#narrie

A gentle tapping echoed through her cozy attic room and was followed by a groan from her door, slender fingertips releasing her pen before looking up to see her father in the doorway. No words came, just a nod of his head and the young witch knew it was time to leave. The two had more than enough preparation to do before they could actually begin and both wanted to arrive before the fellow witches filed in to help. She quickly closed her journal, grabbed for her coat and backpack, then proceed behind him down the hall. A car would be taking them tonight, although Helena preferred to bike the four miles with the cold wind, but protocols were in full effect. They couldn’t risk these final moments for anything and they were briskly swept into the vehicle as if they had never touched the street. An illusion. No trace could be linked back to them, acting as fragments and apparitions with each advance until they were safely in the Ouroboros Headquarters.

Susannah met them in the entryway as Helena took her and Anton’s jacket, listening intently to the phoenix give an update on what was still left to be done. It seemed as though they were much further along than Anton had originally planned, a bittersweet emotion crawling up Helena’s throat at the idea of it only being moments away. Change, a quality that the young witch was used to when it came to their work, but even the build up of her personal power mattered and she drew in a long breath. This would be the true test of her taking on a different focus within her dark magic abilities and not just relying on sacrificial offerings, but also maneuvering the spirits gallantly into their new homes— two beautifully engraved daggers. 

Once Susannah was just out of earshot, she tugged on the loose sleeve of her father and did her best to remain poise. “I know you explained it already,” sapphire’s hastily looking to him, just a child behind a thin layer of courage and entrusting in the bigger picture he had painted, “It’s just that, what if the side effects are more extreme than we have prepared for.”  Hadn’t she lost more than enough and the burden on the innocent lives that seemed to keep stacking up still felt imprisoning. Was this really the path that her own mother would have approved of? Snippets of her voice cracking as Helena continued, “Please promise me that you won’t push yourself too far.”

Stoic and undaunted, yet Anton’s eyes flashed praise and Helena wondered if he had just seen flecks of Tillie in her expression, “Hells. Our family, our organization has been moving towards this goal for centuries. Everyone has sacrificed so much in order to get here and now, the risks we have all taken. All that time we have been preparing— trust in your ancestors, trust in me.” She nodded instantly at the angelic quality to his speech, finding herself unusually captivated and self-assured once more, “I’m ready.”

They entered the library and Helena almost couldn’t recognize the display. All the usual tables and chairs had been moved out, giving it a haunting and barren look. Books that had once littered the floors had also made their way into proper shelving and revealed more of the wood flooring, showing clearly the start of a salt ring. Other witches had begun to energize the room, lemongrass and rosemary smoke hitting her in the face as she moved towards the center. She touched the pages of the grimoire and peered over the spell, not as though she really needed a refresher but she muttered to herself anyway. Every phrase would need to be spoken clearly, yet another risk and chance for anything to go completely wrong. Within moments, the room lights dimmed and the hearth became the main source of luster. Another deep breath, body guiding itself into place while her mind composed and collected. One last invocation before looking to her father, eyes steady and resolute.