Page 60 of A Time of Witches

The earth can aid in all areas of life. But what can heal can also kill.

You are forewarned if you do not stay on the chosen path, your gifts will fall silent. It is for that reason I implore you to enlist caution when creating your charms and enchantments, daughter. Work with a pure heart lest your harm to others befall you threefold.

If you read this to learn, do so under a waxing moon to sharpen your understanding.

If there is no time to spare for such measures, trust the earth to guide you.

First, open your heart and center your mind on the world. From the dirt beneath your feet, to the leaves in the trees, the chattering rush of a stream, the song of the wind, the life-giving warmth of the sun, the power of the moon’s silver gleam.

There is power all around us. It will call. You need only answer.

Do not allow your frustration and impatience to sway you. You are a chalice to be filled with the potency of this world. Clearing your mind will ease your struggles.

Here is a simple charm to enhance your gifts.

Place into a satchel to wear upon your person:

Crystal to amplify intentions

Amethyst to elicit power

Rosemary to heighten your senses

Heads of snakeroot to amplify your need

Laurel for success

Bring these together by the light of three candles with focus and intention.

This bears repeating: Only use the earth’s energy for good, no matter the harms you face in life.

May the earth and my love guide you.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Sybil

Sybil finally received her meager ration of bread and ale the following day and was relocated into the cell with Edith.

Despite the desperate gnaw of hunger and risk to herself, Sybil tossed a bit of her bread to the little girl who still remained in the cell of starving women. Hopkins would likely call for her later that day.

The guards mocked the girl often, laughing at her inability to speak or even nod or shake her head.

How was a child with such limited ability to communicate supposed to confess to witchcraft?

She caught the bread with a quiet look of gratitude.

During the days spent starving together, Sybil had come to learn more of her. Not through speech, but through the nights when the child slept, tucked into herself like a babe pulled too soon from the womb. In the whimpers she issued forth, the soft cries for her mother.

A mother who never answered. A mother who never sought her child locked within the prison.

That was all Sybil needed to know.

A commotion of shouts came from the door and the prisoners stirred into action. Some ran to the bars, peering out to see who had arrived. Others cowered back against the wall, out of the way of a cudgel swing.

The guards staggered forward, dragging a woman between them, flame red hair spilling down her back.

Sybil’s heart snared in her throat.