What did Fascinum inspire?
noun; meaning "The act of bewitching, witchcraft"
It was a brisk autumn evening when we were called to action. The report had come in; Hostile activity in the Northern Quadrant, with indications of Spell-Casting and Demonic Possession.
Captain Greystone had informed the platoon that within the hour we would be moving out, and that we had best prepare for a battle. We’d be in for a fight out on the moors tonight. Some meditated. Others carefully inspected their weapons; polishing silver blades with anointing oil, securing the stoppers on bottles of water from the courtyard fountain.
In my own corner of the barracks, I busily rummaged through my stock of weapons. Sword? Staff? No. Tonight called for something special. There, in the bottom corner of the trunk was my prized possession – twelve inches of polished rosewood with a five stranded bow. It had served my father when he served as a hunter, and tonight, it would be by my side in battle.
We moved out just as the last rays of sunlight slipped behind the hills. Darkness and would provide cover for our attack. As we crossed into the Northern Territory, I could sense a change in the others. Gone was the humming of tunes, and sharing of stories to take their minds off of the coming battle. Now we moved in silence, and on high alert.
There came a sound from behind us. It was like the snapping of a tree branch, but if that branch had been an entire tree.
Breathe. They don’t know where we are. Can’t know where we are. Not in this darkness. Breathe.
But this was wrong. The ground seemed to come alive beneath us as tendrils of fog rose up, clinging to the horses and pulling at the riders. I yelled in terror at the icy fingers grasping my leg, and within moments found myself freed of it’s grasp, but also freed of my horse which bucked me off as it ran, terrified into the night.
I recoiled from the shock of the ground but quickly grasped the silver cross around my neck, muttering prayers and protections as my eyes flitted about in panic.
There were no formations. There was no order. Chaos reigned. I reached for my crossbow, but then panic. It was gone. I had lost my weapon. I quickly dropped to my knees, grabbing blindly for the wooden frame.
Greystone’s voice thundered over the din – “Retreat!”
Retreat? But my crossbow! I had to find it. I brushed madly at the ground, hoping I would come across it. There. That had to be it. The smooth curve of wood; the cool metalwork. I pulled at it but it was stuck.
I raised one of my knees from the soft ground and threw my foot against earth to leverage my weapon out and make a hasty retreat. But my boot did not strike rock or soil. There came a hollow thump, as though I was standing upon wooden planks, and then, the world fell out from under me.
“CAPTAIN” I screamed as I was enveloped by darkness. My arms and legs were battered as I fell, flailing for some handhold to stop my descent.
It was to no avail, but I was filled with surprise as I not only landed upon a soft surface, but proceeded to rebound upon it several times before settling among the leaves that had joined me in the fall.
What fresh hell is this? I reached for my belt, and from it, withdrew a pack of matches. Striking it did nothing to abate my concern as I held it about the space. I was immediately greeted by a row of human skulls upon a shelf. One had a half-melted candle protruding from its eye socket, and with a strong distaste I grabbed for it.
The now expanded glow revealed what I had feared. Shelves on every side, overflowing with the trappings of fascinum. Spellbooks, bottles and jars of every shape and size.
“If you want to look around, you should at least put the lights on.”
The voice had come from behind me and I was suddenly blinded as row upon row of lamps flickered to life. I wasn't just surrounded by shelves, I was seated at the bottom of what appeared to be a drained well now covered in circular shelves. Squinting, I could just barely make out a tiny black ceiling. Obviously where I had fallen through.
I spun around, and before me, as though laying upon a cushion of air, floated a fiery-haired figure in earthen robes.
“WITCH!” I shouted, grabbing the cross around my neck.
“Which? Which what?” the figure asked, looking around the room as though puzzled by my declaration.
“No! Witch! I name thee!”
The sorceress seemed to contemplate this momentarily before rotating into a sitting position, legs crossed, and leaning toward me.
“Well…” she said. “I’m waiting.”
“What?”
“Are you going to name me? How many guesses do I give you?” she asked, counting out tentative numbers upon her fingers.
“I already have!” I exclaimed. This was ridiculous! She was obviously playing for time! “Daughter of Satan! Guilty of the high crime of heresy!”
“Ugh! Can’t a guy have long hair?!”
Wait, “What?”
At this point, she threw herself into a standing position and marched around the room.
“The hair! Why does everyone think I’m a girl? Yes! I’m guilty of being hairy, but there’s no reason for it to be a crime!”
My mistake dawned upon me, and I may have blushed a little. But no, this was a witch! Wasn't it? They never really mentioned men being witches when I was training as a hunter, but this still counted, right?
“And my father’s name is Stan. Son of Stan. You really should check your facts before you come barging into someone else’s house you know.” he said waving a finger in front of my face.
I waved his hand away.
“I. You. I didn't barge in here! Your door was on the ground!”
“Yes! So idiot hunters like you don’t burn down my house like last time! Are you even a hunter? Kind of small for one aren't you?”
Oh this was too much.
“I’ll have you know I come from a line of hunters!” I retorted, my voice breaking the gruff tones I had become so accustomed to using the barracks.
The firey-haired witch paused mid-retort as a thought seemed to strike him.
“Bloody hell. When did they start admitting women to the hunters?!”
I shifted my gaze, only for a moment, but it was enough of a tell. They hadn’t. There was just me. And now, I was alone, separated from my platoon at the bottom of a well with a witch, or at least what appeared to be a witch, and what a fine mess this was.
“Oh.” He said. It echoed with tones of realization and awkwardness as he attempted to occupy his gaze elsewhere and conceal his own blushing.
The mutual silence seemed to last an eternity before he suddenly shot up the height of several shelves and grabbed a tea-kettle. I tracked his motion but suddenly preoccupied myself with a wood-carving, and he was most certainly not wearing pants beneath his robes.
“So! The only female hunter and the only male witch - or so you’ve said. Aren’t we a pair!” He chattered as he rummaged about the shelves. “It’s been a few years since I went into the village and I’m sure you know plenty of gossip.”
“What. No. I’m not having tea. I need to get back to my platoon.”
“It’s the middle of the night. I would not send my worst enemy out onto the moors, let alone someone who just fell through my ceiling.”
“Look, if this is some kind of trick…”
He turned and held up his hands. “No tricks. On my honor.” He said as he hopped onto the floor with the kettle and an assortment of tea and biscuits.
I relaxed a little, allowing the silver cross to hang down on my chest.
“There. Now that’s better. Take your cloak off and sit for a spell.” He said gesturing behind as he poked at the tiny hearth built into the stonework.
“Funny.” I muttered as I draped my cape over a large leather couch, complete with several springs, most likely what had broken my fall, and that were now protruding from the cushions. But a smile did touch my lips.
It was just the beginning of a very long, and very strange night.
Kaitlyn Rak
The Tower
"Please, step inside my shop," the woman's voice had beckoned to me. It had drifted out of her shop and into the hazy autumn evening air. It floated towards me, and I turned around, puzzled by where it could have came from.
I shielded my eyes against the weak sunlight that remained in the day, and read the sign above the door I had just passed. Magical Moons: Palmistry, Tarot Cards, and Astrology was painted on it in a yellow, faded script. Cracked crescent moons flanked either side of the sign.
I scoffed internally; I had never held much stock in the existence of magic. I'd had my palm read at a Halloween party once, and it took everything in me to not laugh in the poor girl's face; she had told me I was going to get married, have five children, and live out the rest of my days as a housewife. That definitely wasn't in the cards for me. That was my only experience with all things mystical, and it certainly hadn't left a good impression.
For some reason, though, I just couldn't continue on down the sidewalk. Instead, I stayed glued to the spot right outside the door, peering into the shop. I couldn't see a thing. I had the sense that I was meant to go in. It was ridiculous, I know; perhaps it was because Halloween was approaching once again, or the fact that I was currently uncertain what my next step in life was. Whatever the reason, I finally, hesitantly, walked through the door.
The shop wasn't outfitted as I expected it to be; there weren't scarves and beaded curtains hanging from the doors, and the scent of incense wasn't heavy in the air. There were candles, yes, but they weren't grossly perfumed ones. There were simply a few white votives lit along the glass-fronted counters. I peeked into one such counter; it contained nothing more but a few dusty volumes on divination. This definitely wasn't your cliché magic shop, no matter what the sign had first led me to believe.
Suddenly, the woman's voice called out to me again. "I would be much obliged if you could make your way to the back room." The voice sounded as if it belonged to the oldest possible woman your mind could conceive, so I was surprised to see a very young woman sitting at the table in the back. She looked to be in her early thirties, with a freckled face and light brown hair tied up in a knot. She wasn't swaddled in scarves and tacky jewelry, either; instead, she wore a simple black dress and one dainty necklace. As I got closer, I saw that the pendant was a crescent moon, just like the ones on the sign outside.
Once I reached the table, she looked up at me and smiled. "How can I help you today, hon?" she asked. "Maybe she was a smoker," I thought. There was no other way to explain that husky voice. She had to be a pack-a-day girl, at least, and yet I couldn't smell any smoke besides what the candles produced.
"I'm not sure," I said, still trying to decide if I should bolt out the door. Instead, I sat down across from her.
"Are you familiar with any divination techniques?" she asked. I found it hard to look directly at her; she had piercing green eyes, and I felt at once like she knew my every secret already.
"Uh, I had my palm read once. It wasn't that great," I answered lamely, still unnerved by those eyes.
"So no experience with the Tarot," she inquired, and when I shook my head, she continued. "All right. Well, for some reason, I feel as though that's what I should provide you with. I'm going to do a simple three-card spread for you, if that's okay." I nodded. "The three cards represent your past, present, and future. I'm going to have you shuffle the deck however you see fit to, all right?"
"Sure," I replied. She pulled out a set of cards. They looked almost as ancient as her voice sounded. She handed them off to me as gently as a mother would handle her newborn child.
I held the deck in my hand for a moment. It was surprisingly heavy. I wondered why I continued to be surprised.
Slowly, I shuffled the cards while thinking of nothing in particular. As I shuffled, though, I found my current predicament floating to the surface of my consciousness. It's funny how your problems always plague you when you're trying to think of anything else.
"Once you're finished, you can hand them back to me, and then I'll have you pick each card, okay?"
I nodded again. I appreciated how she made sure each step was fine with me beforehand. After a few minutes, the deck felt sufficiently shuffled, and I handed it back with as much care as she had given them to me with.
She took the cards and expertly spread them across the tabletop. "Point out which card you'd like first, please," she requested.
I pointed to a card at random. She pulled it from the deck and flipped it over.
On the card was the moon, high in the sky. On the ground below it, a dog and a wolf howled. What was it with this place and moons?
“The Moon. This card often represents fears and anxieties. Often, in your past, things weren't always as they seemed. You felt much confusion because of this, but you shouldn't worry any longer. The Moon is there to inspire and enchant us. Though the night is dark, the moon is always there to light our way.”
"That's...that's pretty accurate for my childhood, actually," I said to her. She simply nodded, as though she expected that to be my answer.
"Would you please pick another card?" she asked. I looked at the deck again. I felt almost drawn towards a card that was just left of the center of the deck, so I pointed to that one. Once again, she pulled the card and flipped it over.
The card depicted a lightning-struck tower. It was ablaze, and there were bodies falling from it. Wonderful. That couldn't be a good sign.
The woman must have sensed how I felt. "The Tower seems like a terrifying card, I know. It isn't the most pleasant of images. It's not as bad as it seems, though, don't worry. The Tower represents sudden change. Sometimes, this change is a good thing. If you've been feeling like you're stuck in a rut, you should expect a change in fortune quite soon."
I only nodded, unable to speak. I had heard that the Tarot is sometimes used as a psychological tool, and that was my only explanation for how accurate this reading was turning out to be. I had felt like I was in a rut. Nothing was working out for me lately. Could this really mean that all would change?
"Are you all right? Would you like to draw your last card?" she asked me, looking concerned.
"Yeah, I'm all right," I said finally. "I'll continue with the reading." I looked at the cards once more. This time, I felt drawn to a card on the far right, almost at the end of the deck. I pointed to it, and she repeated the process.
There on the card was the sun, vibrant and lovely.
"The Sun. This card represents enlightenment and greatness. You will achieve wonderful things, and you will be able to feel confident in all that you do. The future will finally seem clear to you. Good things are coming your way," she finished, and looked up at me again, smiling once more. "See? Everything will be fine," she said.
At that very moment, a clap of thunder broke the stillness in the air. I glanced out the door. I hadn't noticed, but it had begun to rain while I was inside the shop. I looked back at the card reader. She had begun to bundle her deck back up.
"Thank you," I said to her. "How much do I owe you?"
"You don't owe me anything. I don't believe it's right to earn money from my gifts. Nature didn't ask me for anything after bestowing them on me, so why should I ask you for cash?"
I had learned to stop being surprised inside this shop, so I only nodded once more. "Thank you again," I said, and ran out into the rain.
On my short walk home through the thunderstorm, I pondered when this sudden change would arrive. As I reached my home, the first fork of lightning lit up the entire sky. It reminded me of the lightning on The Tower card.
I unlocked my door and made my way to my bedroom. I felt exhausted, although I hadn't done much of anything. I was just about to lay on my bed when I noticed there was something on top of the covers.
A chill ran up my spine at that moment, the kind that had nothing to do with the storm raging outside. The Tower card was sitting on my bed, a perfect reproduction of the one I had just pulled at Magical Moons.
"Well," I said after a moment, breaking the silence. "I guess that change is coming sooner than I thought."
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