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“Spirits of Earth, this sovereign night, ground and center this sacred rite.”
The earth shifted, deep in the core beneath my feet, as a rush of energy rose through the soil to steady both me and the ritual to come. Aeval waited a moment, then nodded and moved to the next point—outside the circle again—where she lit a white candle for the Air.
“Spirits of Air, this sovereign night, buoy aloft this sacred rite.”
The words were simple, but as she spoke, a breeze sprang up to gust around me, and laughter lightly rolled in off the wind. My mind cleared, although the energy from the potion remained, and I could sense everything keenly, clearly, as if a veil had lifted.
Aeval moved to the next point and lit a red candle.
“Spirits of Fire, this sovereign night, burn bright with passion this sacred rite.”
Once again, the Elements sprang to her bidding and I responded. As it had when I was in the pool, my body began to ache with the most exquisite desire, and I found myself reeling, my pussy growing wet, my nipples stiffening. The breeze made it feel like a hundred hot fingers were tickling over my skin.
Aeval moved on to the fourth point, where she lit the blue candle.
“Spirits of Water, this sovereign night, wash through and cleanse this sacred rite.”
A wave rolled through; I could hear it churning as it engulfed me, an unseen force so strong that I stumbled, reeling. As it washed through my body and soul, any lingering worries and troubles were swept away and I stood stronger, taller, focused only on what was happening.
Aeval lit a black candle at the center point at the top of the pentagram, and whispered, her words faint and distant.
“Spirit of the Universal dance, bring to this rite your sacred trance.”
As the invocation echoed on the breeze, I was sucked deep into a long tunnel, swiftly moving inward, toward the core of my being, with everything around me surreal and vivid. The eye catchers glowed deeper, the stars twinkled brighter, and the auras of the trees began to shimmer and glow until the forest was lit up like nature’s carnival.
Lastly, Aeval lit a silver candle to one side of the black, and a gold to the other side. She raised her hands to the sky and turned to the crescent moon, her voice echoing through the glade.
“Mother Moon, shining bright, over Earth, Air, Fire, Water, ride your priestess, take her now, Camille, your sacred daughter! Lord of Horns, Father of Earth, Guardian, Provider, Brother, call now, your newborn priest, Our Beloved Lady’s Lover.”
As the Moon Mother descended to ride my shoulders, I turned to see a figure edge out of the forest. Male, that much I knew; he was glowing with the light of a priest. Of a god. And he was mine. I knew he was mine, and I dropped my kimono where I stood. As he began to walk toward me, I shrugged out of my dress. Aeval forgotten, the ritual forgotten, all I could think about was how I needed to rid myself of my clothing, for the chase was on.
Naked, I stood bathed in the moonlight, waiting, edging slightly to the left.
He moved, darting in my direction, and I ran lightly out of the Circle, laughing, turning to beckon him on, to tease him in. I wanted him, but he’d have to earn the right. No one claimed me without proving himself worthy, and whether he be mortal or god, he would have to meet me and match me.
I circled around the outside of the pentagram, the wind nipping my heels. He laughed, throaty and rich, and from someplace deep within me, I recognized the voice but could give no name to it. For he truly had no name, and neither did I. We were male and female, god and goddess, polarities in the great dance of the universe. Like magnets, we were drawn together, but the moment he came too close, I pushed away, running out of reach.
I still could not see him; he was cloaked in shadow, covered by a veil that I could not penetrate. But I did not fear him. He was my match, he was the Chosen One. And I—I was his Sovereign Queen. To be worthy of his status, he must meet me and convince me he was worthy. And then I would allow him in, ride him into the night, and he would emerge sanctified and holy, cleansed in my sacred light and sex.
His laughter faded as he paused, eyeing me. I stopped, shoulders back, hair streaming in the wind. The mood shifted, and intent now—the playfulness vanishing—he began to advance. I stepped back, into the pentagram, into the center.
“You must earn the right to taste my body. You must earn the right to be King Stag of the Forest.” My voice echoed into the night, the words coming from deep within me.
“I claim you.” Again, the voice resonated with me, even in its quiet ferocity. “Name the challenge.”
He must pass three tests, as it was in the days of old. Before I could stop myself, I said, “The challenge of demons.”
“So be it.” His words echoed with a frightening clarity.
I raised one hand, not sure what I was doing but only knowing that I had to. As I did, the image of a woman appeared—terrifying and beautiful. She was Japanese, and I recognized her as Demonkin. The man cried out and pulled back, his fear tangible in the night. She laughed and held up a spear.
He met her with a katana—where he got it, I could not see—but they fought, spear meeting the sword with deadly precision. Her expression was set; she was out to kill him if possible. She radiated anger and lust, the desire for blood. As she opened her mouth, I saw fangs, pearly white, with blood dripping.
She dove for him, knocking the katana out of his hand, and he let out a shout, but at the last minute, he managed to slip out of her grasp and dart around behind her. He wrestled the spear away from her and, without fanfare, without hesitation, plunged it through her chest. With a scream, she burst into dust and ash and vanished.
I still could not see his face as he turned to me and raised his hand in salute.
“One,” he said.
