"Thanks," Sarah murmured to the taxi driver as she exited the car, her expression betraying a twinge of regret at the parting of another 150 pounds.
The driver, seemingly indifferent to her discomfort, nodded curtly and drove off, content with the hefty fare he had earned.
Now 300 pounds lighter and with an ancient tome added to her backpack's contents, Sarah approached the inn recommended by the driver. Under different circumstances, she might have opted to save money by spending the night on the bus. However, the newly acquired book, likely her grandmother's grimoire, demanded privacy for inspection. She had no opportunity to explore its contents earlier, having rushed to meet the taxi driver.
Despite her previous disinterest in family traditions, Sarah couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility towards the grimoire. It was, perhaps, the last vestige of her elder and a significant part of her heritage. With the whereabouts of her mother and brother unknown, she might be the only one left to carry on this legacy.
Approaching the inn's reception, Sarah steeled herself for another expense. "Evening. May I get a room, please?" she asked, her voice carrying a practiced politeness.
The woman behind the counter, dressed plainly and sporting a stern expression that fit her years, gave Sarah a cursory look. A forced smile briefly crossed her features as she responded, "Sure, dearie. En suite or shared bath?" She gestured towards the list of prices displayed on the wall.
Sarah quickly weighed her options – £14 for a common room or £22 for the en suite. Reluctantly, she opted for the en suite, reasoning that the extra privacy was worth the cost given the uncertainty of whether her face was already circulating on the internet.
The innkeeper's lack of enthusiasm was palpable as she sluggishly handed over the key. Sarah offered a polite "Thank you," nonetheless, and made her way to her room. She briefly wondered if this less-than-stellar accommodation was the taxi driver's subtle revenge for her delayed arrival. Regardless, the innkeeper's indifference suited her just fine; the less interaction, the better.
Once inside her room, Sarah could finally relax. The past day had been a turmoil of fear, stress, and a plethora of emotions she wasn't ready to unpack. After a much-needed shower, sleep was her only relief. The grimoire would have to wait until she felt somewhat alive again.
Sleep enveloped her faster than anticipated, her body succumbing to exhaustion before she could even tuck herself in properly. When she next opened her eyes, morning light filtered through the curtains. Glancing at the wristwatch she had purchased, she noted it was not yet 6 a.m. The thought of more sleep tempted her, but the unexplored grimoire nudged at her consciousness.
With a groan, Sarah stretched lazily and reached for her backpack, still nestled beside her on the bed. There was no rush to leave the comfort of her covers just yet. She carefully extracted the ancient book, disregarding the dust that sprinkled onto the sheets, and began to examine it.
The grimoire's dark brown cover was exactly what one would expect from such an artifact – aged and covered in mystique. The back cover was bare, while the front featured only a single sigil at its center. Opening the book, she was met with blank pages, which was expected due to its unbound state. The grimoire's secrets would remain inaccessible until it was properly bound to its new guardian. For now, it was just an enigmatic relic in her hands, waiting to reveal its hidden knowledge.
Sarah delved into her backpack, retrieving the old pendant that would facilitate the grimoire's binding. She couldn't help but wonder if her grandmother had deliberately left it for her to find. The old woman, often shrouded in an aura of mystery and wisdom, had a knack for foreseeing events. Sarah recalled how her brother, Nick, once half-jokingly questioned if their grandmother possessed foresight, only to be met with laughter from the granny. The elder had dismissed it as nothing more than the insights gained from a lifetime of experiences.
Lost momentarily in these reflections, Sarah eventually forced herself out of bed. The task at hand was straightforward but challenging. Even as someone who had drifted from her family's traditions, she knew the ritual of binding a grimoire by heart.
First, she drew a circle on the floor, then a smaller one inside it, representing the source. This time, she drew two arrows emanating from the smaller circle, one pointing towards herself and the other towards the grimoire. Regrettably, her blood was still the necessary source, so she used the knife from her grandmother's house to make a small cut on her finger, letting a few drops fall into the circle.
The pendant, once belonging to her grandmother, served as an ideal medium. Sarah placed it carefully beside the smaller circle. Then came the sigil – Bind. She visualized the pattern before painting it on the ground. The design was a series of interlocked rings, formed by a braided rope, symbolizing connection, unity, and permanence. The smoothness and continuity of each stroke were crucial, embodying the stability and endurance of the bond being forged.
Binding a grimoire, especially one belonging to another witch, was allegedly a formidable task without explicit permission. However, the process was significantly eased when the parties shared the same bloodline. Sarah suspected her grandmother had prearranged the grimoire for a smooth transition of ownership. So, when the book began to emit a soft glow and Sarah felt a tangible connection form between them, she was more relieved than astonished. The legacy of her lineage was now, quite literally, in her hands.
With the book now bound to her, Sarah felt an inexplicable trepidation at the prospect of opening it. It was as if crossing this threshold would mark a point of no return. However, what could be more frightening than the reality she was already facing – being hunted, the uncertainty about her family's safety, and the isolation from the world she once knew?
Gathering her courage, Sarah held the grimoire with reverence and slowly turned to the first page. There, in place of a title, was a letter in her grandmother's familiar handwriting, gently overlaying the words 'Elderwood Grimoire'.
Hesitating, she took a deep breath, bracing herself for the words that would bridge the gap between her past and her present.
'My dear Sarah,
If this letter finds its way to your eyes, it means old granny can't be there to see you scrunch your nose at me dodgy squab pie no more. Don't you fret now, my flower. The river runs its course, and what's meant to be will always find its way.
Your mum did her best, bless her, trying to keep you clear of our old ways, hoping to spare you the shadows and fears that come with our kind. But the storm we've long dreaded is upon us now, and it's caught you up, hasn't it?
Let granny tell you our story. Our line, Sarah, it's old as the hills and once powerful enough to bend kings' ears. Wars waited on our word, and no ship set sail without our say-so. But then came the conquerors, fearing us, knowing well that as long as our breath mingled with the wind, the soil of our land wouldn't bow to foreign boots. So they branded us as devils, hunting us till we vanished into whispers and shadows. Yet, like the stubborn roots of the oldest tree, our craft survived, whispered from one generation to the next.
I know you, my bright girl, with your head full of gears, might think our ways are nothing but old wives' tales. But what you've seen, what you've been told, it's but a grain of sand in the desert of all there is to know. Your mum, she had her reasons for stepping away from our path, leaving you without knowing that was your due.
But don't just take the word of your daft old gran. They've come for us, love. It's proof, clear as day, that what we possess is more precious than any of the things they own. Oh, they've got their grand industries and all those fancy machines, but those will only carry 'em so far. Our power, though, stretches beyond the reach of their understanding.
You've got a journey ahead, my girl, a path that's yours and yours alone to tread. With a heart both heavy and hopeful, I'm entrusting you with our family's Grimoire. The duty of carrying our legacy forward, of being the custodian for the generations yet to come, it's yours now, Sarah Elderwood. And with it, I'm bestowing upon you the title of Grand Witch of Britain. May you shine ever bright, guiding our people into the future. It's no small burden, this I know, but you've got the mettle, and in time, you'll see the strength within yourself.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
I wish I could be there, passing down the wisdom, just like my mother did for me. But what's written in the Grimoire, it's all I've come to learn, all our family has safeguarded through generations. Never forget, my little flower, you're loved fiercely and dearly.
With all my love and a sprinkle of hope,
Granny
P.S.: Don't worry about where to read the Grimoire. It's enchanted with a glamour sigil. To any prying eyes, it'll appear as nothing more than a common book, unless you wish otherwise.
I've got this feeling, Sarah, deep in my bones, that your sharp mind and inquisitive spirit will breathe new life into our craft.'
As Sarah reached the end of the letter, her cheeks were damp with tears. The pain in her heart was overwhelming, each word a confirmation of what she feared most – they were gone, perhaps forever. Her grandmother's letter was a farewell, and if there was one thing Sarah knew, it was that her grandmother seldom made mistakes in her predictions.
Maybe she had underestimated their traditions. She had always assumed their practices would be dismissed as folklore, never imagining their ancient arts would draw the attention of the powerful. Was it possible she had been ignorant of the true power of their craft? With the Grimoire now in her hands, Sarah realized it was time to uncover the depths of her heritage, to embrace the legacy that was now hers to protect and pass on.
With little time to dwell on her sorrow, Sarah channeled her emotions into comprehending her family's traditions and planning her escape. The early morning hours provided the perfect opportunity to delve into the Grimoire. Turning the first page, she was greeted by a section of instructions that resonated with her modern, tech-savvy sensibilities. The introduction was unexpectedly pragmatic, far from the stereotype of archaic practices.
The Grimoire wasn't organized in a conventional manner. Instead, it responded to the reader's specific inquiries, presenting sigils and circles relevant to their questions. This feature was both a boon and a challenge. On one hand, it would simplify her research, directly presenting the required information. On the other hand, it limited her exploration, concealing aspects of the craft that she might not know to seek out. Moreover, the book was designed to withhold advanced-level sigils from beginners, ensuring a gradual learning curve but also restricting access to potentially crucial knowledge.
Another fascinating aspect was the Grimoire's adaptive translation. It presented its contents in the reader's language, using familiar terms and avoiding any terminology misunderstanding. This feature seemed like an advanced 'interface' extension, enhancing the user experience significantly.
Regarding the book with renewed interest, Sarah was excited by the prospect of discovering new sigils. However, the book's interaction was query-based, demanding a clear understanding of her needs. She pondered what she required most urgently. As a fugitive, any knowledge that could aid in concealment or evasion would be invaluable. Nevertheless, pinpointing the most practical and plausible queries proved challenging to her wandering mind.
As Sarah sifted through her ideas, she landed on one that seemed particularly viable. Focusing intently, she placed her hand on the Grimoire and requested a sigil that could help conceal her identity. The previously blank page began to morph, with inky black marks swirling into coherent letters and sentences, eventually revealing the 'Hazy’ sigil.
The Hazy sigil, designed to be used within a basic circle, created a blurring effect on its target. It could be applied to small areas, objects, written information, or even to obscure a person's appearance. To an observer, the blurred target would appear unremarkable and indistinct, rendering recognition impossible. However, the spell wasn't perfect; prolonged, focused observation could dispel the illusion.
Sarah was shocked by the potential of the sigil. It was exactly what she needed. Reluctantly, she had to admit that the craft was far more practical and powerful than she had ever given it credit for. The duration of the sigil's effect varied, lasting anywhere from a few hours to a full day, depending on the witch's skill. Thankfully, the Grimoire explained that the caster would sense when the effect was fading.
Eager to test the sigil, Sarah set about clearing the previous circle to prepare for the new one. She was pleased with herself for choosing the en suite room – how else would she manage these rituals without drawing attention?
Gathering the necessary materials required a quick trip outside her room. She dressed and headed downstairs, where she encountered a receptionist with a loose ponytail manning the desk. The clerk informed her that breakfast was still being prepared, but Sarah politely explained her need to find an open convenience or grocery store. The young woman at the desk offered a nod, her curiosity piqued but unvoiced.
The receptionist, relieved that Sarah's request wouldn't cause any inconvenience, helpfully directed her to a 24/7 store just two streets to the left. Sarah expressed her gratitude and hurried off, reaching the store in just ten minutes. Inside, she bypassed the aisles, heading straight to the cashier to inquire about compact powder with a mirror or a handheld mirror. The middle-aged cashier, without much ado, gestured towards a section near his counter.
Sarah quickly selected a modestly priced compact powder with a mirror for four pounds and made her way back to the inn. Once in her room, she secured the door and settled down with the Grimoire, eager to begin her craft. She started by drawing the main circle, followed by a smaller one for the source, from which she extended an arrow towards herself.
This time, the source required more than just her blood. Sarah understood that spells with tangible effects often required additional components. According to the Grimoire, crystal powder was ideal for such a sigil, but a footnote suggested an alternative: tiny pieces of broken mirror mixed with some powder.
With a sense of purpose, Sarah disassembled the mirror from the compact powder case, wrapping it in a cloth usually meant for covering furniture. She then repeatedly struck it with a doorstop stone, ensuring it was thoroughly shattered. Checking to confirm she had achieved the desired consistency, she carefully funneled the tiny glass fragments into the powder case, blending them meticulously with the back of a pen until they were fully integrated.
She carefully placed the concoction of mirror powder and a drop of her blood into the source circle, followed by the old pendant as the medium. She then turned her attention to the Hazy sigil. At first glance, the sigil seemed simple enough, resembling an eye. However, upon closer inspection, she realized its complexity lay in the subtlety of its strokes – they needed to be gentle and faint, almost as though they were vanishing into thin air. The actual shape was somewhat flexible, provided it maintained a misleading appearance through perspective.
Opting for caution, Sarah practiced drawing the sigil on some note paper several times before committing it to the circle. When she finally completed the design, the circle momentarily glowed, then the light converged into the source circle. The glowing glassy mix rose, floating towards her face in a mesmerizing dance of magic. Sarah instinctively recoiled, fearing the sharp edges of the mirror shards, but they proceeded and formed a layer over her face, harmlessly and seamlessly. As quickly as it appeared, the glow faded, leaving no visible trace.
Curious and slightly apprehensive, Sarah rushed to the bathroom mirror. "Goddess bless!" she exclaimed, taken aback. Her features were completely veiled by an unseen force, but, strangely, it felt disturbingly normal. Her mind insisted she was looking at an ordinary face, even though she knew it was anything but.
Tentatively touching her face and feeling nothing out of the ordinary, she focused on the mirrored mask for close to a minute, then suddenly her normal face greeted her as if it had always been there. A brief turn away from the mirror, and when she looked back, the upsetting hazy effect resumed, startling her once more.
Back on the bed, still processing the surreal experience, Sarah understood how the sigil worked. It made her uneasy, but it was clear that the magic would cause others to overlook her appearance, treating her face as inconsequential unless they concentrated on it for a prolonged period. It was an eerie sensation, but undoubtedly an effective disguise. The only uncertainty now was the duration of the effect.
Feeling a cautious sense of triumph, Sarah recalled the Grimoire's description and closed her eyes, tuning into the subtle sensation of the craft at work. She sensed a stable presence, an indication that the sigil was active and functioning as intended. Knowing the specifics of the spell would be crucial before she dared to venture beyond the country's borders. Considering the risks of travel, she decided to extend her stay at the inn by another day, giving herself time to fully prepare.
Both curious and cautious, Sarah packed her belongings into her backpack, planning to test the sigil's effectiveness among the inn's guests during breakfast. She was ready to flee at a moment's notice, should the spell fail and draw unwanted attention.
Stepping into the dining area, Sarah greeted the receptionist in a deliberately casual manner, her eyes searching for any sign of recognition or odd reaction. To her relief, the woman merely acknowledged her presence with a cursory glance, confirming that breakfast was ready. Sarah's tension eased slightly as she helped herself to pastries and fruit, choosing a secluded table in the corner.
Throughout her meal, she kept a vigilant eye on the room's other occupants – a couple and a young man – but none of them showed any indication of noticing the spell's effect. With each passing moment of normalcy, Sarah's confidence grew.
For her final test, she approached the reception counter to request an extension on her room reservation. The clerk and Sarah locked eyes for a few tense seconds. But, even during this direct interaction, the clerk's demeanor remained unchanged, void of any adverse reaction.
Overjoyed by the success of her experiment, Sarah retreated to her room. The spell had worked seamlessly, offering her the anonymity she desperately needed. Now, it was time to strategize and prepare.