Slowly, like lovely wraiths from a hell-realm, the witches appeared. (qos)
I haven’t been able to shake this quote since the witch series. How amazing would it be if we see Elain, a powerful seer and witch, peer into and/or travel to Hel like a wraith with her friends Nuala and Cerridwen? I’m so ready for all of their spooky adventures and missions together.
Literally wrote an entire dissertation on a crack theory that Azriel could be a witch prince, but I don’t want this section lost in the crack, especially during Elriel month, bc I think it’s so interesting and potentially compelling. Re-posting this section to highlight it.
Mates. Let’s look at some TOG excerpts:
“After your mother never returned, your father was asked to couple with another young witch. He was the sole carrier of the Crochan bloodline, you see, and should your mother and you not have survived the birthing, it would end with him. He didn’t know what had happened to either of you. If you were alive, or dead. Didn’t even know where to look. So he agreed to do his duty, agreed to help his dying people.” Her great-grandmother smiled sadly. “All who met Tristan loved him.” Tristan. That had been his name. Had her grandmother even known it before she’d killed him? “A young witch was chosen for him especially. But he did not love her—not with your mother as his true mate, the song of his soul. Tristan made it work nonetheless. Rhiannon was the result of that.” (KOA)
“The crone read her question in her eyes. “Our men dwell at our homes, where they are safe. This camp is an outpost while we conduct our business.” The Crochans had always given birth to more males than the Ironteeth, and had adopted the Fae habit of selecting mates—if not a true mating bond, then in spirit. She’d always thought it outlandish and strange. Unnecessary.” (KOA)
So a few very, very interesting words and lines here. This passage is about Manon’s mother, an ironteeth witch, and her father, Tristan, a rare Cochran prince. Manon muses to herself about how the Cochrans (more fae than valg) adopted the habit of taking mates. In fact, Manon says they adopted the habit of selecting mates- which might be a big clue for what we could potentially see in Elain’s journey. Do witches select their mates- circumventing the entire predetermined bond process? She then goes on to say that if the mating bond is not true for witches, as it is for fae, it is true in spirit. She then says she finds it not only “outlandish” and “strange” but “UNNECESSARY.”
And then we have this dialogue between Rhys and Feyre in ACOWAR. The song of his soul. True in spirit. And then:
“A mating bond can be rejected…There is choice. And sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly. Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some … preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that. Some natural function, not an indication of true, paired souls.”
Rhys tells us that mating bonds can be rejected, there is choice and the bond can pick poorly. He then says the mating bond is not always an indication of true, paired souls. So Manon, a Cochran Queen, who is half Ironteeth, tells us she finds mating bonds to be unnecessary. She tells us if the bonds between witches are not true as they are for the fae, they are true in spirit. Perhaps it’s possible that witches have different bonds- the song of the soul, true in spirit and perhaps those bonds are selected or chosen.
We then have Manon and Dorian with this interchange:
I’d hate for you to waste away into nothing. It’d be a shame to lose the most beautiful woman in the world so soon into her immortal, wicked life.” “ I am not a woman,” was all she said. But hot temper laced those molten gold eyes. He gave her an indolent shrug, perhaps only because she was indeed in chains, perhaps because, even though the death she radiated thrilled him, it did not strike a chord of fear. “Witch, woman … as long as the parts that matter are there, what difference does it make?” (EOS)
Not women. Witches. They were all young and beautiful, with hair and skin of every shade and color. But even from the distance, she picked out the one Rowan had pointed to. Her hair was like living moonlight, her eyes like burnished gold. She was the most beautiful person Aelin had ever seen. (QOS)
We have Manon saying she’s not a woman…but a witch. Aelin also says “Not women. Witches.” And then we have this:
“Her mouth tightened, the only sign of anger in her graceful countenance. “I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a male.” She wanted a human man.” (ACOFAS)
Are “mating bonds” different for witches? Are they bonds of spirit and not true mating bonds? Elain doesn’t want a mate or a male, but that’s of no consequence if the witch she wants to be with is Azriel…because, if Azriel is witch prince, witches don’t refer to their men as males. They refer to them as men- as the Cochran matron did. They also don’t assign themselves a gender (“not women. Witches” “I am not a woman”). Feyre thinks Elain is referring to a human man…but maybe not? Is Sarah giving us a hint here? Maybe this is a hint that she will end up with a witch man. When I tell you I would lose my mind….
Maybe Elain doesn’t want a mate or a male or a man…but a witch.
I am whole-heartedly pulling for a witch princess and witch prince.
This is a Maasverse post, and as such, there are spoilers for all Maas series. Proceed with caution.
A mystic is someone who gains a heightened sense of consciousness and seeks to become one with divine beings. The word mystic derives from the Greek word to close the eyes or lips. When Elain uses powers that are reminiscent of mystics, she does this:
Elain again glanced at the map. At me. Then closed her eyes.
Her eyes shifted shifted beneath her lids, the skin so delicate and colorless that the blue veins beneath were like small streams. "It moves...," she whispered. "It moves through the world like...like the breath of the western wind." (acowar)
As I mentioned in The Ancients, an oracle, which derives from the Latin word to pray or to speak, was believed to be a messenger, or conduit, for gods. In acowar, Feyre suspects that Elain hears the whisperings of the Cauldron. She is also more inclined to pray than her sisters, suggesting it to honor her father and using it when her younger sister is in mortal danger.
Had she beheld this, in whatever wanderings that new, inner sight granted her? Had the Cauldron whispered of it while we'd been away? I hadn't the heart to ask her. (acowar)
The Cauldron is connected to a divine trio (Mother, Cauldron, and Fate/Forces That Be) like the Three-Faced Goddess. Mystic and oracular powers seem to complement one another, and would suggest a deep connection with the gods. It makes sense for Elain to be able to gain higher consciousness, become one with gods, and act as a divine messenger and protector through her Sight with a combination of these gifts. I believe Nesta's interlude with the Mother was just the beginning. In The Ancients and The sense chanted, I mentioned that the Blueblood witches were known for their rituals in caverns and forests, and were considered oracles, mystics, and fanatics. The priestesses in the Night Court also have rituals in a cavern.
Gwyn huffed a soft laugh. “In part. We honor the Mother, and the Cauldron, and the Forces That Be. We have a service at dawn and at dusk, and on every holy day.” (acosf)
The dusk service helped Nesta scry with stones and bones. But what about the dawn service, a time of day Elain is repeatedly connected to?
Elain had already departed with Feyre, claiming she had to be up with the dawn to tend to an elderly faerie’s garden. Cassian didn’t exactly know why he suspected this wasn’t true. There had been some tightness in Elain’s face as she’d said it. Normally when she made such excuses, Lucien was around, but the male remained in the human lands with Jurian and Vassa. (acosf)
Elain wakes with the dawn to garden or bake, but Cassian suspects she wasn’t telling the truth in this scene. What could she have planned? This occurs after she says she can reacquaint herself with her powers, and that her family can find her when they wish to begin. It’s possible she began experimenting with her powers in earnest at this point. On winter solstice, Nesta suspects she might be training with the twins and/or spymaster, so that is one plausible option Sarah wanted to plant. Another possibility (and these can both be true, so it doesn’t have to be one or the other) is that Elain may have sought out knowledge about her gifts at the library and learned about the dawn ritual. Could the ritual the priestesses perform at dawn help Elain understand and hone at least one thread of her Sight?
As Gwyn poured herself a glass, she said, “At the temple in Sangravah, we had a set of ancient movements that we would go through every sunrise. Not for battle training, but for calming the mind. We did cooldowns after those, too, though we called them groundings. The movements took us out of our bodies, in a way. Let us commune with the Mother. The groundings settled us back into the present world.” (acosf)
The wording here is interesting: the movements took them out of their bodies, in a way, and they used the groundings to settle back into the present world. This ritual sounds like what mystics might be able to do, and it also seems made for Elain for a few different reasons:
the time of day, as she is compared to the dawn;
the concept of drifting away to connect with the divine, as she sometimes behaves as though she isn’t entirely present;
the earthy term to remain tethered to the world, as she is a gardener and brings forth life from the ground.
What if the priestesses in the library do something similar at dawn through ancient movements rather than ancient songs (or both)? While it would make sense for this ritual to take place underground in the same cavern, there might be a reason reclusive Blueblood witches needed access to the wind. Does it help them become an unseen force, help them travel on the wind? I can imagine Elain with her eyes closed, embracing the song of the wind as the sun rises with her consciousness, her soul.
@silverdreamscape theorized about Gwyn and Elain using their powers together, and I think that’s a possibility given the presence of priestesses in the bonus. They will continue to play a part moving forward and one (or several) of them could be helpful as Elain explores her powers since they may also seek to commune with the divine. Like calls to like, after all.
Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, “Can you truly fly?” He set down his fork, blinking. (acomaf)
She angled her head, hair shining like molten metal. “Do you sing?” He blinked. (Azriel’s bonus chapter)
These conversations are separated by time and space, but they are eerie in their similarity. It’s like the Harp echoing Elain’s earlier words about reacquainting herself with her powers. And it inevitably brings me back to the two glass caverns: could the priestesses, and perhaps Gwyn specifically, function like sister-glass for Elain, linked in song and dreaming? What would it look like to commune with the Mother, or travel with the Cauldron? Something like this, I'd imagine:
I could not remove my hand. Could not pry my fingers away. I was being shredded apart, slowly, thoroughly. I flung my magic out, desperate for any chain to this world to save me, keep me from being devoured by the eternal, awful thing that now tried to drag me into its embrace. [...] Some tether slipped, and my mind slid closer to the Cauldron’s outstretched arms. I felt it touch me.
And then I was half gone. Half there, standing silently next to the Cauldron, hand glued to the black rim. Half…elsewhere. (acowar)
Feyre becomes one with the Cauldron through a living bond. She is half there, half elsewhere like a mystic. This is a liminal space, like the time when services occur and the bridge where light and dark meet. It is a time of transformation. Elain's wooden rose is also placed in a liminal space next to the Mother on the mantel, giving us a big hint for her future:
Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess–perhaps even the Mother herself. (acosf)
Now, let's look at how the Cauldron moves through the world to imagine how Elain might move if she communes with it:
Flying through the world. Searching. The Cauldron now hunted for that power that had come so close … And now taunted it. Nesta. The Cauldron searched for her, searched for her as the king now sought her. It skimmed across the battlefield like an insect over the surface of a pond. (acowar)
-
Come, Nesta’s power seemed to sing. Come. The Cauldron caught her scent and hurtled us onward. We arrived before the king did. The Cauldron seemed to skid to a halt at the clearing. Seemed to coil and reel back, a snake poised to strike.
The Cauldron moves like a force, starting as an otherworldly bird of prey and shifting form as it moves. If this reminds you of Elain and Urd, the goddess of fate, you're tracking with me.
Time seemed to slow and warp. The dark power of the king speared toward us. Toward that clearing where I was neither seen nor heard, where I was nothing but a scrap of soul carried on a black wind. (acowar)
A scrap of soul on a black wind, she says? That sounds familiar.
But Mor scented nothing, saw nothing. The tendril of power she speared toward the woods revealed only the usual birds and small beasts. A hart drinking from a hole in an iced-over stream. Nothing, except— There, between a snarl of thorns. A patch of darkness. It did not move, did not seem to do anything but linger. And watch. Familiar and yet foreign. Something in her power whispered not to touch it, not to go near it. Even from this distance. Mor obeyed. But she still watched that darkness in the thorns, as if a shadow had fallen asleep amongst them. Not like Azriel’s shadows, twining and whispering. Something different. Something that stared back, watching her in turn. (acofas)
A patch of darkness between a snarl of thorns. Interesting. Familiar and yet foreign, like Silba’s voice. In Oorid, Nesta hears a mysterious voice and a disturbance in the thorns while she is on a mission to retrieve the mask. This voice attempts to warn her of the danger she faces, just like Elain warned Feyre in Hybern.
Run, a small voice whispered. Run and run, and do not look back. The voice was female, gentle. Wise and serene.
-
Run. Was that voice merely all that remained of her human instincts, or something more? She gazed at her reflection as if it would tell her.
-
Something rustled in the thorns of the island, and she snapped up her head, heart thundering as she scanned for that familiar male face and wings. But there was no sign of Cassian. And whatever was in that bramble…she should find another island to head for. (acosf)
The thorns remind Nesta of roses when she first arrives, and that patch of darkness on Mor's estate looked as though it had fallen asleep among the thorns...but it was still watchful, like the Eye of the Goddess. A dark bloom resting among the thorns, a scrap of soul on a black wind. This reminds me of Elain’s hidden movement and her mental gates, where the Cauldron made its deepest mark.
The gates to her mind … Solid iron, covered in vines of flowers—or it would have been. The blossoms were all sealed, sleeping buds tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns. (acowar)
Who would know about Nesta's mission in Oorid, and who would act from the shadows to help and protect her? There's a clear answer that takes us back to the the Cauldron's hunt for its stolen power.
Not again. I could not watch this play out again. Standing by, idle, while those I loved suffered. The Cauldron crept along with Nesta, a hound at her side.
A hound at her side, hmm? Now, where have I heard that recently?
...Az would have told him already if he'd wanted to share what had been hounding him enough to exercise at night, rather than in the morning with them. (acosf)
-
Elain was like a dog, loyal to whatever master kept her fed and in comfort. (acosf)
Feyre senses the Cauldron's surprise when Nesta covers Cassian with her body, just as Elain sensed its anger when power was taken from it. And when hope seems lost, Feyre begs for a divine intervention. And it comes not from the Cauldron, like she expected, but Elain.
Anything, I begged the Cauldron. Anything—
The king’s hand began to drop. And then halted. A choking noise came out of him. For a moment, I thought the Cauldron had answered my pleas. But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had. Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.”
After hunting her down in different forms, the Cauldron creeps along Nesta like a hound at the end. Elain then appears out of shadow in its stead and snarls like a hound, fast as the wind and loyal to the end. I’ve wondered before if Elain’s Sight functions like this living bond. The Suriel comments on seeing her doe eyes from across the world, so I imagine her form may be fluid like the divine trio when she uses her Sight. Her eyes even shift beneath her lids as she hunts like the Cauldron, the blue veins compared to water.
Her eyes shifted beneath her lids, the skin so delicate and colorless that the blue veins beneath were like small streams. “It moves …,” she whispered. “It moves through the world like … like the breath of the western wind.” (acowar)
And when Mor explains the difference between faeries and witches at Nesta's request, the focus moves to Elain as she casually observes the tent. The light dances in her mass of hair as it shifts. All before her appearance is glamoured to help and protect others.
Elain silently surveyed the tent, head tipping back. Her mass of heavy brown-gold hair shifted with the movement, the faelight dancing among the silken strands. […] Elain at last slid into the chair near Mor’s, her dawn-pink dress—finer than the ones she usually wore—crinkling beneath her. “Will—will many of these soldiers die?” (acowar)
This dawn ritual, if it is in fact something similar to what priestesses did in Sangravah, might be enough to keep her grounded in most cases. But I can also imagine a scenario where Elain travels in the embrace of that eternal, ancient beast too long or too deep, and loses sight of her body and her home like the forest witch in the Hind's tale. How else might she find her way back if that happens?
"But one day, a warrior arrived in the forest. He'd heard of the monster so vicious none could kill it and live. She set out to slaughter him, but when the warrior beheld her, he was not afraid. He stared at her, and she at him, and he wept because he didn't see a thing of nightmares, but a creature of beauty. He saw her, and he was not afraid of her, and he loved her. [...] His love transformed her back into a witch, melting away all that she'd become. They dwelled in peace in the forest for the rest of their immortal lives." (hosab)
The forest witch had a warrior who found her transformation, her monstrous form and power, beautiful. His love for who she became, not who she once was grounded her. So, who is Elain's warrior? I believe it’s going to be someone who won't flee from a patch of darkness, familiar and yet foreign. Someone who acknowledges the beauty in her mighty power, and hears what she cannot say, sees the heavy burden that she bears. Someone whose gentle voice she can follow in the void, singing her home across space and time. Someone who embraces Elain in all her forms, their hand an anchor in the vast tapestry of the universe.
This is a Maasverse post, and as such, there are spoilers for all Maas series. Proceed with caution.
There once was a dark cottage at the edge of the forest, and in that cottage rested a bed:
The room was large enough for a rickety dresser and the enormous ironwood bed we slept in. The sole remnant of our former wealth, it had been ordered as a wedding gift from my father to my mother. It was the bed in which we’d been born, and the bed in which my mother died. In all the painting I’d done to our house these past few years, I’d never touched it. (acotar)
A bed made of ironwood, as @offtorivendell pointed out a long time ago. This is the only mention of ironwood in the acotar series. And as you may remember, ironwood is connected to Ironteeth witches:
Leaning into the breeze was the closest she came to flying these days—save in rare dreams, when she was again in the clouds, her ironwood broom still functioning, not the scrap of useless wood it was now, chucked into the closet of her room at Blackbeak Keep. (hof)
-
A fierce, wild thrill pierced Manon’s chest, sharp as a knife. Following the Matron’s gaze, Manon looked to the horizon, where the mountains were still blanketed with winter. To fly again, to soar through the mountain passes, to hunt down prey the way they’d been born to …
They weren’t enchanted ironwood brooms. But wyverns would do just fine. (hof)
Unlike Crochan witches who use redwood for their brooms, Ironteeth witches make their brooms from ironwood. It is unclear what wood is used for brooms in Midgard. Queen Hypaxia's broom is quite intricate, carved with clouds and flowers and stars, and turns into a broach of the earth goddess, Cthona, when it is not being used.
It is no coincidence that the Archeron sisters were born in an ironwood bed; it’s the only possession they kept from their past. If that doesn’t scream witches, I don’t know what does.
In tog, we learn that Ironteeth witches carve their own brooms, as Manon recalls:
Manon could still feel how her own hands had ached during the long days she’d whittled down her first broom from the log of ironwood she’d found deep in Oakwald. The first two ventures had resulted in snapped shafts, and she’d resolved to carve her broom more carefully. Three tries, one for each face of the Goddess. (koa)
This instantly made me think of Papa Archeron and his skill with wood. He bought the ironwood bed for his wife, and in it she birthed three sisters, one for each face of the Goddess. @starswhogaze suggests that he might even possess the gift of Sight, his eyes lost to memory, clouded. Is he a rare-born witch prince (of merchants), and did he See something in the future that compelled him to find the missing queen, Vassa, and gather an army? Or was he influenced by Koschei on the wind, as @offtorivendell has discussed before?
Ironteeth witches and their ironwood brooms are linked to the wind:
She’d been thirteen, mere weeks past her first bleeding, which had brought about the zipping current of power that called to the wind, that flowed through the brooms and carried them into the skies. Each stroke of the chisel, each pound of the hammer that transformed the block of near-impenetrable material, had transferred that power into the emerging broom itself. (koa)
Not only does this make me think of Papa Archeron and his chisel, spreading love and beauty with his carvings, but it also reminds me of Nesta’s trove of death-swords. She hammers raw magic into the swords like more elemental fae once did.
I also can’t help but think about Elain imbuing objects or the land itself with power. Is that what her carved rose might foreshadow? Is it made of ironwood? Nesta describes the rose as a dark sort of wood with solid weight. Ironwood is known for being strong and dense, making it more difficult to carve. (And I just love the juxtaposition of something so delicate being so strong and solid, near-impenetrable.)
Nesta takes the dark rose from the cottage mantel and places it next to a figurine of the Mother in the House of Wind; the Mother is one of the faces of the Goddess that witches in Midgard and Erilea worship. Blooms are an important symbol for witches in Erilea, too:
A few bore flowers, but many brought small stones to lay on the site. Those who had neither laid down whatever personal effects they could offer. Until the blast site was covered, as if a garden had grown from a field of blood.
[…]
“Be the bridge, be the light. When iron melts, when flowers spring from fields of blood—let the land be witness, and return home.” (koa)
@offtorivendell pointed out that this imagery is similar to the way Elain is described in the witch accusation. She's a rose bloom among soldiers in a mud field, and at the end of the original series, she expresses a desire to create gardens after so much bloodshed and death.
Could Elain’s ironwood rose mean we'll see her travel on the wind? Like Illyrians, Ironteeth witches fly and have a deep connection with the wind. Their power calls to the wind, and as we see with Manon, the wind sings to them in return:
Hurry northward, the wind sang, day and night. Hurry, Blackbeak. (koa)
When Elain meets the Illyrians, the very first question out of her mouth is about their ability to fly, and we learn they hear the song of the wind from birth like Ironteeth witches.
Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, “Can you truly fly?”
He set down his fork, blinking. I might have even called him self-conscious. He said, “Yes. Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of the wind.”
“That’s very beautiful,” she said. “Is it not—frightening, though? To fly so high?”
“It is sometimes,” Azriel said. Cassian tore his relentless attention from Nesta long enough to nod his agreement. “If you are caught in a storm, if the current drops away. But we are trained so thoroughly that the fear is gone before we’re out of swaddling.” (acomaf)
We see the frightening scenario Azriel describes above play out when he rescues Elain and Briar, the former notably silent when they briefly lose the current. It’s as if she was Made to travel on the wind.
Azriel turned, the girl moaning in terror as he lost a few feet to the sky—before he leveled out and soared beside me. (acowar)
There are so many possibilities for how the song of the wind might connect to Elain’s powers. She might transform into a winged predator, as Blodeuwedd does, and/or she might move through the world like the Cauldron, a force that travels unseen and constantly shifts form. Her power is repeatedly paralleled with Azriel’s abilities, and we already know that he learned the language of shadow and wind and stone when he was trapped in darkness. Elain’s sense of sound is also heightened after she is Made in the dark depths of the Cauldron:
“When I sleep,” she murmured, “I can hear your heart beating through the stone.”
She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. “Can you hear mine?”
He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.” (acowar)
[…]
“There is a garden—at my other house,” I said. “I’d like for you to come tend it, if you’re willing.” Elain only turned toward the sunny windows again, the light dancing in her hair. “Will I hear the earthworms writhing through the soil? Or the stretching of roots? Will the bird of fire come to sit in the trees and watch me?” (acowar)
She can hear, see, and communicate with things that others cannot. It would not be a surprise if this extended to the wind, among many other things as @silverlinedeyes suggests in her Singer post.
“Don’t,” Elain said flatly, starting once more into a walk, veils of steam drifting past her shoulders from the roasted rosemary potatoes in her hands, as if they were Azriel’s shadows. “She won’t listen.” (acofas)
Another word for steam is mist and mist can create a murky environment. Both oracles and mystics use murky environments, such as smoke-filled rooms or cloudy tubs of liquid, to access their gifts and respond to specific questions. I believe this environment is meant to mimic the murky waters of the Cauldron. The oracle in Midgard listens to answers in the smoke, much like Elain listens to a voice in her murky realm. When asked a question she cannot answer, she says it is all mist and shadow.
Mor leaned forward. “Do you know why the other queens cursed her—sold her to him?”
Elain studied the table. “No. No—that is all mist and shadow.” (acowar)
Mist and shadow. Like @offtorivendell, I believe Elain will need to use the language of shadow and wind and stone, or its counterpoint, for travel through the void as well as clear visions, which brings me back to witches. Ironteeth witches blink clear eyelids into place for protection, like owls. These eyelids allow them to see clearly in murky conditions while they fly.
The smoke of countless forges stung Manon’s eyes enough that she blinked her clear eyelid into place upon landing in the heart of the war camp to the sound of pounding hammers and crackling flames. (qos)
In the Blodeuwedd post, I theorized that Elain blinks like an owl when she uses her gift of clairvoyance. Clairvoyance means clear sight or vision. Like an Ironteeth witch, she might blink to to see clearly, or focus her vision, in her murky realm. Does she possess an inner light, like owls of legend? Or can she hunt on sound alone, like an owl who has adapted to her dark environment? Move like a pale wraith through the darkness of the Void?
Her skin was so pale it looked like fresh snow in the harsh light. I realized then that the color of death, of sorrow, was white. The lack of color. Of vibrancy. I left Cassian and Rhys by the door. Nesta’s rage was better than this … shell. This void. My breath caught as I edged around her chair. Beheld the city view she stared so blankly at. Then beheld the hollowed-out cheeks, the bloodless lips, the brown eyes that had once been rich and warm, and now seemed utterly dull. Like grave dirt.
[…]
Perhaps that was why she now kept all the curtains open. To fill the void that existed where all of that light had once been. And now nothing remained. (acowar)
Void is darkness that devours all light. A Night Court weaver wove dark fabric in her grief and called it Void. Dark fabric is also linked to movement earlier on in the series, when Feyre learns to winnow:
“How does that … vanishing work?” I said softly. I’d seen only a few High Fae do it—and no one had ever explained.
Rhys didn’t look at me, but he said, “Winnowing? Think of it as … two different points on a piece of cloth. One point is your current place in the world. The other one across the cloth is where you want to go. Winnowing … it’s like folding that cloth so the two spots align. The magic does the folding—and all we do is take a step to get from one place to another. Sometimes it’s a long step, and you can feel the dark fabric of the world as you pass through it. A shorter step, let’s say from one end of the room to the other, would barely register. It’s a rare gift, and a helpful one. Though only the stronger Fae can do it. The more powerful you are, the farther you can jump between places in one go.” (acomaf)
Void seems to be the dark fabric of the world that characters weave through as they winnow.
Darkness gobbled us up, and it was instinct to grab him as the world vanished from beneath my feet. Winnowing indeed. Wind tore at me, and his arm was a warm, heavy weight across my back while we tumbled through realms, Rhys snickering at my terror. (acomaf)
And this tumbling through realms in darkness sounds like the description of Wyrdgates, black areas where life passes between worlds, that Baba Yellowlegs gives to Aelin.
“There are gates—black areas in the Wyrd that allow for life to pass between the worlds. There are Wyrdgates that lead to Erilea. All sorts of beings have come through them over the eons. Benign things, but also the dead and foul things that creep in when the gods are looking elsewhere.” (com)
@silverlinedeyes theorized that Elain may use the Void to travel unseen. In the space between, I talk about the opposing forces of Azriel and Elain and the balance, or harmony, in the place where they meet. Could Elain become a force of light and wind and color that penetrates the deepest darkness?
Azriel arrived first, no shadows to be seen, my sister a pale, golden mass in his arms. He, too, wore his Illyrian armor, Elain's golden-brown hair snagging in some of the black scales across his chest and shoulders. (acowar)
-
But sunlight on gold caught his eye—and Elain slowly turned from her vigil at the window. (acowar)
-
Even in the middle of winter, she was a bloom of color and sunshine. (acofas)
-
From the edge of my vision, purple and gold flashed—Elain. (acofas)
-
Elain stood at the wall of windows, clad in a lilac gown whose close-fitting bodice showed how well her sister had filled out since those initial days in the Night Court. Gone were the sharp angles, replaced by softness and elegant curves. [...] Her sister turned toward her, glowing with health.
Elain's smile was as bright as the setting sun beyond the windows. (acosf)
-
The River House had finally fallen quiet after the raucous Winter Solstice party, the Faelights dimming to cast little pools of gold amid the deep shadow of the longest night of the year. [...] The Faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. (Azriel's bonus chapter)
Did she track Hybern and her family through her Sight, and then—like a pale wraith on the wind—weave through the dark fabric of the world to strike true? Was she Hope shining through the Void, as acofas may have hinted?
Before she appears out of shadow to rescue Nesta and Cassian, she comments on the movement of one of my favorite creatures:
Her eyes shifted beneath her lids, the skin so delicate and colorless that the blue veins beneath were like small streams. “It moves …,” she whispered. “It moves through the world like … like the breath of the western wind.” (acowar)
Is this simply a poetic turn of phrase she uses for the Suriel’s movements, or does Elain understand the wind better than we realize? Is she familiar with the western wind specifically? Merrill, who is referred to as a witch (and reminds me of Manon), informs Nesta in acosf that she is descended from Rabbath, Lord of the Western Wind. Like witches, she too seems to have a special connection to the wind and presides over the spell-like ritual of the dusk services. Where is the Lord of the Western Wind from? Could it involve Dusk…or the Witch Kingdom in another world? All signs point to witches, as @psychologynerd reminded me of this:
Sometimes, Manon dreamed that she was in that room in the Omega, her half sister’s blood on her hands and in her mouth. Sometimes, she stood beside her grandmother, a witch fully grown and not the witchling she’d been at the time, and helped the Matron carve up a handsome, bearded man who begged for her life—his offspring’s life. Sometimes, she flew over a lush green land, the song of a western wind singing her home. (eos)
It's even more interesting that Elain specifically names the breath of the western wind, as though she has heard its call too. Though this list below is not exhaustive, the number of characters and creatures in the acotar series who are linked to the wind has grown immensely:
Suriel moving like a shadow on the wind and the western wind;
Illyrians hearing the song of the wind;
Azriel learning the language of the wind;
Mor's blood calling her to go on the wind;
Koschei influencing others on the wind;
Beron getting wind of Briallyn’s plans;
Queens scattering to the winds (like witches in tog);
Autumn’s smokehounds moving as fast as the wind to sniff out any prey; and
Merrill hearing the wind through stone, a descendant of Lord of the Western Wind.
And because I was curious (and love to come back to connections between the Suriel and Elain), I reviewed how the Suriel traveled.
Like a shadow on the wind, the Suriel was off, a blast of dark that set the four naga staggering back. (acowar)
-
I glanced toward the river, as if I could see all the way to the cave, to where Rhysand slept. When I looked back at the Suriel, it was gone. (acomaf)
-
I drew my Illyrian blade, the metal singing in the thick air. But an ancient, rasping voice asked behind me, “Have you come to kill me, or to beg for my help once again, Feyre Archeron?”
I turned, but did not sheath my blade across my back.
The Suriel was standing a few feet away, clad not in the cloak I had given it months ago, but a different one—heavier and darker, the fabric already torn and shredded. As if the wind it traveled on had ripped through it with invisible talons. (acowar)
The Suriel moves like a shadow on the wind, appearing and vanishing silently and suddenly, as Elain does now:
Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.” (acowar)
“Feyre?” Elain was again at my side. I hadn’t heard her steps. Hadn’t heard any sound for moments. (acofas)
Elain spoke from the doorway, having appeared so silently that they all twisted toward her, “Using me.” (acosf)
“You came,” Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends. (acosf)
Elain seems to move like the breath of the western wind too, and I have a feeling that if we could hear it as she might, it would sound like a chant.
Next: The sense chanted, or Elain's connections to witchy rituals.
This is a Maasverse post, and as such, there are spoilers for all Maas series. Proceed with caution.
“The point is that this is all gardening. The garden runs through our lives like a river through a field, like air in our lungs. The garden does not end in space any more than it does in time. The flowers grow as much in our minds as in the soil. There are very few nights when I do not lie in the dark, everyone else sleeping inside this dark, creaking, bony house, and go through the garden, seeing it with the clarity of a dreamer, taking it to pieces and putting it together again, mending everything in my head.” (Montagu Don, My Roots: A Decade in the Garden)
Like the threads of an intricate tapestry, Elain weaves a variety of plants together in her gardens. She creates living art, even at the worst of times:
I dragged a hand over my face before going to Elain and touching her too-bony shoulder. “Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” (acowar)
Feyre casually mentions that Elain is planting herbs in the town house garden after she drops some unsettling information on Cassian (which, as an aside, is one of my favorite scenes; I love it when Elain, the gentle gardener, unnerves 500-year-old fae). @offtorivendell posted a headcanon that Elain has a garden full of useful plants, which makes sense for a practical forest witch, and this quote suggests she is on the right track. We don’t hear about her herbs specifically again, but we do see glimpses of her work on the town house garden where she started planting them:
…peering out the kitchen window at the garden beyond…Elain had already readied the garden for winter, veiling the more delicate bushes and beds with burlap. (acofas)
-
Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. (acofas)
Herbs are used by witches and healers in the Maasverse for a variety of purposes, such as flavoring cuisine, enhancing divination, and healing the body. All things many of us naturally associate with Elain.
Cuisine
Manon gives us a glimpse of Crochan witches going about their domestic tasks, including cooking with dried herbs at their cauldrons:
At least two dozen other witches tended to the several fire pits scattered amongst the white tents, all of them halting their various work as Manon passed. She’d never seen Crochans going about their domestic tasks, but here they were: some tending to fires, some hauling buckets of water, some monitoring heavy cauldrons of what smelled like mountain-goat stew seasoned with dried herbs. (koa)
This image makes me think of other witches (and suspected witches) who have engaged in similar domestic tasks, such as Hypaxia offering tea to Ruhn in the medwitch clinic, or Elain carrying herbed potatoes that she helped the twins prepare near the winter solstice. In our world, traditional witchcraft is founded on a deep bond with the land; many of the holidays on the Wheel of the Year align with the agricultural year. It is no surprise then that witches in the Maasverse are also deeply connected to the bounty of the land. And even though it does not involve witches exclusively, the Great Rite in Prythian honors this bond and is performed to ensure balance between the the land and those who benefit from it. It’s very witchy.
This also helps put into perspective the gravity of Queen Rhiannon's curse on the land:
But the last Crochan queen had cast a spell to ensure that as long as Ironteeth banners flew, no bit of soil would yield life to them. (com)
“Rhiannon swore on her last breath that we would win the war, but not the land. That for what we had done, we would inherit the land only to see it wilt and die in our hands. Our beasts would shrivel and keel over dead; our witchlings would be stillborn, poisoned by the streams and rivers. Fish would rot in lakes before we could catch them. Rabbits and deer would flee across the mountains. And the once-verdant Witch Kingdom would become a wasteland. […] Every few decades, they would send groups to try to work the land, to see if the curse still held. Those groups never returned. We have been wanderers for five hundred years—the wound made worse by the fact that humans eventually took it for themselves. And the land responded to them.” (eos)
Manon’s half-sister, who is named for the last Crochan queen, has earthy eyes that are described exactly like Thesan’s, which are rich and warm like Elain’s (who I have long associated with healing light and Dawn).
The Crochan witch, her eyes the solid color of freshly tilled earth, looked up at Manon. How those eyes were so bright despite the horrors written on her body, how she didn’t collapse right there or start begging, Manon didn’t know. (hof)
Every Crochan witch also has an hearth that travels with them, and they can use it to communicate when they are scattered across the world:
Glennis jerked her chin toward the tent flaps, to the fire pit beyond. “Every Crochan family has a hearth that moves with them to each camp or home we make; the fires never extinguish. The flame in my hearth dates back to the Crochan city itself, when Brannon Galathynius gave Rhiannon a spark of eternally burning fire. My mother carried it with her in a glass globe, hidden in her cloak, when she smuggled out your ancestor, and it has continued to burn at every royal Crochan hearth since then.”
“What about when magic disappeared for ten years?”
“Our seers had a vision that it would vanish, and the flame would die. So we ignited several ordinary fires from that magic flame, and kept them burning. When magic disappeared, the flame indeed winked out. And when magic returned this spring, the flame again kindled, right in the hearth where we had last seen it.” Her great-grandmother turned toward her. “When a Crochan Queen summons her people to war, a flame is taken from the royal hearth, and passed to each hearth, one camp and village to the other. The arrival of the flame is a summons that only a true Crochan Queen may make.” (koa)
The Crochans carry hearths—the heart of family and domestic life—with them as they travel, which reminded me of Elain’s rose:
It was a fire. Not her father’s neck. Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d place on the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer.
Another log cracked, and Nesta flinched. But she remained sitting there. Staring at that carved rose. (acosf)
Nesta found Elain’s dark rose on the mantel in their old cottage, and then felt the need to place it on a mantel in the House of Wind, just above the hearth and next to a figurine of a primal goddess, likely the Mother. It moves from mantel to mantel and hearth to hearth until she places it on her father’s gravestone in the final scene of her book. This rose may be yet another hint of Elain's connection to witches, divinity, and roses, as well as the gift of healing, which I’ll get to later. Roses are associated with love and death (among many other things), and have a rich history in folklore; they are a common ingredient used in herbal magic. I could see Elain possessing her own portable hearth to accompany dried herbs from her town house garden as she sets out on various adventures. That way, no matter how far she travels, she'll always have her home with her like a lovely Crochan witch.
Divination
Some herbs are used to amplify divination or dream magic. As @offtorivendell mentioned in her post on Elain’s Sight, seers in Erilea use bloodbane (which, as a drug, may contain herbs) to see spirits from other realms, and mystics use bloodsalt to focus their search across worlds. In Midgard, the Oracle's Temple is full of incense and the sphinx breathes in the fumes that are smoldering in her chamber.
...the domed onyx building of the Oracle's Temple veiled in the mists that had rolled in over the river.
Even at midday, the Oracle's Park was near-empty, save for the hunched, slumbering forms of the desperate Vanir and humans who wandered the paths and gardens, waiting for their turn to enter the incense-filled hallways. (hoeab)
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She blinked, wings rustling as if in surprise, but settled herself. Breathed in the fumes rising from the hole. Minutes passed, and Hunt’s head began to throb with the various scents—especially the reeking sulfur.
Smoke swirled, masking the sphinx from sight even though she sat only ten feet away. [...] A rasping voice slithered out of the smoke. “To open the doorway between worlds.” A chill seized Hunt. (hoeab)
@offtorivendell theorized that, like others gifted with Sight, Elain could use substances to amplify her powers if needed. It's possible she might be able to use herbs from her garden to pierce the veil and see clearly. She even smells like jasmine, a plant that—among many other things—induces prophetic dreams.
Healing
What can cure can also kill. (Rebecca Beyer, Wild Witchcraft)
In Midgard, we're told witches are seers, warriors, potion-makers, and healers. Healers, also known as medwitches, are the most visible and they have their own herb gardens. Their healing magic is even more powerful than the fae.
They were a strange, unique group, the witches. Though they looked like humans, their considerable magic and long lives marked them as Vanir, their power mostly passed through the female line. All of them deemed civitas. The power was inherited, from some ancient source that the witches claimed was a three-faced goddess, but witches did pop up in non-magical families every now and then. Their gifts were varied, from seers to warriors to potion-makers, but healers were the most visible in Crescent City. Their schooling was thorough and long enough that the young witch before him was unusual. She had to be skilled to be already working in a clinic when she couldn’t have been a day over thirty.
[…]
She gestured to the hall behind her, where sunlight leaked in through a glass door at its other end. “We have a courtyard garden. The day is fine enough that you could wait out there.”
[…]
Ruhn followed her down the hall, trying not to breathe in her eucalyptus-and-lavender scent too deeply.
Don’t be a fucking creep.
The sunlight tangled in her thick night-dark hair as she reached the courtyard door and shouldered it open, revealing a slate-covered patio surrounded by terraced herb gardens. The day was indeed lovely, the river breeze making the plants rustle and sway, spreading their soothing fragrances. (hoeab)
We now know this graceful healer is the Witch Queen, Hypaxia. Elain seems to share parallels with Hypaxia and her half-sister, the Hind (and her story about the forest witch). Hypaxia smells like plants that are used for healing and shows Ruhn out to their courtyard herb garden. Like the witches, Elain is gifted magic from an ancient source (the Cauldron, which is also part of a magical trio: Mother, Cauldron, Fate) and plants her own herbs in a courtyard garden. She smells of jasmine and honey, which have medicinal properties: one is used to improve sleep and the other is used to treat burns.
The wise and peaceful medwitches in Midgard remind me of Crochan witches in Erilea, who were scattered to the winds and used healing to hide their heritage:
They were still out there, the self-righteous, insufferable Crochans, hiding as healers and wise-women. (hof)
We also witness extensive healing magic from humans blessed by Silba in Antica, and as I mentioned in forbidden secrets, they seem to share some pointed parallels with Elain as well.
It was broad, more of a keep than anything, but still rounded. Buildings flanked its sides, connected on lower levels. All enclosed by towering white walls, the iron gates—fashioned to look like an owl spreading its wings—thrown wide to reveal lavender bushes and flower beds lining the sand-colored gravel walkways. Not flower beds. Herb beds. (tod)
We learn that Maeve surrounded herself with healers because of the threat they pose to the Valg, and in the scene below, a Valg princess calls the healers Maeve's secret army:
“Why do you think Maeve has hoarded her healers, never allowing them to leave her patrolled borders? She knew we would return. She wanted to be ready—to protect herself. Her prized favorites, those Doranelle healers. Her secret army.” Duva hummed, motioning with the dagger to the necropolis. “How clever those Fae were, who escaped her clutches after the last war. They ran all the way here—the healers who knew their queen would keep them penned up like animals. And then they bred the magic into the land, into its people. Encouraged the right powers to rise up, to ensure this land would always be strong, defended. And then they vanished, taking their treasures and histories beneath the earth. Ensuring they were forgotten below, while their little garden was planted above.” (tod)
The fae healers bred magic into the land, into its people…then they vanished beneath the earth…forgotten…while their little garden was planted above. THEIR LITTLE GARDEN?! I've wondered elsewhere if Elain might heal the land, but what if, like Doranelle healers, Elain is weaving magic into the ground because of something she has Seen? What if she is endlessly toiling in her little gardens not just to restore life, but to cultivate the right magic to rise up and bloom, in defense of her family and the realm?
@offtorivendell has theorized that Elain might weaponize plants, like Ents, which would be so much fun to read. I would love to see her use (or sing to) living things around her, as @silverlinedeyes theorized, to uncover secrets and protect others (like a forest witch would). There are so many possibilities for how gardening will come into play in her story. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to see her little gardens become secret weapons that are critical for the future. At the very least, we know that it has a symbolic purpose, as the quote I started this post with suggests: it is the lens through which we see Elain's evolution and role. Feyre starts the series believing this about her sister:
It wasn’t meanness that kept her from offering to help; it simply never occurred to her that she might be capable of getting her hands dirty. (acotar)
Then she sees her sister come alive in her garden, where she is able to exert control and create beautiful art with blooms. Her joy is infectious.
The little garden beneath the window was hers: every bloom and shrub had been picked and planted by her hand; she would allow no one else to care for it. Even the weeding and watering she did on her own. (acotar)
And we also see the moment when Feyre’s perspective shifts, and she begins to wonder if Elain prefers to get her hands dirty; if it's proof of her work.
“Enchanted gloves,” she read from the card. “That won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” She set aside the box without looking at it for longer than a moment. And I wondered if she preferred to have torn and sweaty hands, if the dirt and cuts were proof of her labor. Her joy. (acofas)
We’re then reminded of this evolution in the Feysand bonus chapter:
I glowered at Rhys. “You think Elain’s boring?”
“I think she’s kind, and I’ll take kindness over nastiness any day. But I also think we haven’t yet seen all she has to offer.” A corner of his mouth tugged upward. “Don’t forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one’s hands dirty along the way.”
“And torn up by thorns,” I mused, recalling a morning this past summer when Elain had come into the house, her right palm bleeding from several gashes thanks to a stubborn rosebush that had pierced her gloves. The thorns had broken off in her skin, leaving sharp splinters that I’d had to pull free. (feysand bonus)
It’s interesting that Feysand discuss Elain’s hands in their bonus chapter: gardeners often get their hands dirty for a pretty result (living art). And then, in Azriel's bonus, he thinks about how Elain couldn't possibly know how his hands have been sullied far beyond their scars (by his deadly art). Sully is a synonym for soil, which means to make dirty. Soil is often used to describe the upper layer of the earth where plants grow, bringing us full circle.
Sarah could run with this hand imagery in a few different ways, but it reminds me of someone else in another world who also bloodies their hand on a rosebush…
Dorian held up his bloodied hand. “Thornbush.” Rosebush made his cuts seem that much more pathetic.
“The hand is—very complex,” she murmured at last, studying the cuts. “I just wanted to make sure that nothing was damaged and that there weren’t any thorns lodged in there.” She swiftly added, “Your Highness.” (com)
Why do I keep coming back to Dorian? Although he is heavily involved with the witches in tog, he is not a witch. So what is he doing here? It will lead back to healers and witches so stay with me. Dorian evolves over the series and becomes a force to be reckoned with; his raw magic allows him to learn other types of magic, including how to shift and wield magical hands.
His hands trembled—and not just with fear. No, there was some force still running through him, begging him to unleash it again, to open himself up … Dorian crammed the last book back onto the shelf and took off at a run. He could tell no one. Trust no one. (com)
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Chaol stared at Dorian in mute horror as his friend’s eyes glowed a deep, raging blue, and the prince snarled at the king, “Don’t you touch him.” The ice spread across the room, up the legs of the shocked guards, freezing over Sorscha’s blood, and Dorian got to his feet. He raised both hands, and light shimmered along his fingers, a cold breeze whipping through his hair. (com)
Anyone else think Dorian’s snarl sounds a lot like Elain’s snarled don’t touch my sister? Yeah, me too. In Seed of power, I wondered if Elain possessed raw magic like Dorian, and before I’m accused of giving her excessive powers, I think this might be the case for all three witchy sisters. They are blessed by fate and gifted with powers to match Rhysand whose power is described as raw. When Rhysand uses Feyre as a conduit in acowar, her magic comes out as raw, brutal power to weld the Cauldron back together. It reminds me of this:
"Once, the High Fae were more elemental, more given to reading the stars and crafting masterpieces of art and jewelry and weaponry. Their gifts were rawer, more connected to nature, and they could imbue objects with that power." (acosf)
Feyre welded the Cauldron and Nesta hammered swords, creating her own trove of nightmares. Elain will likely craft something with her magic as well, and it may be the other side of the coin to Nesta's nightmares: a trove of dreams. It could be witch mirrors hidden in ordinary jewelry, or even herbs with the power to heal and kill, if she can weaponize plants.
Now back to Dorian and the reason I mentioned him in the first place. He uses phantom hands, as @ladynightcourt3 has pointed out before:
Then those claws were pinned in the wood beneath phantom hands as Dorian sauntered over, face so unyieldingly unmoved. The Bloodhound thrashed, those claws trying to wrench free— The creature screamed as those invisible hands crunched down on bone. Then through it. […] It was not flame or wind that snapped the Bloodhound’s neck. But invisible hands. (eos)
Interesting. This reminds me of another phantom hand, albeit a bit gentler:
And as it faded, dark ink splashed upon Nesta’s back, visible through her half-shredded shirt, as if it were a wave crashing upon the shore. A bargain. With the Cauldron itself. Yet Cassian could have sworn a luminescent, gentle hand prevented the light from leaving her body altogether. (acosf)
This gentle, glowing hand intervenes on Nesta’s behalf, and it seems to be connected to the wise, soft voice.
A soft, familiar voice whispered the words. As they had been whispered to her long ago. As it had warned her in Oorid’s darkness. A lovely, kind female voice, sage and warm, which had been waiting for her all this time. (acosf)
This gentle hand and voice also seem like the Other Yrene bargains with in an important healing. The Other is most likely Silba, the goddess of healers and bringer of peace and gentle deaths, in Erilea. The one who is associated with owls and purple and healing magic.
A woman’s voice that was both familiar and foreign. A voice that was both Hafiza’s and … another. Someone who was not human, never had been. Speaking through Hafiza herself, their voices blending into the blackness.
[…]
A daughter of Fenharrow will pay the debt of a son of Adarlan?
Yes.
She could have sworn a gentle, warm hand brushed her face.
[…]
The Other said, You offer this of your own free will?
Yes. With my entire heart.
It had been his from the start, anyway. Those loving, phantom hands brushed her cheek again and faded away.
[…]
The Other said, I chose well. You shall pay the debt, Yrene Towers. And I hope you shall see it for what it truly is.
Yrene tried to speak. But light flared, soft and soothing. (tod)
The Other is not named, but it says it chose well and we know that Yrene was blessed with powers by Silba, so it seems likely that this is Silba’s voice. Interestingly, one of the healers also mentions Death:
Before Yrene could answer, Chaol demanded, “What cost?”
A stillness crept over them, and even Yrene looked to Hafiza as the woman extracted herself from Eretia’s care. The Healer on High said quietly, “The damage was too great. Even with all of us…Death held you by the hand.” (tod)
This scene shares so many parallels with the Feysand rescue; it is a powerful healing with a high cost. We learn through Yrene that healers can sense when death is near, which is one of their less savory abilities. Death lurks near Feyre before Nesta uses the Trove, and that is when an otherworldly being looks out from her eyes. The Feysand healing would have taken place after the gods were banished from Erilea, and we did not actually witness their deaths. Is it possible the Mother is connected to Silba?
There is also a place beneath the Torre called Silba’s Womb where healers soak in natural spring waters in the form of dozens of tubs. The darkness Yrene senses in this underground cavern is connected to creation, rest and unformed thought, reminding me of Elain’s iron mental gates that are covered with sleeping buds, leaves, and thorns. This sleeping garden could be a hint for a dormant power like Dorian’s; when his sleeping power is awoken, it is described as something ancient and slumbering deep inside of him, and it opens an eye.
And the darkness above her … it was different from what she had spied in Lord Westfall’s body. The opposite of that blackness. The darkness above her was that of creation, of rest, of unformed thought. Yrene stared into it, into the womb of Silba herself. And could have sworn she felt something staring back. Listening, while she thought through all Lord Westfall had told her. (tod)
Silba’s dark womb of creation is also eerily similar to the dark womb that Nesta senses in the depths of the library:
There was night, and there was the darkness of extinguishing a candle, and then there was this. Not only the true absence of light, but … a womb. The womb from which all life had come and would return, neither good nor evil, only dark, dark, dark. […] Her name drifted to her as if rising from the depths of some black ocean. […] The darkness pulsed, beckoning. (acosf)
The healing magic we see in tog reminds me quite a bit of the Cauldron, which is that dark womb Nesta mentioned. Healing light not only weaves things together, but devours darkness:
More of the world faded away.
I am not afraid of you, Yrene said into the dark. And you have nowhere to run.
Duva thrashed, trying to unseat Yrene's grip. Yrene pressed down harder on her chest.
Time slowed and bent. She was dimly aware of the ache in her knees, the cramp in her back. Dimly aware of Sartaq and Kashin refusing to offer their position to someone else.
Still Irene sent her magic flowing into Diva. Filling her with that devouring light.
[...]
"Utterly pathetic," Yrene repeated, her magic rallying behind her in a mighty, cresting white wave. "For a prince to prey on a helpless woman."
The demon scrambled back against the wave, clawing at the dark as if it would tunnel through Duva.
Yrene pushed forward. Let her wave fall.
Yrene's tidal wave of light devours the dark of the Valg like the thread of Hope piercing the Void. The language is similar to the wave imagery of the Cauldron and Elain’s white void when she is overcome by despair and strange new powers. If her void is not the typical dark nothingness but white, could her healing power be opalescent light that devours the darkness? As bright as the sunstone palace of Dawn that holds the light of a thousand suns, piercing the shadows of night each morning?
If Silba and the Mother are connected (one and the same, or part of the same consciousness of formless, higher beings), could Elain—a seer with theoretical raw magic that can heal and destroy and everything in between—act as their watchful guardian, an otherworldly bird of prey?
Even though it perched atop a gnarled branch of iron that flowed across the door itself, wings flared wide as it prepared to leap into the skies, it seemed … alert. Aware of all who passed that door, who perhaps gazed too long in the direction of the workshop. (tod)
Perhaps time and space also work differently for her, as they do for the Ancients.
Next: The Ancients, or Elain’s connection to ancient witches.
This is a Maasverse post, and as such, there are spoilers for all Maas series. Proceed with caution.
In the tog series, we learn the art of shifting from Cyrene, a spider who weaves silk as colorful as the thread of Hope and devours dreams and life and joy. Manon calls Cyrene sister, as both share demon (Valg) blood, and the spider confirms that they are two faces of the same dark coin; sisters in spirit, if not in flesh (hof). Manon steals the silk for her wyvern and Cryene later tracks her down through scent alone in the form of a Crochan witch, which is how she finds herself at the mercy of Dorian’s curiosity.
She’d returned to her human form, her dark hair tangled, bundled in a Crochan cloak. As if one of them had taken pity on her. Not realizing the hunger in Cyrene’s eyes wasn’t for the goat stew.
Dorian kept his stance relaxed, even as he asked again, “Where does the shifting come from inside you?”
Cyrene angled her head as if listening to something. “It was strange, mortal king, to find that I had a new place within me with the return of magic. To find that something new had taken root.” Her small hand drifted to her middle, just above her navel. “A little seed of power. I will the shift, think of what I wish to be, and the change starts within here first. Always, the heat comes from here.” The spider settled her stare on him. “If you wish to be something, king-with-no-crown, then be it. That is the secret to the shifting. Be what you wish.” (koa)
-
Dorian put a hand on his stomach, despite the layers of clothes and cloak. Only toned muscle greeted him. “Is that what you do to summon the change: first think of what you want to become?”
“With limits. I need a clear image within my mind, or else it will not work at all.”
“So you cannot change into something you have not seen.”
“I can invent certain traits—eye color, build, hair—but not the creature itself.” A hideous smile bloomed on her mouth. “Use that lovely magic of yours. Change your pretty eyes,” the spider dared. “Change their color.” (koa)
-
Cyrene chuckled. “Do not think of the eye color so much as demand it.”
“How did you learn this without instruction?”
“The power is in me now,” the spider said simply. “I listened to it.” (koa)
This conversation between Cyrene and Dorian reminded me of the line of inquiry Elain pursues with Amren in acofas.
Mor opened her mouth, laughter dancing on her face, but Elain asked, “Could you have done it? Decided to take a male form?”
The question cut through the laughter, an arrow fired between us.
Amren studied my sister, Elain’s cheeks red from our unfiltered talk at the table. “Yes,” she said simply. “Before, in my other form, I was neither. I simply was.”
“Then why did you pick this body?” Elain asked, the faelight of the chandelier catching in the ripples of her golden-brown braid.
“I was more drawn to the female form,” Amren answered simply. “I thought it was more symmetrical. It pleased me.”
[...]
And Elain asked, “And once you were in this body, you couldn’t change?”
Amren’s eyes narrowed slightly. I straightened, glancing between them. Unusual, yes, for Elain to be so vocal, but she’d been improving. Most days she was lucid—perhaps quiet and melancholy, but aware.
Elain, to my surprise, held Amren’s gaze.
Amren said after a moment, “Are you asking out of curiosity for my past, or your own future?”
The question left me too stunned to even reprimand Amren. The others, too.
Elain’s brow furrowed before I could leap in. “What do you mean?”
“There’s no going back to being human, girl,” Amren said, perhaps a tad gently. (acofas)
There’s no going back to being human unless Elain possesses the power to walk in another’s skin, to shape-shift, like Cyrene. Two key parts of Cyrene’s explanation stood out to me–she relies on her sight as inspiration for shifting and she learned the power that she received in a trade by listening to it. Curiously, those two senses are key parts of Elain’s powers:
Elain cocked her head, as if listening to some inner voice. “Yes.”
Lucien just stared and stared at my sister, as if he’d never seen her before. (acowar)
-
Elain had been told—by Amren. She now sat at the table, more straight-backed and clear-eyed than I’d seen her. Had she beheld this, in whatever wanderings that new, inner sight granted her? Had the Cauldron whispered of it while we’d been away? I hadn’t the heart to ask her. (acowar)
Could Elain have learned how to wield her powers from the Cauldron’s whisperings? She is as curious as Dorian and often asks questions, learning without formal training. Could she even possess raw magic, the ability to shape her own magic and destiny? The Cauldron did give her such powers:
The Cauldron seemed to realize what she’d done, too, as his head thumped onto the mossy ground. That Elain … Elain had defended this thief. Elain, who it had gifted with such powers, found her so lovely it had wanted to give her something… It would not harm Elain, even in its hunt to reclaim what had been taken. (acowar)
And rather than referring to these powers as “Sight,” Amren is also strangely vague about the nature and extent of Elain’s powers.
“And do not forget that Nesta herself—and Elain, with whatever powers she has—is here. Feyre is here. All three sisters blessed by fate and gifted with powers to match your own.” (acosf)
If Nesta and Amren shared otherworldly eyes, might Elain and Amren share otherworldly forms as their parallel dinner conversation suggests? Rhys conveniently draws the connection between them for us again:
“Some were as lovely as you, Elain,” Rhys said from beside Feyre, “from the outside. But once they set foot into the arena of battle, they became as bloodthirsty as Amren.” (acosf)
We see Amren’s bloodthirsty form unleashed on the battlefield, drinking in the deaths of those who run from her.
She exploded from that mortal shell, light blinding us. Light and fire.
She was roaring—in victory and rage and pain. And I could have sworn I saw great, burning wings, each feather a simmering ember, spread wide. Could have sworn a crown of incandescent light floated just above her flaming hair.
She spread those wings, flame and light rippling to encompass her, no more than a burning behemoth that swept down upon Hybern’s armies. They began running.
Amren came down on them like a hammer, raining fire and brimstone.
She swept through them, burning them, drinking in their death. Some died at the mere whisper of her passing. (acowar)
Amren behaves like an otherworldly bird of prey, and since running activates a predator’s hunting instincts, Rhys tells allies not to run. Like Amren, Elain may also transform into a flying predator (owl, witch, Illyrian, sphinx…if she’s a full-powered shape-shifter, the sky is the limit…or is it? More on that in Groundings.)
@truthflower19 suggested that Elain’s powers could also be connected to Ragana, a witch in Baltic mythology with the power of Sight and shape-shifting abilities. It seems like Ragana was conflated with Laima, or Laumé, at some point, and referred to as laumé-ragana. Laumé were woodland fairies (or maybe even a benevolent deity) who were associated with pregnant women, birth, and fate; they could take different forms or change others into different forms. Laumé were also associated with domesticity and had a talent for weaving, which brings us back to shapeshifting.
His magic could leap between one element and another, yet the ability to shift lay within something else entirely. Lay within a part of him that had always yearned for one thing above all others: to let go. To be free. As Temis, Goddess of Wild Things, was free—uncaged. As he had once wished to be, when he had been little more than a reckless, idealistic prince.
It was the magic’s sole command: let go. Let go of who and what he’d become since that collar and emerge into something new, something different.
[...]
“What are you trying to turn into, exactly? Or who?”
The opposite of what he was. The opposite of the man who’d overlooked Sorscha’s presence for years. And offered her only death in the end. He’d be glad to let go of it, if only the magic would allow him.
“Nothing,” he said. Many of the Thirteen and Crochans went back to their meager meals at his dull response. “I just want to see if it’s possible, for someone with my manner of magic. To even change small features.” Not a lie, not entirely.
Manon frowned, as if trying to work out some puzzle she couldn’t quite grasp.
“But were you to succeed,” Glennis pressed, “who would you wish to be?”
He didn’t know. Couldn’t conjure an image beyond empty darkness. Damaris, at his side, would have no answer, either.
Dorian peered inward, feeling the sea of magic that roiled inside him. He traced its shape with careful, invisible hands. Followed a thread within himself not to his gut, but to his still-cracked heart. Who do you wish to be? There, like the seed of power that Cyrene had stolen, it lay—the little snarl in his magic. Not a snarl, but a knot—a knot in a tapestry. One that he might weave.
One he might fashion into something if he dared.
Who do you wish to be? he asked the barely woven tapestry within himself. Let the threads and knots take form, crafting the picture within his mind. Starting small.
Glennis chuckled. “Your eyes are green now, king.” Dorian started, heart thundering. The others again halted their lunches, gaping, some leaning in to peer at him more closely. But he fed his magic into the loom within himself, adding to the emerging picture.
“Och, golden hair does not suit you at all.” Asterin grimaced. “You look sickly.”
Who did he wish to be? Anyone but himself. But what he’d become. (koa)
Dorian wishes to become something different. In order to change his outward appearance, he peers inward and weaves a picture in his mind. Rhysand uses similar language to consider the possibility of Elain’s transformation:
He surveyed the study as he thought. “But I wonder if everyone has spent so long assuming Elain is sweet and innocent that she felt she had to be that way or else she’d disappoint you all.” He sighed toward the ceiling. “With time and safety, perhaps we’ll see a different side of her emerge.” (Feysand bonus)
It’s interesting that her physical appearance is emphasized and remarked upon repeatedly, including the scene in which she is Made.
More water than seemed possible dumped out in a cascade. Black, smoke-coated water. And Elain, as if she’d been thrown by a wave, washed onto the stones facedown.
Her legs were so pale—so delicate. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen them bare.
The queens pushed forward. Alive, she had to be alive, had to have wanted to live—
Elain sucked in a breath, her fine-boned back rising, her wet nightgown nearly sheer. And as she rose from the ground onto her elbows, the gag in place, as she twisted to look at me— Nesta began roaring again.
Pale skin started to glow. Her face had somehow become more beautiful—infinitely beautiful, and her ears … Elain’s ears were now pointed beneath her sodden hair. (acomaf)
Elain’s primary asset, as a proper lady, is her beauty, and it has functioned as a cage of sorts, which is why it’s interesting her mother says this:
Elain is pleasant to look at, her mother had once mused while Nesta sat beside her dressing table, a servant silently brushing her mother’s gold-brown hair, but she has no ambition. She does not dream beyond her garden and pretty clothes. She will be an asset on the marriage market for us one day, if that beauty holds, but it will be our own maneuverings, Nesta, not hers, that win us an advantageous match. (acofas)
This statement is ominous, but it follows the ponderings of Rhys and Feyre in their bonus chapter. We will see a different side (or form?) emerge and it won’t be as innocent or sweet as expected.
Dorian references the Goddess of Wild Things in his thoughts about shape-shifting. As @psychologynerd and I discussed, Temis is an interesting word choice on Sarah’s part. Themis is the Greek goddess of law and order, and she is associated with oracles and prophecies. Perhaps it isn’t a coincidence that many of those with Sight navigate different forms. They are connected to the gods, whose own forms are fluid. Elain’s Sight could certainly help her shape-shift, providing many images from which she can weave a new form.
The use of weaving in Dorian’s informal lesson reminds me of Elain’s presence in the weaver scene with Feyre in acofas. She is openly curious about the weaver’s ability to create Void (darkness) and Hope (iridescent light). @silverlinedeyes wondered a long time ago if Elain could use this woven Void to shadow walk in her story, and I have a few related ideas on how it might be wielded. The first relates to shifting form, and the second involves moving like a force as Urd does (more on the latter in the Song of the wind and Groundings). If Elain can weave a new form, like the goddess of fate, how might this power manifest? Is she a full-powered shape-shifter?
For a breath she wished for a shape-shifter’s heart so she could shed her skin and weave herself into something else, the music or the wind, and blow across the world. (hof)
Full-powered shape-shifters can replicate someone’s form, making it an incredibly powerful ability. Shape-shifters are spies and thieves and assassins.
A sly cat’s glance in Aelin’s direction. Rowan, seated on Aedion’s right, cocked his head to the side. “Do you need an introduction?” Lysandra’s smile grew. “I like your fangs,” she said sweetly. Aelin choked on her grape. Of course Lysandra did. Rowan gave a little grin that usually sent Aelin running. “Are you studying them so you can replicate them when you take my form, shape-shifter?” Aelin’s fork froze in midair. “Bullshit,” Aedion said. All amusement had vanished from the courtesan’s face. Shape-shifter.
Holy gods. What was fire magic, or wind and ice, compared to shape-shifting? Shifters: spies and thieves and assassins able to demand any price for their services; the bane of courts across the world, so feared that they’d been hunted nearly to extinction even before Adarlan had banned magic. (qos)
Lysandra, a full-powered shape-shifter, used her gift to survive and found that things came easier to her when she wore more beautiful faces.
“I used my abilities. Sometimes I was human; sometimes I wore the skins of other street children with high standing in their packs; sometimes I became an alley cat or a rat or a gull. And then I learned that if I made myself prettier—if I made myself beautiful—when I begged for money, it came far faster. I was wearing one of those beautiful faces the day magic fell. And I’ve been stuck in it ever since.” (qos)
Lysandra’s loss of her true form is an echo of the Hind’s tale of a witch who loses sight of her true self and her true form. Shifting relies on an image in the mind, a memory. And if it is lost–or taken–so is one’s true form.
That was the danger of shifting—that you would forget your real form, because it’s the memory of it that guides the shifting.” (qos)
We have already seen Elain alter her appearance strategically at least once (and likely more than once, as many have theorized) to help others. As someone who is deeply connected to the land, and consistently compared to animals, it would make sense for her to weave a fanged beast form. And this beast form might still love the sun and plants, just like everyone’s favorite flower-smelling wyvern.
Next: Herbs she planted, or how herbs link Elain to witches.
