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By right of birth, of death and design,
I shall lift the title, the privilege, the sway,
And give to another, to not lead astray
Those who’ve been placed under her command,
But to guide them all with a steady hand.
Back and forth she went, wearing a path into the dirt floor as her mind scrambled to find the words to craft a new spell from the one Shobha had created. She let her magic rise, infuse her thoughts, guide her reasoning. Trust the process. Trust the magic. It would find the right words. It had to.
Her lips moved as she soundlessly tried out this sentence and that, discarding the options that didn’t feel right. Here and there, it would click, as if sliding a puzzle piece into the correct place.
She couldn’t think about how time was ticking, couldn’t wonder how many minutes might be left until the spell’s magic ran through all the ward points and completed the circle. There was no space in her mind for that.
It was only her, and her magic, and the humming force of creation and the power of her faith.
The words clicked. All of them.
She opened her eyes, sucked in a breath, and turned to Tallak. “Grab Juneau. Place her in the circle.”
He obeyed without hesitation, without questioning her, and while he ran over to Juneau, Hazel grabbed the dagger, dashed to the ritual remains, moved the candles, and rolled the mutilated corpse of the human out of the circle, trying not to get blood on her hands. With quick efficiency, she redrew the pentagram, closed the salt lines, and replaced the candles.
Tallak dumped Juneau in the circle and was about to step out when Hazel grabbed his arm.
“No,” she said, catching his gaze. “You need to stay here.”
A line formed between his brows, but he followed her order.
“May Arawn grant me protection,” she began without delay.
Her magic rose, pumped and primed, and she uncorked the vial of oil to drip some on her finger. Drawing a pentagram on Tallak’s forehead, she intoned,
“From this body and mind chosen to wield
magic and might, to punish and shield,
I shall lift the power, the force, and the rights…”
Here she crouched down next to Juneau and drew a pentagram on her forehead as well, while she continued her chant.
“…and give to another, to carry the light,
The magic that lives in a witch’s soul,
For her to have, to hold and control.”
Her powers writhed, twined with the energy she pulled from the layers of the world, and then forged an almost visible connection between Tallak and Juneau. Tallak jerked and gasped, Juneau’s unconscious body twitched, and in the next instant, a flash of light ran from him to her as if pulled on an invisible thread. Tallak cried out, jolting, and then fell to his knees. Juneau bucked, her lids fluttering.
Quickly now.
“Is it gone?” Hazel asked Tallak. “Her magic, is it gone?”
Breath heavy, he stared at her out of eyes shining with awe. “Yes. You ripped it out of me.”
“Good. Now get out of the circle.”
He jumped to his feet and moved away.
