March 21, 2019 - 6:28am — Zergarikiaka
The moonlight cut silver lines through endlessly thickened fog, only to create a bleak grey glow on the surface of the pond’s unbroken, glassy surface. The ghostly wisps of unseasonal fog that entrenched the landscape that night muted out nearly all color from the forest, and rendered visibility into a functional minimum. Even the astute nocturnal creatures of the forest were resigned to their dens and nests, lest the imagined threats and beasts of the fog manifest their selves from nightmares into reality. It was the right conditions needed for just a bit of magic.
Three bulls stood just beyond the pond’s shore, speaking among one another quietly to avoid gaining the attention of any nearby denizens of the forest. Two of the three were of particularly large build, with massive horns, and extra sets of domineering crimson eyes, while the third was of medium build and seemed to somehow attract the moon’s pale light to himself by simply standing there, resembling a blue ghost in the fog.
“I doubt we’ll have another chance like this any time soon. If any of the ingredients are wrong, or if our timing is wrong we’ll need to wait until next autumn for another chance for nature’s events to align properly again.”
“Now is not the time to start concerning yourself about ingredients. You divined their need yourself, and your experience is unquestionable. Have a little more confidence in yourself, necromancer.”
”Right, right. Call it caster’s jitters.”
As the more vocal, monotonous duo spoke among one another, they had begun a process in using a special collection of herbs and crushed runes, intermixed with dried potentially hallucinogenic substances the pale blue bull opted out of identifying, to carefully construct a series of symbols across the ground; a Veve, depicting the voodoo lwa ‘Gran Bwa’, at the center of the Celtic tree of life.
