DE INFORMACIÓN POR ACCIÓN PRO FORMA E HISTÓRICA

We have done it! Oh, it has taken twelve years, but at last we have done it! We have found them. Oh, blessed Mother be praised.

I could not stand one more day in that scabrous convent, or the disgusting pawing of one more “holy” priest. It was decided amongst us at the start that we would dress as nuns, going from convent to church and shrine, hoping the damned Gabrielites would have left some sign somewhere as to the location of Eloine’s stolen babes. It was Maria who found the clue.

She had journeyed to an obscure shrine, near a collection of cottages too small to be called a village or anything for that matter. A local carver of wood mistook her for someone else, and proudly showed her the letter blocks that he had made to order, as well as two magnificent dolls, one male, the other female. He was a skilled artisan, and she thanked him most kindly, but said that she had other business to attend to that day. He would be paid most handsomely if he could deliver the goods in person. The artisan agreed and she bid him farewell. Then, calling upon her Arts, she hid herself from sight and waited to follow him. She was curious as to why he would think a nun would be sent to pick up costly children’s toys.

Eventually, the man left his hut and traveled several miles into the countryside to a small villa, very old with thick walls far up on the hillside. As she drew closer, she found herself working through complex wards and she grew more and more excited. These wards were designed to warn those inside of the ap- proach of other willworkers, such as ourselves, and not ordinary men and women. They, apparently, could come and go as they pleased.

She did not approach the villa itself, but instead circled around into the gardens. There she was over- come with joy. For under the watchful eye of a gray-haired priest, two children played, a boy and a girl of perfect beauty. She said later that there was no doubting they were Eloine’s twins, but knowing Maria I am sure she thoroughly questioned her senses. None- theless, what she saw was convincing. Both had hair colored with the red of their mother, lightened by the gold of their father into a russet dawn. Their skin had

the glow of the Italian sun, and just a hint of golden freckles. They were in that brief last moment of child- hood, before the winds of change would make them man and maid. Maria recalls that she watched for an hour, with her earthly eyes and also with the aid of her Art. Any doubts she may have had at the beginning were dispelled by the fact that they never once spoke to each other, but rather had the silent communion of those talented in the magicks of the mind. The whole time, the priest was taking note of their behavior and recording his observations in a small leather book.

Towards noon the priest stepped away to relieve himself behind some bushes. Using her inner voice, Maria called to the children, and they came to her with no fear in their hearts. She asked if they were happy living at the villa with the priests, but they were not sure what happy meant. Next she asked if they knew who their parents were, but they had been told not to ask, as their parents had committed great and terrible sins. Holding her anger for the priests at bay, she told them that their mother was one of the greatest women who had ever lived, and that the people here had taken them from her, to use and study. And if they would be rescued, she had been sent to deliver them from that place.

Maria told us that the boy and girl effortlessly pushed her out from the link, and conversed among themselves. She said they held hands and gazed into each other’s eyes, but spoke not one word out loud. At last the girl turned to her, and said that they knew the truth of Maria’s words trusted her. Our sister plucked two leaves from the tree beside her, and using the shaping arts, transformed each into a tiny cup filled with sweet liquor. Bidding them to drink, she in- structed them to ask for a nap, as the potion would make them sleep. Then she slunk over to the well in the garden and poisoned the water so that all who drank from it would die.

That night she sent forth spirits to summon the rest of us, and we traveled through the mists until we were all gathered together. At the sacred hour, we went up to the villa on the hill. All was quiet and the place echoed with the stillness of death, every servant, priest and guard passed on to the next life. In their rooms, the two children slept like angels. We gathered

them in cloaks of the finest lambswool and stole away into the night.

As we journeyed, there were some amongst us who thought it only right and fitting that we return Eloine’s babes to her breast. But wise Loretta reminded us that our poor Sister is not the woman and mother she once was. Poor thing, her wits have wandered and the fires of the Underworld have warped the metal of her soul, not tempered it. Far better for the babes to grow in the light and kindness of strangers than in the spiraling darkness and madness of their mother. The children, young as they are, seem to know and understand this. Even amidst our joy, it is a sad thing.

Reflections

The journal goes on to speak of the years that followed, of the joy and sisterhood that developed be-

tween the girl and the sisters, how the boy grew into something rare. Never at any point in the journal does Luria name the children, or state where they were. Even in disobedience, she was cautious. But there is a curious symbol drawn on several of the pages. In the last pages of his confessions, Brother Antonio could not help but believe that if he found that symbol, he would find the twins. And he very badly wanted to find the twins. His writings state that he wanted someone to know how brave Luria had been, and that he wanted someone to guide him through the newness of his Awakening — for that is what I believe the “strangeness” he speaks of to be. As a curious footnote, Antonio concludes his con- fessions with an account of his flight from the monastery. Amongst the things he took with him from the small herb garden — several sprigs of mint on which to chew. The Wheel turns and that which was dead lives again.

y sojourns amongst the Wise of the world have given me ample opportu- nity to observe, record and learn the ways in which our many varied tradi- tions practice the Arts. For obvious reasons, most of what I record here are spells, rites and rituals that can be performed with Awakened magicks. However, what I find fascinating is that in most cases, some of the simpler effects are within the reach of some of our non-Awakened sisters and brothers in the Craft, if only they have the strength of will and enough skill.

As I am writing this for posterity’s sake, I will take a moment to briefly explain the organization of this collection of wisdom. The rotes are first arranged by Sphere, then by degree of difficulty. I am an initiated Witch and Priestess of the Verbena, and as such my delineations of degree correspond to that which I am accustomed.

Spells marked “Neophyte” indicate those work- ings that are within the reach of those newly or recently Awakened, and, where indicated, non-Awak- ened hedge wizards, cunning women and the like.

“Initiate” workings are those that might be possible for an Awakened Witch who has had some training in his Crafts beyond his first encounter with true magicks. In some rare cases, even these rituals are possible for a non-Awakened shaman.

“Second Degree” and “Third Degree” spells re- quire the willworking skills of an Adept within a particular Sphere of influence. Unfortunately, these are beyond the reach of the un-Awakened. Finally, workings marked “Elder” are those rituals given to only the wisest among us, those who have proven themselves to be strong of will and true Masters of the Art. Now, it is time to begin.

Life

As this Sphere is the first taught to most of our Neophytes and Initiates, it is where I will begin. It is also referred to as the Art of Blood by many Pagans throughout the civilized world. It is the art of the body, of healing, and of growing. To me, these spells are the most sacred and useful of all.

Neophyte