The witchling looked into the mouth of the cave. A few lamps burned at the very entrance. They were all the expensive oil lamps that came from somewhere far to the south. Her village would have traded many furs for them. Beyond those lamps, there was nothing except darkness. That was to be expected. Only the priest and the witch were allowed further in every other day of the year. Other’s were only allowed to leave offerings here at the entrance, and even then people only came if they had good reason. The witchling waited a moment, unsure, before taking her first step into the cave. It was immediately even cooler than the forest outside and she could almost feel the darkness ahead like a physical presence. A few more steps and she was past the oil lamps that burned much more cleanly than the animal fat candles they made in her village. There were a few furs strewn about the floor of the cave here in the entrance, some jewelry made from beads and braided fiber piled up on top. She wondered how old some of these offerings were. Some of the beads were of a design she’d never seen, so it was impossible to say.

The cave beckoned her further. She wasn’t sure how far it went or if there were other paths. None of this was shared with the chosen. Little about the cave was known by those other than the priest and the witch. This was a sacred space belonging to the Divine. Any human here was an interloper. Even after being selected, it was understood the fewer words spoken of this place, the better. Blessedly, the path seemed straight and only small alcoves appeared on the side of the cave.

The witchling felt tired immediately. She had barely slept the night before. The turmoil in the days had been unbearable, the staring and whisper so much worse than they had ever been before. Many of the young men clearly resented her, wishing they had this chance instead. And she wished the same thing. She wasn’t eager to meet the Divine. She wasn’t eager to be permanently labeled an outcast. Being chosen was always a bright spot in the lives of the men of the village but being the first woman was sure to be the opposite.

There was a part of her that was curious. What would the Divine look like? What did it (she?) want with her? The implication with the men in the village was that they had intercourse with the goddess, an act of fertility and rebirth. Would that be expected of her?

The witchling had reached absolute darkness. She walked forward, slowly, hands outstretched. Only a moment later, she saw a dull glow ahead of her. She hurried her pace, eager to get this over with, but also eager to know what she was going to discover. The cave widened the further she walked until opening into what felt like a large room. She stopped. Directly before her was a pool of water, twice as far across as she was tall. A strange light filled the room, illuminating it in a warm, golden glow. There was no obvious source of the light.

A being stood on the other side of the pool. The witchling gasped. It was a woman, was her first thought. But it was hard to tell what she looked like. The witchling took a few steps forward to see better. The reason she couldn’t make out the characteristics of this woman was that they were constantly shifting. For a moment, she looked like a young woman with fair skin and golden hair. The next she was wrinkled with silver braids. The next, a round-faced girl with red hair and freckles. The faces moved quickly, but each lingered in the witchling’s mind. The woman was now tall with skin as dark as soil after rain, which the witchling had never seen. More faces appeared, ones unlike any she had ever known. They were altogether beautiful and varied. She knew that these were not just faces created by the goddess, but those of women in distant places. One thing connected them other than their beauty. A faint glow emanated from beneath the being’s skin, it was like the gold light that filled the room. Perhaps this was the source.

The witchling paused, still mesmerized by this vision. She felt herself speaking.

“Are you the Divine?” she asked.

The many faces smiled.

“That is a name by which I am known, by which I am given form,” the voice, like the image, was many, each unique, but not overcrowding each other. They somehow echoed individually in the witchling’s mind, but altogether as a chorus. She felt the chill bumps rising along her skin.

“Why- why was I called here?” she asked. The Divine began walking towards her. The witchling’s eyes widened. It appeared as though the Divine was walking on the water of the pool, but as she looked, she saw her feet did not even touch the water. It was rather that she was walking on the air. She wasn’t sure what she expected of a goddess, but this truly felt divine to her.

The goddess stopped immediately in front of the witchling, just before stepping off the water onto the cave floor. She could see now that tiny flecks of gold light seemed to swirl under the skin of the Divine. It had an enchanting effect, one that the witchling felt she could get lost in.

The Divine spoke. “For many reasons,” the voices sang. “I have watched you since before your grandmother’s grandmother was born, and imagined each of your descendants until the very last dies thousands of miles from here, in lands your people will not know until they forget my name and their own and every piece their village is returned to the earth. I have been waiting for this moment and will look back on it.

“But that is not really an answer as I watch many things. You are here because I have a task for you.” The Divine said. She said nothing more for a moment. “Do you accept?”

“I…what is the task?” the witchling wasn’t sure if she could refuse.

“You may refuse,” the Divine said in response to the thought. “Your task is to leave this place. Leave your family and your people. Find new people and leave them as well. Continue travelling southward. And the while you will see and think of what you have seen. You will do this until you arrive at the place you are drawn. Do know worry, it will draw you. When you are there, you will be asked a question,” she paused. “Do you accept?”

The witchling had never thought of leaving, not really. Fleeting thoughts of other lands, where the beautiful things her village traded for had come from, occasionally ran through her mind. She wanted to see such wealth and such things were made. The thought now excited her. The thought of travelling seemed so foreign to her, but the traders she met always seemed so interesting and had many stories. They had mentioned high mountains covered in snow year-round and seas the same color as the sky. Temples to gods and goddesses bigger than their entire village, and cities as big as a thousand of their village. She was excited to see these things. She wondered if she would meet men and women as beautiful as the faces of the Divine.

Clearly, she had already decided.

“Yes, I accept,” she said.

The Divine smiled a thousand smiles and turned to walk back across the pool. She stopped and turned back around upon reaching the other side.

“I have gifts for you. Do you accept them as well?” she asked.

“Yes, I do.” The witchling said.

“There are three gifts. The first is this,” the Divine said. Some of the gold flecks under her skin collected together in one spot on her chest. A tiny ball of golden light appeared there and moved out from under her skin, hanging in the air. It moved forward until it floated above the center of the pool. For a moment it stayed there, before plunging down into the pool, filling the whole thing with shimmering golden light. The witchling, too, found herself plunging into the pool, although she had not made the choice to do so. Rather, her whole body had been moved forward and down into the pool.

The golden light around her was intense. She couldn’t breathe, but felt like here, in this pool she didn’t need too. She could see the golden was condense around her before flowing into her skin. All she felt was a warm, slightly tingly sensation. This lasted perhaps a moment, perhaps hours. Before she knew what was happening, the light was gone and the same force had placed her back on the edge of the pool. She felt strong, that was her first thought. There was something else as well. An awareness, almost like the feeling when the hair stands up on the back of your neck, but it wasn’t so tangible. Rather, it permeated her entire mind.

She looked at her hands and could, faintly, see flecks of gold under her skin. They were many times fewer in number than those of the Divine and much less bright, so as to be nigh unnoticeable. The witchling could see them as it was her skin, and it was a dark cave. And, in a way, she could feel them moving around. She looked up at the Divine.

“I have given you a small piece of my Divinity,” she explained. “This is my power, which comes to me from deep in the earth. You are not the only human to bear this power, but few are given it freely by ones divine. You will learn more of this power on your journey. It will allow you to do things and see things you have never been able to do.”

The witchling nodded, not truly understanding, but knowing that was the best answer she would get. The Divine know held out both her hands. Golden light began to concentrate and solidify in the air above the pool. A moment later, a staff floated there in the air. It moved gently through the air until it was immediately before the witchling.

“This staff will help you as you walk southward. It will provide you protection and aid you in other ways you may discover. Take it,” the Divine explained. The witchling did as she was told, looking down at the staff know in her hands. It appeared to be of a dark wood, polished to a dull shine. Flowers and leaves were carved throughout. It was warm in her hands and seemed to hum in harmony with the new power inside of her. It was not heavy, but felt sturdy and fit in her hand well, standing as tall as she did.

“Your final gift is a new name. Wander will be your name as you complete your task so that you will never forget what you must do. Until you complete your journey, this will be your name,” the Divine said.

For a moment, the witchling felt a strange sensation being told she would bear a new name, but she felt little attachment to either the name given her by her parents or the nickname the village had bestowed upon her. Wander. She was Wander. She must Wander. She carried a piece of Divinity in her. She would see the world. She felt, in a way, as if she had been waiting for this without even knowing it.

“Now go. The witch of your village is already preparing things for your departure. The priest will aid you as well. Go and see, Wander. Complete your task.” The Divine said.

Wander turned and went.