“Holly, are you sure this is the only way?” Cassia asked, stepping forward to stand before the altar, gesturing toward the four desks.

“Mother,” Holly began, “if there’s another way, I haven’t found it. I’ve scoured nearly every text we have here. It’s likely already too late. I can feel him drawing near, and I know you feel it, too. I’m just not strong enough on my own.” She placed a protective hand over the book.

Cassia’s eyes flickered with concern. “I just thought… I thought there would be more time, that you would have more time.”

“We’re out of time. And besides, don’t you think you deserve to rest? If we fail, we put the girls in danger. Their time and my turn have come,” Holly replied firmly.

“You know where I stand. Those four should have started training years ago!”

“I raised them as best I could. I wanted my daughters to have a normal life.”

“In this town? They are not normal. We are not normal. They have a heritage and destiny they know nothing about!”

“Mother, we don’t have time for this,” Holly said, her voice tense.

Cassia sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “You’re right, of course. I apologize. At least let me help you with this work. We will hold the evil one back as best we can.”

“Thank you, Mother. It feels like my magic is getting weaker as he grows stronger,” Holly admitted, her eyes misting over.

“His tricks have never succeeded in two hundred years. He won’t succeed now. Well, alright then. Shall we?” Cassia said, opening her palms toward the book Holly had chosen.

“Athame, wand, drum, and cauldron,” they intoned in unison. A knife, a gnarled wooden branch, a small drum, and a cast-iron pot appeared, floating in midair.

“Did you bring the herbs? You always forget the herbs,” Cassia chided.

“I have them right here, Mother.” Holly fumbled in her robe’s pocket, retrieving a small envelope. She laid it down on the book, pursing her lips as she looked up at her mother. “See?”

“Yes, yes. Carry on,” Cassia said with a dismissive wave.

Holly grabbed the drum, tapping it three times before turning her attention to the wand. She picked it up and waved it back and forth over the envelope before opening it. Pungent odors wafted up to her nose, nearly making her sneeze. Cassia made a shushing sound, narrowing her eyes.

“Not to worry, nothing could awaken them right now. I’ve mastered all your tricks, Mother,” Holly murmured.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“You were quite the spirited child and a spitfire teenager! I was simply being a good mother,” Cassia retorted.

Holly rolled her eyes and poured the envelope’s contents into the cauldron before picking up the athame. She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, then ran the knife through the palm of her right hand. Cassia looked away as the lights in the room flickered on and off.

“I’m okay. You never could stand the sight of blood. We both know it will take more than this little nick to do me in,” Holly chuckled.

Thick red liquid began to pool in her palm. She squeezed her hand tight, holding it over the mini cauldron, and let a generous amount of blood spill onto the herbs.

“Damn it! That part hurts like hell every time!” she hissed as Cassia sighed. Holly waved her uninjured hand in the air, and a piece of red cloth appeared. She immediately used it to wrap around the gash in her hand.

Her breathing became heavy and labored as she and Cassia began chanting.

“Seasons change. What begins must end. What was one shall be no more. The gift given shall now become four.”

They chanted the words nine times, and when they finished, thick smoke rose from the cauldron. For a moment, Holly’s eyes changed from brown to smoky gray and back again. She then ripped the page from the book, folded it into a small square, and placed it on her tongue.

It dissolved just before she swallowed, and she tore the bandage from her hand. The blood inside the cauldron began to rise, and as it hovered above the cauldron, the thick liquid formed an ancient-looking key that slowly moved to enter the wound on her palm.

As the key entered her hand, it began to glow—first blue, then red, followed by yellow and green—before the wound closed, leaving her hand unmarked. Both women looked toward the desks, where the triangles had each taken on one of the colors that had glowed from the key.

The lights in the room dimmed, leaving Holly in darkness for a few moments as she stared into the void.

“Mother?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you—for everything. You really are an amazing mother.”

“Despite thinking my granddaughters should have been trained, you should know I think you did a wonderful job with them.”

“What I had hoped for never became a reality. My girls are split, likely forever. I always wanted them to be closer than Ginger, Basil, Anise, and I were, you know?” Holly sighed.

“We all do the best we can. And you never know; Pepper and Poppy might just surprise you. Sage and Penny have such a strong and unbreakable bond.”

“Anise and I once also had a bond that I thought was unshakable! It just feels like history is repeating itself,” Holly hissed.

“Although it can feel that way, we both know that every moment is new. I love you, but I must go, my darling,” Cassia said as she slowly disappeared into the darkness.

“Well, it’s done now. What happens next is in the hands of the Universe. I have to make peace with that,” Holly whispered into the darkness.

The lights flickered, then settled, giving the room a softer amber glow. The altar and the book had vanished. The athame, wand, drum, and cauldron had moved to the desks with markings corresponding to their elements.

Each desktop now held a worn brown book with a large gold calligraphy letter on the cover. Three books bore a “P,” and one had an “S.” Potted plants sat on each desk—sage, pennyroyal, peppers, and poppies.

“All is as it should be for now,” Holly muttered, standing as tall as she could. She pulled her shoulders back and pointed toward the wall that had been her entryway into the room. As soon as the door appeared, it creaked open.

Holly emerged to find Gypsy still perched on one of the kitchen chairs. She squeezed her palm, then opened it wide.

“Shine,” she said, just above a whisper, and the small ball of light returned. She held the ball out and took a quick survey of the room. The clock on the wall read three o’clock.

“The witching hour for sure.” She smiled weakly before turning her attention to the opening in the wall. She bowed her head toward the room, and the house shook before the opening vanished and the spice rack returned.

“It’s done, my friend,” she murmured to Gypsy, who responded with a deep meow. “I know you miss Mother’s physical presence, but I know you can feel her.”

Holly lifted the cat, tucked her under her arm, and ascended the stairs. When she reached the top, she said, “Desino,” and the birdsongs instantly ceased. She stared down the hall at the four doors and sighed before making her way back downstairs to her room. Once inside, Gypsy hopped out of her arm and curled up on the plush armchair in the corner.

“Everything is going to be okay,” Holly said as a single tear rolled down her face. Gypsy covered her head with her paw as the walls groaned and the radiator whistled. “Goodnight, Mother. See you soon.”