Life Passed

A Transgender Paranormal Fantasy

From the Paranormal Visitor Universe

Chapter Ten: Tabitha's Return

By Sasha Zarya Nexus

Can Laura and Minuet as Tabitha returns face the challenge
of Elias and his followers and the revelation of Ruth?

Copyright 2008, 2025 by Sasha Zarya Nexus.
All Rights Reserved.

Author's Note:

This book, in it's entirety, is available on my Patreon. BCTS will get weekly postings on Tuesdays to complete it here. Patreon Free Members can read my new complete book by chapters, Things We Do for Love

The awakening of the Triskelion symbols on our Celtic Triquetra necklaces and Helen's formation of our next-generation circle had left Laura and me reeling from the magnitude of our new responsibilities. But as we sat together in my bedroom that night, our necklaces still glowing softly with ancient power, I realized that Helen's warnings about Elias Vire were about to become terrifyingly real.

"Minuet," Laura said, her voice taking on an urgent tone as she examined the morning news on her phone, "you need to see this."

I looked over her shoulder at the screen, and my blood ran cold. The headline read: "Local Preacher Calls for Community Purification Following Suspicious Fires."

The article featured a photograph of Elias Vire standing before his congregation at the Cedar Hollow Community Church, his burn-scarred hands raised in passionate gesture. Even through the digital image, I could feel the heat radiating from him, and the Triskelion symbol on my necklace grew warm in response.

"He's not hiding anymore," I whispered, reading the quotes attributed to him. "Listen to this: 'The demons walk among us, disguised as innocence itself. They wear the symbols of their dark masters openly, believing themselves protected by their unholy bonds.'"

Laura's face had gone pale. "He's talking about our necklaces. About us."

The Sunday Sermon
That morning, Michelle insisted we attend the community interfaith service that was held monthly at the town hall—a gathering where different spiritual traditions came together in harmony. But as we walked through the doors, I could sense that something fundamental had shifted in Cedar Hollow's spiritual landscape.

The usual warm atmosphere of mutual respect and understanding had been replaced by an undercurrent of tension. I noticed several families from various Wiccan circles sitting together, their Celtic jewelry tucked discretely beneath their clothing. On the opposite side of the room, members of Elias's congregation clustered together, their expressions ranging from suspicious to openly hostile.

"This is bad," Laura murmured, her hand finding mine as we took our seats with Michelle and Gladys. "I can feel the elemental's influence even from here."

She was right. The fire spirit's presence seemed to permeate the space, creating an atmosphere of barely contained rage that made my skin prickle with unease. The Triskelion symbol beneath my shirt had grown uncomfortably warm, responding to the supernatural threat.

When Elias rose to speak during the interfaith portion of the service, the temperature in the room seemed to rise several degrees. His eyes—which flickered with that unnatural inner flame—swept across the gathered crowd with predatory intensity.

"My friends," he began, his voice carrying an authority that made people lean forward despite themselves, "I come before you today not as a man of one faith speaking to another, but as someone who has seen the truth that lies beneath the surface of our peaceful community."

Helen's spiritual form materialized beside our row, visible only to those of us who carried the ancient magic. Her expression was deeply troubled as she watched Elias begin his performance.

"He's learned to control the elemental's power," Helen whispered, her voice carrying only to Laura and me. "He can internalize it long enough to appear normal, but the fire is still there, burning just beneath the surface."

The Congregation Galvanized
Elias's sermon was a masterpiece of manipulation, weaving together legitimate concerns about the recent fires with carefully crafted fear about "unnatural influences" in their community. He spoke of divine protection, of being chosen to survive the forest fire that had marked him, of a calling to cleanse the land of corruption.

"I have seen the face of evil," he declared, his voice rising with passion. "It wears the mask of innocence, hides behind symbols of ancient power, and seeks to corrupt our children with its twisted teachings."

As he spoke, I noticed several members of his congregation nodding in agreement, their faces reflecting a mixture of fear and righteous anger. At the front of the group sat Deacon Amon Crane, a thin man with cold eyes who seemed to be taking mental notes of every word.

"The demons among us believe they are protected by their unholy trinkets," Elias continued, his gaze sweeping directly over our section. "But no earthly charm can stand against the purifying fire of divine justice."

The Celtic Triquetra necklace beneath my shirt had grown so hot it was almost painful, and I could see Laura struggling with the same discomfort. Around us, other members of the Wiccan community were shifting uncomfortably, clearly feeling the supernatural pressure Elias was projecting.

"We must act," Elias declared, his voice reaching a crescendo. "We must drive the corruption from our midst before it spreads further. The children of this community deserve to grow up free from the influence of those who would pervert the natural order."

The Vote for Action
What happened next chilled me to the bone. Deacon Crane stood up, his voice carrying clearly across the now-silent room.

"Brothers and sisters," he said, his tone deceptively reasonable, "Preacher Vire speaks the truth. We've all seen the signs—the unnatural fires, the strange symbols, the corruption of our young people. I propose that we, as a community, take action to protect our families."

"What kind of action?" someone called out from the back.

Crane's smile was cold and calculating. "We identify those who practice the dark arts. We make it clear that their presence is no longer welcome in Cedar Hollow. We give them the opportunity to leave peacefully, or we help them understand that their corruption will not be tolerated."

The room erupted in murmurs of agreement from Elias's congregation, while members of the Wiccan community sat in stunned silence. I felt Michelle's hand tighten on my shoulder, her protective instincts flaring.

"All in favor of forming a community action committee to address these concerns?" Crane continued, raising his hand.

Nearly half the room raised their hands in support, while the other half sat in shocked silence. The interfaith service had been transformed into a witch hunt, and we were the targets.

The Elemental's Influence Spreads
As the meeting dissolved into heated discussions and people began filing out, I could feel the fire elemental's satisfaction radiating through the room. It had successfully turned neighbor against neighbor, friend against friend, using Elias's charismatic leadership and the congregation's fears to create the very division it fed upon.

"We need to get home," Michelle said quietly, her voice tight with controlled fear. "Now."

But as we made our way toward the exit, Deacon Crane intercepted us, his cold eyes fixed on the barely visible outline of my necklace beneath my shirt.

"Mrs. Johnson," he said with false politeness, "I don't believe we've been properly introduced to your daughter. She's new to our community, isn't she?"

"Minuet has been part of our family for years," Michelle replied evenly, though I could hear the tension in her voice. "She's just been... away at school."

Crane's smile didn't reach his eyes. "How interesting. And what school would that be? I'd love to hear about her educational experiences."

The trap was obvious—any answer Michelle gave could be checked, and my sudden appearance in the community would raise questions we couldn't answer without revealing the supernatural truth of my transformation.

"A private institution," Michelle said carefully. "Very exclusive. I'm sure you understand the need for discretion when it comes to our children's education."

"Of course," Crane replied, but his expression made it clear he wasn't satisfied. "Well, I do hope young Minuet will find our community... welcoming. Though I should mention that the action committee will be taking a special interest in newcomers. Just to ensure they understand our local values."

The Threat Becomes Personal
As we finally escaped the town hall and made our way to the car, I could feel Crane's eyes following us. The fire elemental's influence had found a perfect secondary host in the deacon—someone whose natural inclination toward control and judgment made him an ideal vessel for spreading fear and hatred.

"They're going to come for us," Laura said once we were safely in Michelle's car. "Not just the circles, but anyone who doesn't fit their definition of 'normal.'"

Helen's spiritual form appeared in the passenger seat, her energy more agitated than I'd ever seen it. "The elemental is using their fear to create an army. Elias provides the charismatic leadership, but Crane is the one who will organize the actual persecution."

"What do we do?" I asked, my twelve-year-old voice small in the face of such overwhelming opposition.

"We prepare," Michelle said grimly, starting the car. "We contact all the circles, we warn everyone who might be targeted, and we figure out how to protect our community from what's coming."

As we drove home, I could see smoke rising from the direction of the forest—another fire, larger than the previous ones. Elias was testing his powers again, and each act of destruction made him stronger.

The Campaign Begins
That evening, our phone rang constantly as word spread through the Wiccan community about what had happened at the interfaith service. Circle leaders from across the region called to share similar experiences—congregation members asking pointed questions about "unusual" neighbors, community meetings where "concerned citizens" raised questions about "non-traditional" families.

"It's coordinated," Tabitha said when she arrived at our house with several other circle leaders. "They're not just targeting us randomly. They have a list."

She spread out a sheet of paper on our kitchen table, and my blood ran cold as I read the names written in Crane's precise handwriting. Every major Wiccan family in the region was listed, along with detailed notes about their practices, their children, their jobs, their vulnerabilities.

"How did they get this information?" Gladys asked, her voice tight with fear.

"They've been watching us for months," Tabitha replied. "Probably since the first fire. Every time we've gathered, every time we've worn our symbols openly, every time we've practiced our faith—they've been taking notes."

My name was on the list, along with a question mark and the notation "Investigate background—sudden appearance suspicious."

"They know something's not right about my story," I said, pointing to the entry. "They're going to keep digging until they find inconsistencies."

Helen's spiritual form flickered with distress. "The elemental is more cunning than I realized. It's not just using brute force—it's using human intelligence and organization to achieve its goals."

The Ultimatum
The next morning, we found a letter slipped under our front door. It was written on official-looking letterhead from the "Cedar Hollow Community Protection Committee" and signed by Deacon Amon Crane.

"Dear Residents," it began, "It has come to our attention that certain individuals in our community have been engaging in practices that are inconsistent with our traditional values and potentially harmful to our children. In the interest of maintaining peace and protecting our families, we are offering these individuals the opportunity to voluntarily relocate to communities more suited to their... alternative lifestyles."

"Those who choose to remain will be subject to increased community oversight and may find that local businesses and services are no longer available to them. We trust that reasonable people will make the right choice for everyone involved."

"You have one week to decide."

The letter was polite, reasonable-sounding, and absolutely terrifying in its implications. They were giving us a choice: leave voluntarily or face systematic persecution.

"One week," Michelle said, her voice hollow. "They're giving us one week to abandon our homes, our lives, everything we've built here."

"Or they'll make our lives so miserable we'll have no choice but to leave," Laura added, her young face set with determination that reminded me of her ancient bloodline.

Helen's spiritual form appeared between us, her energy blazing with protective fury. "The elemental thinks it's won. It believes that by turning the community against us, it can drive us away without having to face us directly."

"But it's wrong," I said, surprising myself with the strength in my voice. "We're not going anywhere. This is our home too."

The Triskelion symbol on my necklace pulsed with warm light, and I felt Laura's doing the same. The power of three was awakening, and with it, the determination to stand against the forces of hatred and fear.

The Battle Lines Drawn
As the week progressed, the persecution began in earnest. Wiccan families found their children excluded from school activities, their businesses boycotted, their neighbors suddenly unfriendly. Windows were broken, gardens were vandalized, and threatening messages appeared on doorsteps.

But something unexpected happened as well. Not everyone in Cedar Hollow supported Crane's campaign. Many community members—people of various faiths and no faith at all—began speaking out against the persecution. They formed their own committee, dedicated to protecting religious freedom and maintaining the community's traditional values of tolerance and acceptance.

"The fire elemental made a mistake," Helen observed as we watched a counter-protest forming in the town square. "It assumed that fear would unite everyone against us. Instead, it's revealed the true character of our neighbors."

She was right. The community was dividing, but not along the lines Elias and Crane had expected. Instead of a unified front against the Wiccan families, Cedar Hollow was splitting between those who chose fear and those who chose love.

"The real battle is just beginning," Laura said, her hand finding mine as we watched the two groups face off in the square below. "And we're going to be right in the middle of it."

The Celtic Triquetra necklaces around our necks pulsed with synchronized light, and I felt the ancient magic flowing through our bond. Whatever came next, we would face it together—three girls bound by friendship, protected by love, and strong enough to believe that even the most broken souls could be healed.

The war for Cedar Hollow's soul had begun, and the fire elemental was about to learn that love, not hate, was the most powerful force in any universe. Our real test was just beginning, but we were ready to meet it with the unbreakable bonds of the Celtic sisterhood and the wisdom that Helen had passed down to us.

The congregation had been galvanized, the battle lines had been drawn, and the fate of our community hung in the balance. But as I looked at Laura's determined face and felt Michelle's protective presence behind us, I knew that we would not go quietly into the darkness that Elias and his followers tried to impose.

The power of three was awakening, and with it, the hope that love could triumph over even the most ancient and twisted hatred.