn’t he ever talk to me? Or at least nod his head, wiggle a finger, breathe.
I take as deep of a breath as my body will allow.
“Anyway,” I tell him, moving on to the next bit of gossip I learned today. “Mags has told me that she has a crush. There’s this warlock that works at the pier doing something I can’t remember. He’s a bit older than her…quite a bit older, but I’m not judging. And I’m definitely going to the pier with Lilly and Jadia tomorrow morning to scope him out. Mags will probably kill us, but we can’t help ourselves. He sounds hot as hell, and I have to get my eyes on him!” I laugh.
I look over at my demon again to make sure he’s still there, my ever-watchful therapist and confidant. He’s not moved a muscle, his yellow, glowing eyes blinking every once in a while. I wonder if he sometimes gets tired of listening to me drone on and on about my friends. Although he may not even be real. This could all just be a dream. But it feels too real to dismiss, and I wonder if he’ll ever move, speak, or just give me some sort of sign.
“Are you real?” I ask him suddenly, waiting for a response I know won’t come. I’ve asked him this countless times. He never answers. Not even a tilt of the head or two blinks for yes and one for no. He’s just frozen in time over there in the corner of my room, hiding in the shadows.
“Nothing much else happened today,” I move on. “When I came home from hanging out with the girls all day, Asha clung to me like glue. She’s growing up so quickly. I was hoping that she may want to hang out with me and my friends, but she never asks. She never even seems to be interested.”
I mentally shrug.
“I asked her once if she wanted to. She’s fourteen now, plenty old enough to just hang out with us around town. And soon, she’s really going to start coming into whatever powers she has. It would be beneficial for her to work with us and practice her spells with us. She’s going to need to learn what her style is, what she was gifted with, and how it all works. I’m personally hoping she’s going to be just as strong as I am. I don’t like being the only one in the coven that has a full range.”
My demon begins to shrink away into the darkness, like he’s being called home. And I feel my eyelids get heavy. He’s leaving, and it’s pushing me back into sleep, just like it always does when he abandons me.
“Don’t go,” I beg him, the overwhelming feeling of sadness creeping into my core. I never like this part. I look forward to falling asleep every night, knowing he may show up and stay a while. It’s sad to think that my best friend is a make-believe demon. But I hate waking up with only vague memories of the shadow against the wall.
I think he pauses for a second, but I can’t quite tell. It’s so dark in here, with only the waning moon as light.
“Can you let me see you?” I ask him. “Can you let me move so that I can come closer?” I’ve also asked him this a few too many times to be dignified. I sound like a starving beggar. But I can’t help it. I don’t like mysteries. I have to know if he’s real or just a figment of my dreams.
He slinks further back into the darkness, and my eyelids sink even further shut.
“See you tomorrow, at least?” I ask as a last-ditch effort. “Please?”
No answer comes, but he disappears completely, and I’m pulled fiercely back into sleep.
My mother’s fingers dance through my hair at lightning speed, braiding and tying. She pulls pieces of the blue-grey hair out of my face, pinning it back so that my paint is on display. I watch her in the mirror as she whispers spells of protection and weaves them into my hair.
Tonight is the ritual. The one that will allow me to become the youngest High Priestess in our coven’s history. At the ripe age of twenty-seven, I am the most powerful witch in our community. Which, to be fair, may not be saying much as the rest of our people are struggling. For the past decade, the witches and warlocks haven’t been able to come into their powers, and no one has been able to figure out why.
And yet, something about tonight isn’t sitting right with me. I should be excited, but there’s a heavy cloud hanging over my head, weighing me down and draining my energy. I lift a palm and snap my fingers, bringing a spark of flame to light. It hovers for a moment before it flickers out, shooting a puff of black smoke into the air and soot out to my fingertips.
Well, that’s not good.
I meet my mother’s eyes in the mirror, and we stare at each other for a moment before she doubles down on her spell whispering. Grabbing the black kohl from the stand in front of me, I watch my reflection as I add to the ritual paint that has already been wiped across my face. It covers my eyes, going all the way across my temples to my hairline and down to my cheekbones, where it drips over my cheeks. It stretches up my forehead in an eruption, leaving hardly any empty skin.
I draw lines from my bottom lip over my chin and down my neck to the hollow of my throat with my thumb. I do this three times, silently calling on the fates with each stroke to protect me tonight. Asha walks into the room as I finish, sitting in front of me and grabbing the pot of white ash. She dips a small brush in a bowl of water and then into the ash before drawing lines and symbols over the black on my face.
“There’s a heaviness in the air,” she whispers.
“Ack!” our mother says as she waves her hands in the air. “Do not speak it! You will manifest it!”
Asha’s lips turn up in a smirk once Mother finishes and leaves the room.
“I feel it too,” I tell her. “I haven’t heard from anyone all day, not even the girls, and I’ve chosen to be part of the council. They should have at least checked in, right? And Kegan hasn’t spoken to me for days.”
“It’s probably the jealousy.” She finishes her line work and sits everything down behind her. “Or they’re plotting against you.”
“Manifesting!” I tease her, doing quite the impression of our mother if I do say so myself.
“Get your robes on,” she says as she stands to leave. She grabs my shoulders and kisses my forehead, her lips coming away black. “I’m so proud to be your little sister.”
I smile at her for a moment, and once she leaves, I begin to strip. The ritual takes place in front of our entire community, and I wear nothing but heavy velvet robes. Pulling on the soft fabric, I lift the hood up over my ornate hair, making sure it shadows most of my face.
Mother makes sure everything is in place before she follows me out of the house. The heaviness only increases once the cold September air hits me. The robe does little to protect my naked body from the breeze, and soon, I feel myself start to shiver.
I could easily make myself more comfortable, conjuring a simple warmth charm, but my anxiety begs me to leave it alone. That little voice in the back of my mind won’t shut up. And when I look up into the night sky, I see why. One, two, three, four, five, six. Six crows fly overhead.
“One for sorrow, two for mirth. Three for a funeral, four for birth. Five for heaven, six for hell,” I murmur.
“Branwen,” my mother scolds, grabbing my arm and pulling me close to her side. “You are manifesting!”
“I didn’t manifest that, Mother. Six crows just flew overhead. At nighttime. Something is wrong.”
“Did you see those crows?” Asha asks, out of breath from running to catch up with us.
“Shh!” Mother shushes her. And if looks could kill, Asha would have gone up in flames. Mother is panicked as well. She can talk all she wants about manifesting this and that, but I know her well enough to see that she’s nervous.
Asha comes up to my other side and links her arm through my own. She’s fully dressed, looking like the little goth kid that never grew up. Her heavy boots clomp on the ground, and her alabaster skin sticks out harshly from the holes in her jeans.
My arms are bare to the wind, and the body heat from my mother and sister isn’t doing much to keep me warm. I’m incredibly anxious, barely able to breathe as we get closer to the open field. I can see the firelight glowing in the distance, beckoning us to the ritual. My bare feet are wet with dew, and my toes sink into the soft dirt with each step.
This should ground me. The entire experience of being bare to the elements is supposed to connect me with nature and prepare me for the role I’m about to take on. But if anything, it’s making everything worse. My senses are heightened in the worst way, and I feel incredibly overstimulated.