Here is the next part of Purnima (Book 7 of Waldmeer).
“At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless; Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,” (T. S. Eliot)
Mr Peen’s Fire
Next full moon, Merlyn found herself not at Ajna Temple (the Manipura Dancers and Waldmeer Warriors collaboration had been postponed), nor at Purnima Passage. In fact, she wasn’t anywhere in Waldmeer. She was tossing and turning on Tom’s uncomfortable sofa bed in the city. It was Friday, and that meant adult ballet class, at the State Ballet, and then a visit to Tom & Hardy.
In Long Hill, at the entrance of the Outer Circle (interdimensional):
“When you enter the Outer Circle,” said Lan-Lan to Vera, “the most pressing problem is recall. On moving into its atmosphere, you will forget who you are and why you are there.”
“If I cannot remember who I am, I will be very vulnerable,” said Vera as she backed away from the entrance at the top of Long Hill.
“Don’t worry,” said Lan-Lan. “The loss of memory is only partial. If you can grasp onto some of it, its return will be hastened.” He stepped through the archway into the Outer Circle saying, “I will be with you.”
Vera glanced backwards to Long Hill but, instead of being inviting, it looked misty and impenetrable. She recalled Mullum-Mullum’s initial instructions,
Think not you can return on the path that leads to the fork. Taken once, it disappears as the choice lies ahead.
Ever since Farkas had stormed out of the cafe, not to return, Maria had felt ill. She was even finding some of the cafe customers annoying. Mrs. Reisenden was one of them. Maria’s mother liked her and enjoyed talking with her whenever she was visiting Waldmeer.
“You have returned,” said Maria’s mother with obvious delight. “Do tell me how life has been in the city since you have last been here on holidays.”
In the spirit world of a garden, in Waldmeer, on Earth:
The gardener walked into their lives bright and sharp. Her need was covered by a ready smile. She came from a house with walls that echoed loneliness. On the very first day, her eyes were drawn to the little flower in the corner of the garden. Its beauty was in its simplicity. The gardener’s jealousy was already born. She watched it every day. It moved to the breeze and reached for the sunshine. The flower did not complain about the dark, the wind or the cold. Its roots had strength unseen.