The Triple Goddess and Horned God have been punished for a crime they didn't commit. Cursed to love and lose each other in every life, they've been thrown into the mortal realm to endlessly relive their heartbreak. With a bit of magick, will they be...
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☽☼~~~∞☾✩☽∞~~~☼☾
Emmaline woke with a start, a sheer mist of perspiration dusting the skin of her chest and forehead. Her body slumped back down in the bed once she realized she was alone in her dark room, a familiar sense of disappointment creeping in that she woke up at all.
It was the fifth dream in as many weeks of that man. She had never met him before that she could recall, but then again, they say we can only dream of faces we know. She felt like she would have remembered this one, though.
Sometimes he would be dark and brooding, full of raw sexual energy. He would have jet-black hair and sharp, edgy features. His dark eyes were piercing but never frightening. No, he would send her a wild look that would only make her want him more.
Sometimes he would be light and carefree, like sunshine in human form. His hair would be white as snow, and his smile would light up whatever room he was in, drawing her to him like a moth to a flame.
No matter which side of this mystery man visited her, the dream always ended the same. She would find herself in bed with him, entirely at his mercy and delirious from his touch, only to wake up before they finished the deed. Talk about a buzzkill.
Despite the early hour, she decided to go ahead and get up for the morning. It would be a long day, but she'd been looking forward to it for the better part of the year. Finally, it was the day before Beltane, April 30th, also known as the Night of the Witches.
With the addition of the partial eclipse, the veil was thinning, and she had plans to manifest what she thought her life was lacking: love.
The dreams may have spurred her on, but realistically, she had felt more than a little alone for some time. She hadn't dated at all since her breakup with Namjoon a couple years before, and to be quite frank, she was starting to wonder if something was wrong with her.
She may have been a bit deficient in romantic love that left her toes curling like her dreams, but the rest of her life was primarily happy and meaningful. She had friends who loved her and lifted her up. She had a coven of like-minded witches who helped her with her spiritual growth and development. She also had her bookstore, Daydream Books, which was successful enough to support her financially.
She just felt a smidge incomplete.
Emmaline grabbed the makeup bag off her vanity and shoved it under her arm before she crossed the hall to her bathroom, undoing the dutch braids she had put in her hair the night before as she went. She checked the resulting waves in the mirror, deeming them acceptable, and used a dash of product to tame any flyaways she encountered. The long, chestnut waves were soft and bouncy, just how she liked them.
She did her morning skincare routine in a haze, fantasizing about the tea she would use as a lifeline to keep her awake. She would never admit it to anyone, but at night she secretly hoped to have another dream about her mystery man, despite how frustrating the outcome always was. The downside was the inevitable sleeplessness that followed. Early mornings were much more familiar to her these days.
