petals

She fingered the black rose delicately, unsure. The small note lay on the small wooden table beside her, the scarlet words repeating themselves in her thoughts.

Oh how she was confused; and she was not supposed to be. She who had the power of both Dark and Light, a trait considered rare amongst all those who practice the Craft. She had the power to have glimpses of both Past and Future, yet she was here now, lost in the Present. After all, there was a warlock that she told herself she loved, and her heart was torn.

Sandra stood up and went to the pot that was left over a fire that had burnt itself out. Emptying its contents outside, she went to a nearby spring with just the light of the full moon as her guide, and filled the pot nearly to the brim with water. Relighting the fire with just a whisper and some firewood, she put the water to a boil, and got the black rose.

One by one she plucked the petals off and threw them into the pot, the water slowly turning ebony. Next came the letter, torn into pieces, the ink bleeding into the ebony mixture. Last came a strand of her own hair, another sealing pact, yet lesser than her blood.

She asked the Goddess for a sign.

She got an answer.