ＢΞＷＩＴＣＨΞＤ (discontinued)

𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

(chapter titles in French because I'm extra and bilingual)

"ᴏᴘᴘᴏʀᴛᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴘʟʏ ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴇɪᴢᴇᴅ." ― ꜱᴜɴ ᴛᴢᴜ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴀʀ

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Fuck, I broke my quartz!" I gasped as I get down to pick up the pink shards.

"Do you know what that means?" I asked my friend, Melanie, who had witnessed the whole scene from the comfort of her bed.

"If a crystal breaks, it signifies that a shift has taken place"

She raised her hands to the ceiling and closed her eyes, mumbling incoherent words. A shift? Melanie was no seer, today was Yule, the winter solstice and this celebration was one for new beginnings. Hence, the shift.

"Lend me your wisdom clever prophetess" I snickered.

"A pleasure, mortal" She solemnly added while staring into my eyes.

"Come now, we'll be late for the ritual" I walked out.

She sighed and got off the bed, following me out of the house, into the woods.

When we arrived, the sun was already down. It was the longest night of the year after all. Fortunately, the moon was full.

We where in a grand field, the night snow still light and crunchy under our naked feet. I took out a silver daguer and started tracing a circle on the snow, trapping us inside.

"Let's do this!" Melanie said as she assembled a fire place with the twigs she had picked earlier.

I got down on my knees and murmured a small incantation to light the fire up. Which failed because well this kind of magic doesn't work you know. Fool.

I sighed and took out a lighter from the pocket of my long white dress, lighting this small fire.

I took out two piece of paper and a pen.

"Now let's write our wishes for the new year" I smiled and handed one to Melanie.

What do I wish for? I looked up at the night sky .

"What do I want?" I thought out loud.

I knew.

I wrote down my wish and threw the small paper in the blaze. Then, everything went dark.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

.
.

.
.
.
.
.
.
"Where am I?"