For Lyra Lupin. Her suggestion for a Samhain fic. :)

Disclaimer: This fic deals loosely with religion. It is purely for the purpose of entertainment and I mean no disrespect or dishonor to any religion. I personally do not practice any particular religion. I based this fic loosely on the history of medieval times when Christianity swept over Europe and pagan rituals and practices where folded into the new Christian religion. This fic should be read as more metaphor and allegory than a factual treatise on religion and history.

Into the Darkness: Part I

At the castle they had adopted the religion of the One God, but in the village they still practiced the Old Ways. Every year on October 31st little Sofia accompanied her favorite teacher, Mister Cedric, to see the wild colors and costumes of the village fair during the day, but every year she was ushered back to the castle before nightfall. She had to watch from her windows, seeing the hills light up with towering bonfires. Even across the water separating the castle from the village, she could hear the sounds a revelry: people talking and laughing, the steady beat of drums, the fluted music of pipes. And just distantly she could see the outline of dancers silhouetted against the fire. And she longed to be among them. To be part of the celebration.

As a child she merely thought she was missing out on one great party. The revelers seemed so much more entertaining than the stuffy affairs at the castle. When she lived in the village, her mother used to let her to watch the fires lit from the bottom of Carver's Hill, afterwards she was ushered off to bed, lulled to sleep by the sound of the drums. Her mother told her stories about the God and the Goddess: How they made the world, why the seasons changed, who blessed the crops.

When they moved into the castle, she followed her new father and siblings every week to chapel where an old man in white robes intoned about the One God. The king, a pious but not zealous man, allowed every servant leave to attend, but never punished those who choose not to. One drowsy Sunday, little eight year old Sofia looked about her, bored. She watched Baileywick, covertly writing notes on the King's agenda while only paying half a mind to the sermon. She saw her maid Violet, head bowed in reverent prayer. So many familiar faces and names, but she realized who wasn't present. Mister Cedric never attended mass.

One day she thought to ask him about it.

"Mister Cedric, how come you never go to the church on Sundays."

He paused, in the middle of measuring out ingredients for a potion. "I didn't know it was a requirement."

Her pert little nose crinkled. "It's not. Dad says everyone is welcome, but no one has to go."

"Then why do you go?" He'd turned back to his potion, his dry tone suggesting he didn't expect an answer.

She furrowed her brow, thinking hard about it. All her life grownups told her what to think on such matters. Her mother loved her, and wouldn't lie to her, so she believed her when she said that they followed the One God now. At the time Sofia had simply shrugged and accepted it. In her mind there was room for all, she never thought that going to church meant she couldn't still believe in the God and Goddess as well. In her child's mind she saw them as people. The One God was like a kind old man with a beard, a grandfather. And the God and Goddess were grown-ups but younger, like her mom and dad. Weren't her parents always telling her there was room in a family for all?

"I go because Dad wants us to and Mom says we have to work hard to be a part of our new family. I think Dad would be sad if I didn't go."

"Hm," was the only response she got and she could tell Mister Cedric wasn't really listening. Grownups were like that sometimes, wrapped up in their own heads.

But now she was really thinking about it. "In the village, Mom used to tell me about the Old Ways."

"Really?" Cedric turned now, one eyebrow up.

Sofia was eager to show off her knowledge now that she had his attention. She always liked to impress Mister Cedric. "Mm-hm. I learned all about the God as the Horned One and the Goddess. Or was it Goddesses?" She struggled to remember. "There was a young one, a sort of mom-like one, and an old woman?"

She looked to him for confirmation. He sighed heavily, giving up on his potion and drawing up a stool. Sofia recognized him moving into explanation mode. Mister Cedric always acted annoyed when she pestered him with question, but she could tell he really liked to hear himself talk.

"The three incarnation of the Goddess are the Maiden, the Mother and the Crone, representing the circular movement of life."

"Like the seasons," she piped up eagerly.

"Yes," he nodded, "Like the seasons."

"The maiden is like spring, all young and new. The mother is like summer and fall when everything grows. And the old woman-"

"Crone," Cedric supplied.

"Right, the Crone is like winter when everything dies. That's sad."

"I suppose, but then spring is reborn into the maiden again."

"Yeah," she smiled thinking about it. "And the God is like a stag, or something. Mom says the God and the Goddess join in the springtime, um, Beltane, I think it's called. And that's how we get all the crops and stuff. I don't really know what that means, the joining together, and she would never tell me. But you seem to know all about it, so can you tell me?"

Cedric's face seemed to drain of color while simultaneously flushing. "No!" He said firmly, standing up, his customary symbol that their discussion was over. "I am not having that conversation with you. If you're so curious, you can go ask your parents. Now get out so I can get back to my work."

"Okay," she chirped, completely undeterred by his annoyed tone.

But she never did ask her mother. In fact she forgot all about it until the next Samhain. Being queen now, her mother was too busy around the castle to do all the things they used to do together. The thought made her sad, and sometimes she missed the days in the village. She missed the warmth of the people, everyone knew everyone else and would stop in the street just to talk. In the castle she worked hard to learn the names of all the servants, but they rarely had time to talk, as they were always working.

There was a great fair down in the village and Sofia wanted to go very badly, but her mother and father were busy. She was haunting the front staircase out of boredom, hoping to find something to do when she saw Mister Cedric heading towards the doors.

"Where are you going, Mister Cedric?"

His shoulders went up at the shrill tone of her voice, but he pasted a tight smile onto his face. It didn't look very sincere, but she thought it might be rude to say so. "To the village. Good bye."

"The village," she bounced down the stairs. "Can I come with you, please?"

"No," he responded immediately.

She grabbed onto his sleeve. "Please, please, Mister Cedric. Mom and I used to go every year to the Samhain festival, but now she's too busy being queen, and I so want to go."

He delicately extracted his sleeve from her fingers. "No."

Her shoulder drooped, though she tried hard not to let her disappointed show. It wasn't polite to impose upon someone's plans. "That's okay."

She turned to wander away when she heard his heavy sigh. "All right, fine. Go ask , he waved his hand, "whoever it is you need to ask for permission."

"Thank you, Mister Cedric," she rushed to hug him, but he quickly shooed her away.

"Yes, yes," he grumbled. "But I can't babysit you all day."

Her mother blinked with surprised when Sofia rushed into the study, begging leave to go to the village festival with the sorcerer. Cedric wandered in behind her at a more respectable pace, his arms crossed glumly over his chest.

After assuring that Cedric was indeed willing to chaperone the princess (to which he nodded, muttering under his breath) her mother laid out a few rules. Sofia was not to pester Mister Cedric too much, she had to wear her warmest cloak and she must be home by dinner. Sofia threw her arms around her mother's neck in gratitude.

"Now, hurry," Miranda pushed her gently towards the door, "Go get your cloak, and don't keep Mister Cedric waiting any longer."

As Sofia hastened away she heard her mother's voice offering thanks to the sorcerer. Curious, she paused to hear what Mister Cedric would say.

"I must tell you, your highness, I am not particularly comfortable with this. What would King Roland say about his newest daughter reveling with the pagans?"

"I will speak to my husband. And you know full well Roland tolerates the celebration of the Old Ways."

"For now," Cedric grumbled, with unmistakable bitterness. "Is there anything I should know? Perhaps what is and isn't advisable to tell her should she start asking question, which you know full well she will."

"Roland wants the children raised in the new religion, but I've been adamant that Sofia know the Old Ways as well. There is nothing you can't tell her, just keep any information age appropriate. And please don't feel you have to take on the responsibility of teaching her the old religion."

He snorted. "I should think not. I want nothing to do with coming at theological odds with the king."

"And what about you Cedric? Do you practice?"

"I can't say I practice religion much," he answered, his tone careful, "but I was raised to respect the old magic. Obviously I believe in the power of ritual. You can't really be a sorcerer and not respect the power of the elements."

"No," Miranda chuckled. "I suppose not."

Sofia wanted to continue listening but she didn't want Mister Cedric to get impatient and leave without her, so she hurried to her room to grab her wool cape.

The day that followed was glorious, and she would always look back on it fondly. Despite her mother's instruction, she dragged Mister Cedric about by the hand, flitting from stall to stall in her excitement. As the princess she had nearly unlimited freedom to purchase anything she wanted, but coming from humble beginning she kept her purchased frugal and few. She bought Amber new hair ribbons, James a carved wooden sword, and for herself she bought a caramel apple, which she ate carefully, not wanting to appear like a piglet in front of her beloved mentor. She bought a caramel apple for Mister Cedric as well, knowing sweets were a weakness of his.

The day was wonderful, and despite his earlier protests about not wishing to play babysitter, Mister Cedric only insisted they return to the castle when dusk was setting in. On the walk across the bridge, she rubbed her tired eyes. At the castle steps, she turned her cherubic face up to him, smiling adoringly. "Thank you, Mister Cedric, I had a fantastic time."

Though he tried to keep his stern veneer, a smile quirked up the corner of his mouth. "I had a surprisingly good time as well, Princess. Now go inside before your parents have my head for keeping you out past late."

"Aren't you coming?"

"No," he answered enigmatically, turning around and heading back towards the village.

That day was the beginning of a tradition. Every year Sofia went to the Samhain festival with Mister Cedric, and for years she grumbled about her curfew, but relented because ultimately grownups knew better and she was raised to respect her elders. But as a precocious fourteen year old, that began to change.

"But why do I have to go home now," she whined. "The fun's just beginning."

"That's exactly why you have to go home," Mister Cedric laughed dryly, "You're too young for the type of 'fun' going on down there."

Sofia inferred he meant all the drinking. She'd seen the kegs of ale and mead, stacked tall. Her parents let her have a little watered-down wine with dinner now and then, but she always wanted to taste mead. That is was made with honey, she reasoned, meant it was sweeter.

They strolled across the bridge, heading towards the castle. Sofia didn't take Mister Cedric by the hand any more like she used to as a child. Over the years things had begun to change between them and she knew better than to act too familiar with him. Her parent always encouraged affection, but she knew without being told that people would look askance at a bachelor being hugged and petted by a teenage girl. But that she didn't touch him, didn't mean she didn't care for him.

She twirled a giddy circle in the middle of the bridge. "Do you like my dress? You haven't said a word about it."

"It's very nice," he answered without glancing at her.

She frowned, pouting. Now that it was a tradition, she had a dress made every year especially for Samhain. This one she'd picked out all on her own. She had shed the lavender gowns of her youth, wishing to appear older and sophisticated. Her dress was swathed in ruffles of cream lace, accented in deep russet velvet. She fancied the color complimented her auburn hair, which she'd arraigned with care. That he hadn't taken any notice made her shoulders sink in disappointment.

"It's a shame," she wheedled, unable to let the subject drop, "to waste a new dress on just a few hours at a festival. I asked Mom about going to see the bonfires, but she said I was too young. But, perhaps, if you ask her-"

"Absolutely not," he interrupted, never changing his deadpan tone.

She crossed her arms, sinking fully into a snit.

Then to add insult to injury, he said, "The bonfire reveries are no place for a child."

"I am not a child," she snapped, her petulant tone at odds with her words.

When they reached the stairs of the castle, she turned, glowering at his already retreating back. "But you get to go." She knew it was a silly thing to say, as he was obviously an adult, but she felt unjustly insulted.

He answered without turning around. "When you're twenty-eight, you can go by yourself as well."

She continued to glower as he faded into the dusky light. That was another thing she'd come to realize over the years. Mister Cedric was certainly older than her, an adult, but he wasn't nearly as old as she first expected. Not so old as her parents, and so at times she felt safe speaking to him in a away she would never dare with her mother or father or Baileywick.

At fifteen, she was much the same, pestering Cedric with questions: Why? Why? Why? Why couldn't she stay after dark? Why couldn't she have just a sip of mead or spiced wine? What happened after dark that no one would tell her?

At sixteen she'd learned some tact and restraint. In the months up to Samhain she worked on her mother subtly, bringing her unexpected trays of tea and sweets to share, doing extra chores, making sure not to bicker with Amber. Her diligence paid off. On Samhain, though her mother worried her lip with her teeth, she allowed Sofia an extra hour past dusk, if it wasn't too much of an imposition on Mister Cedric. And absolutely no alcohol.

Mister Cedric rolled his eyes, but acquiesced. "If only to stop you pestering me," he said.

So excited she could barely contain herself, she flitted around the fair all day, taking a non-stop stream until Cedric threatened to take her back to the castle just to get some peace and quiet. She'd calmed down after that, because she wanted to spend as much time in his company as possible. She watched him surreptitiously from under her lashes all day, admiring the lines of his jaw, the delicate length of his fingers. Lingering over a display of ribbons, she held one to her hair, shyly inquiring his opinion. She'd learned that over the years too, how to garner his attention instead of demanding it like a spoiled child. He seemed much more eager to engage in conversation when she spoke in dulcet tones (patterned off her own mother's engaging personality) than in the whining drone of a little girl.

He'd blinked at her, taking in the sight of the velvet ribbon, a rich plum color, against the auburn luster of her curls. Clearing his throat, he managed to a reply in favor of the bauble, which she bought at once and tied in her hair right them.

As they toured the festival, she saw several of her friends. She stopped politely to speak to each of them for a time. Ruby and Jade admired her dress, more sedate and elegant this year. When she came across Lucinda, the witch passed her a cup that appeared to hold plain water. "I charmed it," she whispered conspiratorially. "It's mulberry wine."

The witch danced merrily away, wiggling her fingers in parting. "May the blessing of the Goddess be upon you." She winked.

Sofia waved goodbye before taking a tentative sip. It was indeed wine and she drank the rest slowly, taking demur sips. One cup of wine wasn't enough to make her drunk, but she did feel pleasantly light after that. It felt delightfully deviant, doing something naughty right under Mister Cedric's watchful gaze.

As dusk fell, she followed Cedric and the flowing crowd of villagers to the top of Cutter's Hill. It was so exciting to be going with the collected group instead of heading away for once. A large pyre of wood was piled in the center. Sofia anticipated that someone would simply light the fire, signaling the night time party to begin, but she was surprised by the respectful hush of the gathered men and women. She glanced around in the fading light. The familiar faces of the villagers were tight with anticipation, but their bodies remained still in deference to a man and woman standing before the piled wood.

Food was stacked in alters scattered over the hillside. Sofia eyed them curiously.

"Offering to appear the dead." Cedric's voice was so close to her ear that she startled.

He went on, his tone hushed so as not to disturb those gathering around them. "On Samhain, it is believed that the veil between worlds is at its thinnest and the dead can walk the earth."

Sofia knew as much, asking many years before about the gruesome masks worn by children and adults alike as they went door to door collecting food. She hadn't known the food was for the dead spirits, though, assuming they were collected for a feast for the living.

"I thought it was a celebration of the harvest," she said, mostly for an excuse to keep him talking and close to her. The hushed intimacy of his whisper sent a delightful new sensation dancing down her spine.

"In part, yes, but it is also an acknowledgment of the time of year when the darkness takes over the light."

She turned minutely towards him, gazing up through her lashes. She hoped her expression only suggested scholarly interest.

"With winter coming," he continued, "The harvest is brought in from the fields, the herds are brought in from the pastures, some animals will be slaughtered and the meat preserved for the cold season. But with the long, dark days of winter, many believe the passages between the worlds are thinned. The bonfires are to keep the spirits at bay. The offerings are to appease the dead."

"And these wandering dead," she asked, "Are they supposed to be dangerous?"

His smile was sly, belying his suspicious attitude towards the superstitious tales. "Depends on the spirit. The Aes Sidhe, the fairy people, can be quite vicious when they want to be. Then there's the more begin haunting of souls that didn't pass on. I believe you've met some of those before. Then you have the more menacing demons of the One God and his burning underworld."

Menacing fairies, ghosts and demons, such tales would hardly give her a turn, but as the sun dipped below the tree line, standing on this wild hilltop, Sofia shivered, holding her cloak tightly closed. She shifted closer to Cedric. She still dutifully attended church with her family, but she always hated any mention of the eternal damnation of Hell. Of the leering ghouls and pitiless devils. She'd never thought of them roaming the land of the living.

"Is that why my mother never allowed me to stay out past dark before? Fear of ghosts and demons?"

"No, your mother is far too sensible a woman to put stock in such nonsense. I expect her worries lay in the far more tangible threats of the living."

Crinkling her brow, she wondered what he meant. But then a man and woman were stepping forward, taking her attention. The man and woman stood before the unlit pyre, arms raised to the sky.

Before she could ask, Cedric whispered, "The high priest and priestess."

The woman began to speak, "In honor of the Goddess, She is Maiden and Mother throughout the year, and tonight we honor her as Crone."

The man stepped forward, "In honor of the God, He is wild and animal and fertile, and tonight we honor him as the Horned God."

A young maiden stepped forward, bearing a basket. From the basket she first took a small loaf of bread, offering it to the High Priestess who took a bite, then she did the same to the High Priest. Each time the girl intones, "May the blessing of the Goddess be upon you."

She set the bread down, picking up a cup. This she presented for each to take a sip, saying, "May the blessing of the God be upon you."

The girl set the cup down and turned. "In honor of hearth and home, The Mother and Father, the God and Goddess, watch over us tonight as we honor them."

The High Priest took over, saying, "We light this bonfire for the powerful Goddess and her mighty horned consort, the God, and for the safety of home and hearth. On this, the night of Samhain, when the Goddess is a wise Crone and the God is a wild stag, we honor them both."

The Handmaiden said, "This is the time between the worlds, a time of life and a time of death. This is a night unlike any other night. Ancient Ones we ask your blessing. Goddess, great crone, mother of all life, we thank you for your wisdom. Horned God, master of the wild hunt, keeper of the forest, we thank you for all that you provide."

The crowd remained hushed, but a path opened, through which Sofia could see a torch being brought up the hillside. A man handed the torch to the high priestess with a deferential bow. She held the fire aloft, before setting it to the base of the pyre. The kindling caught, small at first but growing quickly. Light began to pour into the clearing once again and Sofia was glad for it. The congregation began to move then. Some approached the alter set by the High Priest and Priestess, dropping offering of herbs, bread or small tokens.

With the warmth of the fire on her face, Sofia managed to shake the superstitious fear of otherworldly spirits. With the somber ceremony over and the fire burning high, a group of men struck up a tune, some playing drums, anther a pan flute, and another the viola. Several people carried cups, and she could smell the pungent, sweet perfume of fermented ale. Talk sprang up all over. This is what she wanted to see.

A hand landed softly on her shoulder. She turned to see Mister Cedric looking down on her with an almost apologetic expression. "Time to go," he said.

"What? Now?" She frowned. "But the celebration just started-"

"And will be getting out of hand soon enough. Your mother gave you one hour past sunset and by the time we get back to the castle we'll barely make it."

Her bottom lips pushed out, pouting. She wanted to argue, to throw barbed words in his face, but he really did appear sorry for making her leave. And it wasn't his fault. If anything-

"All right," she said, turning to go without protest. "And thank you, for letting me stay."

He blinked in apparent surprise. "It wasn't me. Your mother-"

"Sets my curfew," she interrupted him gently. "But I would not have been able to come at all if you weren't willing to accompany me. So thank you."

He seemed a little flustered by her unexpected praise. They were nearly through the crowd before he managed a modest. "You're welcome."

Author's Note: The words for the Samhain ritual were adapted from one I found online. I can't seem to find the same website where I got it from.

I am 90% certain this will only contain 2 parts. It will only spill over into 3 if the second chapter gets out of hand length-wise. But it is essentially a long one-shot. This story was very much influenced by Marion Zimmer Bradley's The Mists of Avalon., though it has been a very long time since I read it. Not sure when chapter 2 will be out. I seem to be on a bit of a hot streak with updates. Let's hope it continues. :)