“Now girl, you must understand that I don’t usually do this sort of thing,” the old woman says gravely, “But, seeing as you are so upset,” She gestures towards the girl’s tears, “I feel obliged.”

The girl wipes her eyes, “Thank you, Hecate.”

“Don’t bother,” Hecate says as she begins assembling the materials necessary for the girl’s journey, her long white hair braided with bones and stems. Hecate turns and smiles at the girl, the dirt clearly visible between her wrinkles and teeth.

Once the items required are in the girl’s bag, she turns to Hecate.

“For the agreement, what do you need me to do?” She says.

“Come and stand under this sigil,” Hecate points to the seemingly random array of scribbles on the ceiling of her cabin. The girl walks to the sigil and closes her eyes, inhaling deeply.

“How long will I have?” The girl asks.

“Until you die,” Hecate reassures the girl as her eyes begin to glow red.


The half-moon has come and the girl, Callie, has assembled the ingredients given to her by Hecate to perform the spell. She must wait until the moment when the trees begin to illuminate to set the ingredients on fire.

Callie sits back, focusing hard to suppress her memories. A little over a month ago she was fighting alongside Fendrel, her eternal love, in the elf war. Before Callie could warn him, Fendrel had been struck by a troll and died. For weeks now Callie has been searching for anything that could bring him back.

She sees the beginning of the tree illumination and strikes her match.

“Here I come, my love,” she says, dropping the match. The bowl explodes in fire and engulfs her, but the flames are not hot and do not burn Callie’s pale blue skin.

Suddenly, the fire implodes and disappears. Callie is alone in a new world of green and black shadows. She shivers; the imposing death around her makes her skin crawl and her hair stand on end. Moaning can be heard in the distance, as well as screams of lamentation. Her nose fills with the smell of decay.

“Fendrel?” She calls out and drawing his spirit to her. The air begins to grow colder, if possible, and soon enough there he is, standing in front of her.

“Callie?” He says, tilting his head the way he always did when he was confused.

Callie feels hot tears sliding down her cheeks, “My love!”

“You shouldn’t have come,” Fendrel says, his eyes growing black as all elves do when angry.

Callie feels his words cut through her like a knife as the floor opens up and she falls, hitting the ground hard.

“Welcome Callie,” says a woman with white hair braided with bones and stems.

“Hecate?” Callie panics as chains spring up from around her and snap shut on her wrists, ankles and neck.

“Foolish girl,” Hecate chides, “You didn’t really think I would wait till you died to take and own your soul, did you?”