coven into the room and gave them some instructions. The group of ladies lit four candles, placing them four positions representing north, east, south, and west. Ronan pulled a bejeweled athame out of a large pocket on the inside of his cloak. He ushered everybody into the middle of the room, and walked around them around the four candles clockwise with the dagger waist-high, creating a circle. Brenna slipped the soft robe on. It felt cool against her skin. A tremendous heat from the circle radiated toward her, making her skin bloom with sweat.
Ronan held up the athame. “On this night we invoke the dark lady to protect us and aid us. So mote it be.”
Brenna and the coven members repeated Ronan’s words. All of a sudden, a breeze picked up in the circle, swirling around them. The circle was now complete. Nobody would be able to leave until the ritual complete and the circle closed.
“Okay.” Ronan put the athame down and picked up a small mound of papers from the alter. “These are copies of the incarnation.” He handed them around the group. To everyone except Brenna. She thought it a bit strange but remained quiet while they read over the spell.
Ronan and the women arranged themselves so Brenna was standing in the middle. They all shut their eyes and raised their arms, leaving Brenna puzzled. They began a soft chant. Their voices were so low Brenna couldn’t make out the words. They lifted their arms higher, raising the heat. Feeling light-headed, Brenna took a deep breath. The floaty feeling didn’t pass. She went to take a step but found only air under her feet. She wasn’t feeling light-headed; she was levitating. “What the?”
“You are being taken to Maggie. Don’t struggle, just relax and take deep breaths,” Ronan said, having to raise his voice as the wind became stronger, his hair whipping at his face. “Just keep away from anything that isn’t Maggie!”
Brenna heard Ronan’s words as she floated out of the room and landed with a jolt in a forest full of stark white trees. Had it been snowing? No, the ground was red, not white. Her breath came in quick gasps. Remembering Ronan’s words, she took a deep breath. Then another. Her heart slowly relaxed. Her eyes breezed over her surroundings. It seemed to be a replica of her grandmother’s forest except for the strange coloring. The dead trees looked like they had bled to death, their blood spilling over the ground. She made her way through the trees, keeping an eye out for any movement.
“Maggie? Are you in here?” A scrape behind Brenna made her pulse jump back up. She turned slowly.
“Maggie?” There was nothing behind her except for the decrepit trees. She grasped the moonstone around her neck. The necklace calmed her. Until she heard the crying.
Brenna turned back and carried on. The crying became louder the further she walked left, so she trudged through piles of white leaves. It became hysterical, making Brenna quicken her pace.
She came across a small boy crouching on the ground with his back to her. His head was a mop of curly black hair and he wore all white. Brenna placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned. Before Brenna knew it, the boy snapped his head around his teeth clamped down on her hand. Brenna screamed. Pain shot into her hand and blood seeped out of the wound. The boy released her hand, revealing sharp black teeth. Brenna scrambled to her feet and ran, with the boy on her heels. Her vision clouded over. Lead filled her legs. She stumbled to the ground, glimpsed at her hand. The flesh surrounding the bite mark had turned brown. A dark vein sprouted near the wound, crawling up her arm. Pain shot up her arm with the vein. Unable to go on, she collapsed.
The boy stood over Brenna and sneered. She tried to move but her limbs were too heavy. Raising them even an inch broke her out in a hot sweat. The boy who was surely not a boy, shot out his grey hands, aiming for the moonstone. Brenna summoned all her strength to try move backward, but nothing happened. Could it be that wherever she was, the witch stone had no magic here? The boy’s long fingers dug under her collar, grasping the pouch around her neck. As he tugged on the pouch, his face twisted. The tip of a spear punctured his chest. A triumphant yell that sounded