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After countless nights and endless broken dreams, she had finally mustered up the strength to do what she knew was needing to be done...
Softly, quietly, ever-so-slowly, she walked down to the graveyard... their special place, the one they had gone to the night they first began to see each other. She had parked the car down the road so as not to dispel the beauty of the chilled and moonlit night.
As she approached the gate, she almost thought she could hear weeping from within the hallowed ground and gave pause, only to approach again when all seemed silent and clear.
She had slung a pack across her shoulders, one that contained all she would need for this one last visit: athame, candles, dragon's blood. Sage, twine and a picture of the one whom she'd never forget, not if she lived a thousand years... She carried a bit of pine and a couple of rocks to keep her company in this task as well, for she would need their strength and solidity to carry this one last task through.
One task to end them all, one task to bind them, she thought with chagrin. Sometimes, her inner Tolkien groupie managed to surface even at the most inopportune moments... shrugging, she set the thought aside, but not before acknowledging the truth within that one random thought that had sailed across her mind.
Slowly, she reached the spot in the middle of the road where they'd first stopped, knelt down in supplication to the Guardian that gave her leave to walk here freely. She offered sage and pine to the spirits, a bit of bread and honey to ease their hunger and a few drops of wine to slake their thirst... She asked their souls to be still this night, to wake and walk only after she was done with the night's work.
Slowly, she set the bag down, wishing with all she held within her soul that she was elsewhere right now, that she was within his arms, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, feeling his heart race against her palm... but that was not now, nor had it been for so very, very long...
Now... now she was alone, left to the night to do her workings. This was what Reality had turned into, not the fleeting dreams she wished she could continue to pursue.
So instead, she steeled herself, drew up that last little bit of reserve she had within her to do this act, this act of kindness towards him, betrayal to herself, and as she knelt, she automatically cast her circle, using nothing but her own energy, feeling it pour forth from within her without aide of staff or wand, nor even athame.
She set the candles about her, five in all, then lit them as the wind stilled about her, as if it, too, knew the solemnity of this occasion. White, they were, to signify light even within the darkest of times, white to signify hope, even while the door she had held open for hope had in reality shut so very long ago. White to signify purity... that which had been torn from her soul with the betrayal of the one she held closest to her self. White... because even after all this time, she still held to all that was good and right in the world.
She scattered the pine about her, added some sage and dragon's blood for power and clarity. Salt, too, to cleanse her mind and give strength to her calls tonight. She would need all the help she could get, for this was no easy task, sacrificing her heart this one last time...
Athame in hand, she began the chant, word after ancient word of power tumbling forth from her mouth as she lost herself in the working. As the night grew darker, the candles seemed to jump out of the darkness, seal her off from the rest of the land, as if the only thing that was real was her within the circle, as if the only time that counted was now, as if the only things that consisted of reality were the circle, the candles, the athame and herself.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she drew the blade across her palm, her eyes staring sightless out above her towards the moon. The blood ran down, crimson, clear, and landed on the small pile of salt mixed with dragons blood she had poured there. Blood mixed with blood, salt with salt... twin to twin, she called, binded, set them forth to do as she asked.
She took the picture from her pack one last time, kissed his face... the one she knew so well, even in sleep, even in death perhaps, and set it gingerly on top of the pile. She added stones, a raven's feather, a bit of dirt. She twined the hemp around a stick, murmuring words of ancient power as she did so, no longer asking the aide of the gods, no longer pleading for another's help... she knew neither would come. Instead, she drew on her own strength, her own power... it would have to be enough.
She kissed her fingers, touched them to the likeness of his lips, then sadly, softly, she lit the picture aflame... watched it begin to burn, crinkling and snapping before her very eyes as the tears finally came in a torrent. A silent sob threatened to tear her very soul in two, but she swallowed it, choked it down, kept it at bay within her. There'd be time for that later... but she needed to finish this while she still held the strength.
She sat there, witnessing the final close to all she once held dear, still held dear if she wanted to be truthful about that fact, but that was just it... she dealt in facts, in reality, and she knew this was the only course that she could set for both of them now. For him to truly be free of her as he so wished, for her to finally cut the ties that bound them, despite the pain she knew would be there.
She stared silently down as the flames consumed the image, licked at the blood as it boiled and popped above the salt and dragon's blood. She looked blankly at the pile of ash that littered the salt mixture, wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, hiccuping as she did so...
It was done, finished. She felt nothing now... only hollow and empty and alone...
© 2008 Wyn
Softly, quietly, ever-so-slowly, she walked down to the graveyard... their special place, the one they had gone to the night they first began to see each other. She had parked the car down the road so as not to dispel the beauty of the chilled and moonlit night.
As she approached the gate, she almost thought she could hear weeping from within the hallowed ground and gave pause, only to approach again when all seemed silent and clear.
She had slung a pack across her shoulders, one that contained all she would need for this one last visit: athame, candles, dragon's blood. Sage, twine and a picture of the one whom she'd never forget, not if she lived a thousand years... She carried a bit of pine and a couple of rocks to keep her company in this task as well, for she would need their strength and solidity to carry this one last task through.
One task to end them all, one task to bind them, she thought with chagrin. Sometimes, her inner Tolkien groupie managed to surface even at the most inopportune moments... shrugging, she set the thought aside, but not before acknowledging the truth within that one random thought that had sailed across her mind.
Slowly, she reached the spot in the middle of the road where they'd first stopped, knelt down in supplication to the Guardian that gave her leave to walk here freely. She offered sage and pine to the spirits, a bit of bread and honey to ease their hunger and a few drops of wine to slake their thirst... She asked their souls to be still this night, to wake and walk only after she was done with the night's work.
Slowly, she set the bag down, wishing with all she held within her soul that she was elsewhere right now, that she was within his arms, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, feeling his heart race against her palm... but that was not now, nor had it been for so very, very long...
Now... now she was alone, left to the night to do her workings. This was what Reality had turned into, not the fleeting dreams she wished she could continue to pursue.
So instead, she steeled herself, drew up that last little bit of reserve she had within her to do this act, this act of kindness towards him, betrayal to herself, and as she knelt, she automatically cast her circle, using nothing but her own energy, feeling it pour forth from within her without aide of staff or wand, nor even athame.
She set the candles about her, five in all, then lit them as the wind stilled about her, as if it, too, knew the solemnity of this occasion. White, they were, to signify light even within the darkest of times, white to signify hope, even while the door she had held open for hope had in reality shut so very long ago. White to signify purity... that which had been torn from her soul with the betrayal of the one she held closest to her self. White... because even after all this time, she still held to all that was good and right in the world.
She scattered the pine about her, added some sage and dragon's blood for power and clarity. Salt, too, to cleanse her mind and give strength to her calls tonight. She would need all the help she could get, for this was no easy task, sacrificing her heart this one last time...
Athame in hand, she began the chant, word after ancient word of power tumbling forth from her mouth as she lost herself in the working. As the night grew darker, the candles seemed to jump out of the darkness, seal her off from the rest of the land, as if the only thing that was real was her within the circle, as if the only time that counted was now, as if the only things that consisted of reality were the circle, the candles, the athame and herself.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she drew the blade across her palm, her eyes staring sightless out above her towards the moon. The blood ran down, crimson, clear, and landed on the small pile of salt mixed with dragons blood she had poured there. Blood mixed with blood, salt with salt... twin to twin, she called, binded, set them forth to do as she asked.
She took the picture from her pack one last time, kissed his face... the one she knew so well, even in sleep, even in death perhaps, and set it gingerly on top of the pile. She added stones, a raven's feather, a bit of dirt. She twined the hemp around a stick, murmuring words of ancient power as she did so, no longer asking the aide of the gods, no longer pleading for another's help... she knew neither would come. Instead, she drew on her own strength, her own power... it would have to be enough.
She kissed her fingers, touched them to the likeness of his lips, then sadly, softly, she lit the picture aflame... watched it begin to burn, crinkling and snapping before her very eyes as the tears finally came in a torrent. A silent sob threatened to tear her very soul in two, but she swallowed it, choked it down, kept it at bay within her. There'd be time for that later... but she needed to finish this while she still held the strength.
She sat there, witnessing the final close to all she once held dear, still held dear if she wanted to be truthful about that fact, but that was just it... she dealt in facts, in reality, and she knew this was the only course that she could set for both of them now. For him to truly be free of her as he so wished, for her to finally cut the ties that bound them, despite the pain she knew would be there.
She stared silently down as the flames consumed the image, licked at the blood as it boiled and popped above the salt and dragon's blood. She looked blankly at the pile of ash that littered the salt mixture, wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, hiccuping as she did so...
It was done, finished. She felt nothing now... only hollow and empty and alone...
© 2008 Wyn