Treme'

Stew

"There is a charm in making a stew. to the unaccustomed cook, from the excitement of wondering what the result will be, and whether any flavor save the onions will survive the competition in the mixture"."

—Annie Besant—

Underneath the cloud-filled sky, the sacred space in Magnolia de Fleur's backyard was alive with whispers of ancient magic and the rustle of magnolia leaves. Here, surrounded by nature's hallowed embrace, Arsetti stood firmly at the eastern point of their elaborate sigil-casting circle, her hazel eyes carrying the weight of the task ahead. The cool breeze seemed to acknowledge her presence, carrying the scent of earth and growing things, wrapping around her like an unseen cloak.

"Lès," she began, her voice rising above the wind, calling upon the essence of air to witness their rite. She felt a kinship with the East, the direction of beginnings, and the promise of renewal, with a deep breath she cleared her mind.

To her left, Fe' took his place in the south, where the cauldron awaited, its cast-iron sides cold to the touch. His magenta and purple hair stood out against the greenery of the garden, his movements deliberate as he called out," Sid." The iron safety pins, small but numerous, chimed with a metallic whisper as he dropped them into the cauldron. They represented protection, strength forged in fire—the perfect complement to their intent.

In the west, Bianca's soft gray eyes reflected the last light of day, her optimism a beacon that kept the shadows at bay. "Lwès," she called, her voice gentle yet unwavering, inviting the element of water to cleanse and fortify their circle.

Finally, in the north, Bonnie's steady green-eyed gaze turned towards the rapidly darkening horizon. "Nò," she intoned, summoning the steadfast power of earth, grounding their circle with her resolve.

Arsetti watched as Fe''s hands moved with practiced ease, the herbs tumbling into the cauldron in a mix of greens and browns, the scent sharp and invigorating. He had done this many times before, yet never for stakes so high. They were casting more than a spell tonight—they were weaving a shield to guard the city's most vulnerable souls.

The air grew dense with anticipation, a palpable energy that hummed through the clearing as each participant finished calling upon their respective elements. One by one, their eyes began to glow—a testament to the powers they were invoking. It was a sight both awe-inspiring and ominous, as though the very fabric of reality acknowledged the gravity of their purpose.

The silence stretched on, punctuated only by the sound of the leaves and the distant roll of thunder. Arsetti closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the pulse of her tattoos—a living testament to the power that surged through her veins. When she opened them again, it was with a renewed sense of purpose. Her family, her friends, the very fabric of New Orleans' supernatural community—it all rested upon their shoulders.

"Let us begin," she said, her tone neither loud nor forceful, but filled with the conviction of one who has accepted their destiny. The witches around her nodded, their faces etched with lines of concentration.

Arsetti reached out, her fingers brushing the rim of the cauldron, feeling the thrum of energy as Fe' carefully added the last of the herbs. The iron safety pins lay submerged, ready to rise and protect, just as they were about to do. Together, united by blood and by conviction, they would cast a spell that would resonate through the very bones of New Orleans.

And with the corners called, their true work began.

"Nou menm kat LeRoux yo rele sou zansèt yo byenveyan ki kouri byen fon nan vil la," Fe' began his breath a whispered promise against the charged air, his gaze unwavering from the cauldron's dark mouth. Arsetti and the other repeated the words. The ceremonial knife felt cool and weighty in his hand, an extension of their collective will as he drew its sharp edge across his palm. His blood, black as a starless night and as toxic as nightshade, ribboned down into the brew within the cauldron, sizzling as it mingled with the herbs and pins.