Cerise poured a steady stream of salt from the cardboard Morton canister, the crystals sparkling in the candlelight, to trace out a large circle on the wooden floor of her study. It was midnight, the kids were in bed, and breakfast oats were in the Crock-Pot. She completed the circle that now surrounded and sealed her in the center. Her raven-black hair veiled forward as she bent to pick up a single lighted taper from the center of the circle, then walked to the northernmost point and lit a short, fat beeswax candle that rested in a silver bowl. She murmured,

“By waxing moon, a growing light,

Silver warm and heed my plight.”

She traversed the circle to the easternmost point and bent over to light the next candle fixed in the center of an octagonal copper trivet.

“Daybreak promised in the morn,

Reveal the light through copper warm.”

Next, she lit the taper on the southernmost candle affixed in a bronze candle holder she had found at a garage sale.

“Sun at zenith powerful sight,

Bronze warm and strengthen might.”

At the westernmost point, the last candle was set on a small golden charger—one of her most valued possessions, even if only gold plated. Her mother had gifted it to her years ago for just this purpose. She lit the final wick and invoked the last quarter.

“Setting sun at end of day,

Gold warm and battle for the Way.”

Cerise returned to the center of the circle, sat cross-legged on the floor, the taper in front of her, pulled her hair behind her head, and tied it back with one of her daughter’s scrunchies. She closed her eyes and took several deep cleansing breaths to settle her emotions. Clearing her mind, she focused on positive energy and intentions as she sifted through the memories of the fight with her husband, Brad, last week. She acknowledged the pain of his rejection, his ugly words, and his condemnation of her magical empowerment. He had threatened her and promised retribution from the entire town if she did not abandon her powers and the local magical community.

As if she could give up her empowerment.

The house creaked in rhythm to her boiling emotions.

Earth magic was an integral part of her soul, not a toy that could be discarded on a whim. She was a leader of the Haven, the local community of empowered believers, and helped to guide and perform the seasonal rituals. Brad had come to the celebrations with her for years, but only as a spectator. He had not an ounce of magic in him. He now spent more time at work and the corner bar than with her and the kids, and last week had come home drunk and shouting.

“Cerise . . . you gotta stop this blasphemy you call magic! It’s not real . . . you’re leading the children down a dangerous path.” He paused, his face twisted in fury. “You and your friends are nothing but fakes and charlatans. You are the reason our town is failing. Times are changing and the city council won’t put up with your hocus pocus any longer. I’ll see to that! If you don’t quit, we’ll run you out of town!” He had struck her across the face, the force sending her to the floor, before throwing his clothes in a suitcase and storming out.

She still bore the bruise of his abuse on her right cheek.

The walls began to vibrate, a portent of the suppressed violence that seethed within her soul. “So easy . . . so easy to take vengeance,” whispered that dark corner of her mind. “Destroy them first,” the sinister voice continued. “Make them pay for not believing in the powers you possess. Show them the might and righteousness you wield in your fingertips.” Small sparks blazed in her eyes, now filled with anger.

“Hold, child,” said another voice, gentle, filled with compassion. The words of the Goddess, always her North Star, echoed in her mind. “As a true follower of the Mother, you have never turned to the dark. Do not do so now. I command you to stand down. Your strength and power will be needed to combat the rising evil around you all too soon. Do not sink into the tempting siren song of darkness. Rise above the hate. Reject vengeance, for that is the burden of the Father. You are committed to the Light, my child. Follow the Mother’s path.”

With painful slowness Cerise battled to control the roiling darkness in the corner of her soul. Always there. Always tempting her to lose control, to lash out at those who meant her and her kind nothing but ill will. The walls stopped vibrating; the creaking of the house returned to the usual noises of an old farmhouse in the middle of the night. The sparks in Cerise’s eyes went out, the anger abated.

More deep breaths steadied her hand as she placed a bundle of dried sage and juniper tied with cotton string by the taper. Out of the bag at her side, she grabbed handfuls of fresh sage leaves, rosemary, and lavender sprigs she had harvested this morning from the garden and strewed them around her, the aroma of fresh herbs a reminder of the power of the Light. She took the dried herbal bundle and lit the end, waving it around her to spread the smoke, before she placed it on an old glass ashtray from her grandmother, sentimental but essentially useless since no one smoked cigarettes in this family anymore.

Once again, she carefully set her intentions. She eliminated her fear, cleansed her mind of negative thoughts, and clung to all the positive energy she could conjure: the love of her children, the support of her community, and most of all her deep belief in the unseen powers that ruled the sun and moon, the tides and seasons.

“Mother, Father, rulers of all,

Cleanse my soul of pain and hate,

Ease the grief of love lost and gone,

Renew my heart and heal this wound.

Release all vengeful thoughts from me,

Redeem my soul and leave pristine.”

Inhaling the fragrant herbal smoke, Cerise allowed her mind to float. She had no more tears and would face the trial of single motherhood with strength and grace. A smile flitted across her lips. Her children were empowered, a fact she had never confided to her husband. They had not yet come into their powers, but she could feel the spark of magic growing within them.

The center taper burned down to a nubbin and sputtered.

It was time to move forward, time to plan.