Asclepius, Isis, Thor, andBrigidare all asked for their help in healing through this difficult time.
Once I’ve quietly talked to the many deities I believe in and gathered what I need for the ceremony, I put on my mask and exit the altar room, my supplies in hand.
In the living space, I find Cain already in his robe and mask. He’s leaning against one of the walls, and he cuts an imposing figure with his height and build. There are only lamps burning, and the low, flickering light in the room adds to the building sense of magic.
Malachi joins us—also in his mask and robe—and we wait for Ophelia. As the minutes tick by, I worry that she’s freaking out and wonder if I should go to her, but then I hear light footsteps on the stairs.
She walks into the room like a fucking vision. She’s wearing a light blue dress, so pale it’s diaphanous, and underneath, nothing. I can see her nipples, already erect, and the dark shadow of her pussy.
My mouth waters, but I tamp down my desire. I need to be in control for this to work. We all need to be in control and not let things get out of hand… or at least not until we reach the peak of the ritual.
Her hair cascades past her shoulders to her waist, and she’s wearing no makeup except for what looks like lip gloss, or maybe balm. She doesn’t need it. With the spots of color turning her cheeks pink, she’s a vision.
“You’re beautiful,” Cain says, his voice low and rough.
“Thank you.” She clasps her hands in front of her, staring around at the three of us. “So, what do we do now?”
“We head to the clearing, the one a few minutes’ walk from here. Then we can begin the ceremony,” I state. “I already prepared a fire, so we just need to light it.”
She raises her eyebrows. “We need a fire?”
“Yes, for me to prepare the tincture.”
“Couldn’t you have done that before?” Malachi asks from behind his mask. “I saw you grinding stuff.”
“I got the herbs ready, but as for the tincture, we must do it when the blood is fresh.”
We move toward the door, but I pause. “Wait.” I grab a long coat and put it around Ophelia’s shoulders. “Wear this for now. I don’t want you catching your death.”
I’ve got a blanket already at the spot we’ll be using for the ritual. It’s thick and warm and is draped over a tree branch. I checked the weather app, and it’s going to remain cool but dry, and best of all, no wind. I don’t want Ophelia getting cold.
She gratefully clutches the coat around her and holds it tight at her throat.
Walking through the woods, we are all silent, and the sounds of the night cover us like a cloak. Twigs crack as small creatures scurry around us. An owl hoots, and I pause as, in the distance, a coyote makes the familiar, high-pitched yipping sound.
“There are bears in the Adirondacks, right?” Ophelia asks nervously.
“Yes, but there’s never been any seen within the college boundaries,” I reply. “Don’t worry, there aren’t any bears near us.”
“And if there are, I have my gun.” Cain taps his waist.
I glance at him. “You do?”
“After what we’ve been through, you think I’d go anywhere without it? I’ll put it close by when we begin the ceremony.”
In a way, he’s not wrong, but it also shows me how traumatized he still is from all this. There’s plenty of security at the college.
I smile to myself as I recall the guard’s face when I dropped him a few hundred dollars to make sure the drones don’t fly near our tower for a few hours this evening, the way I always do if we’re planning a ritual. He’d known we were up to outdoor sex, for sure. He won’t have guessed the rest of it. Or, maybe, he will. After all, our reputation precedes us.
We arrive in the clearing and, as I glance at my two friends—Mal in his smooth white mask, and Cain with the black hood over his head—my heart rate speeds up. This is so like the first time we all took Ophelia, except this time there won’t be any chasing.
I’ve set everything up at the base of an American mountain ash, since they are good for protection, in my opinion. It will provide us with the safety we need to carry out this deeply meaningful ritual.
Setting my bowl down on the ground, I begin to take out the small packets I had filled with the herbs we need from the internal pocket in my robe. Slowly, I empty them into the bowl I brought with me.
As I empty each herb, I ask for its help. Mugwort, camomile, lavender, and liquorice, too. Along with hawthorn for healing and moving on from past personal boundary infringements, which we’ve all dealt with to one degree or another. The hawthorn helps people process pain and move through it, too.
I mix the herbs in the bowl and add water from the bottle I had placed here earlier. Once I have a thick paste, I transfer the contents into the iron pot sitting by the fire stack.
