The Spell

The icy Nordic wind blew across the dark Baltic Sea, hastily sweeping the clouds across a full blue moon. With a deep breathe she focused her concentration and began the ritual she had been preparing for for so many years. The timing was crucial and the final ingredient had to be dropped into the cauldron at the precise moment the last word of the incantation was uttered. 

She had relentlessly practiced the ritual for weeks before the eve of the rising of the Mother Moon. Everything was prepared meticulously just as it was revealed to her by The Spirit in her waking dream. It was the only way she could reach The Girl. The girl who was lost in the past. It was the only time she could get to her and right the wrongs and heal the wounds. 

As she began to sing the ancient incantations of a language long gone from this world, she readied offerings to the small fire before her. Her gaze fell upon the first to be sacrificed to the forgotten god who she beckoned to enact her plight. She ran left her hand mindlessly across her now, almost, bare head, feeling a deep pain of loss in her chest, with her right she lifted a plait of golden hair off the reed ceremonial mat before her. Her voice trembled as she raised the hair above the flames. “Calm yourself. Focus. This is your only chance,” she thought to herself. This was too important to mess up. As she dropped the braid into the fire the flames raised up, turning into a brilliant blue. It was summoned. The ancient one was listening. Within her excitement she could feel an unfathomable terror. This being was powerful. One wrong move may release its wrath upon her and then all would be lost.“Focus. Show no fear,” she inwardly screamed at herself. 

Unseen in the darkness, out of reach of the fire's protective light, far off drums began to beat a quiet, slow and steady rhythm at first. Steadily and with increasing tempo, the beating grew louder, as if it was coming closer and closer. It seems to be keeping in rhythm with her racing heart, every thump resounded within her ribcage. The vibration was palpable and she could start to see it moving through the air in waves of light as if she was watching the surface of water rippling under a strong wind. It was mesmerising. “Its everywhere. Coming off of everything. Everything is vibrating,” the realisation made her stand on end and a shiver ran up her spine. “Everything is connected.”

Next was the Cries of Innocence. She lifted a small vile and held it to the light, inspecting it’s contents. She had meticulously collected her own infant son’s tears, catching them as they would run down his cheeks when he wept. She kissed the bottle and thanked him for gift. As she emptied the contents of the bottle into the blue flames, bright gold sparks shot out of it into the sky, creating more ripples of luminous vibration. They seemed to rise up and join the stars in the dark sky, illuminating the night further.

Next, her gaze fell upon her mother’s wedding ring. She snatched it up and confidently tossed it in without a care. It held no sentiment for her and she felt a freedom in sending it into oblivion. It seemed to drop right through the fire into another realm as the flames devoured it fervently.  

The White Eagle’s feather was the most challenging ingredient to attain. It took weeks of searching the forests to find it. She had to make many offerings to the trees before she proved her worth and they agreed to bless her with it. She blew along the pearlescent quill, watching the alabaster vibrations flowing off it. After running a finger lightly along one side she gently dropped it into the centre of the blaze. An explosion of white vibration ran out in all directions as the feather touched the flames. It ran through the woman, winding her from the force. She gasped, straining to maintain concentration and continue her chanting. The Old One was testing her resolve. Sweat poured from her brow running into her eyes. “I will not stop. I must persist.”

Finally, she was so close, she reached for the final offering, the Acacia branch from the land of her birth. She lifted it up to her nose and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the veld. Images of the red earth filled her mind and sounds of cicadas and Hadedas filled her ears making her feel homesick. She looked up at the moon and slowly began to chant the final words of the incantation. This was it. This was the culmination of so much hard work. It was finally here. The Girl was finally within reach. She threw the powerful plant into fire. 

The flames immediately rose up and started to surround her, swirling around her creating a pulsing vortex of brilliant light and vibration. Everything around her disappeared as the tornado reverberated, lifting her into the air, drowning out the sounds of the wind and water. The old god was satisfied with her offerings and dained to bless her with what she strived for. The gateway was created. As she travelled through time and space she noticed another vortex forming to her left. The small whirlpool grew bigger and bigger and soon the woman could see through it. There she was. The Girl was right there, staring into the flames, at her. 

She called out, flaying in the air, trying to swim towards her. She reached out through the whirling rift and embraced the child her arms . An embrace only she could give. An embrace of pure love, acceptance and healing. She whispered into the child’s ear. She told her a great secret, all the while holding her close. The child listened and began to smile. Her smile beamed across time and ended on the woman lips.