Ravenhawks' Magazine Magick for Mind Body and Soul
Seasons of Magick~Mind~Body~Soul~Environmental Consciousness
It is beautiful,
Shivers and turn on more lights.
Clouds moved across the moon’s bloody face, but even the wind was silent. No trees murmured; no leaves rustled. The acolyte, his fingers gripping the amulet, moved cautiously after the old man, his eyes fixed on the shadowy apse. There was something odd and unnerving about the darkness that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. His feet dragged as if he were walking through thick mud. The amulet in his right hand grew hot. Hot enough to burn, but he dared not let go.
The ravens shuffled and rattled their ragged wing feathers. The acolyte cringed and his shuffling steps came to a halt. He raised the amulet fearfully and pressed it to his brow. Pain seared, but he gritted his teeth, letting the images of blood and death wash, like a filthy tide, into his thoughts. Suppressing a cry, he thrust the amulet back into the pocket of…
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I can’t wait for the next installment, wow!
The older monk stopped his muttering and raised his head.
“Eagles!” He pointed to the birds, black against the lurid sky, flapping with unhurried wing beats to perch on the crumbling arch of the crossing. “Another omen.”
The acolyte shook his head but the shadows hid the movement, and he dared not openly contradict. The moon hung in the still glowing sky, and by its light he watched more birds wing their way to the ruins. Not eagles. Ravens. And the omen was not a good one. He glanced at the older man’s ecstatic expression and knew that he had not seen the harbingers, or had not wanted to see.
“Now, to the altar,” the old man said, almost to himself and strode towards the apse. The acolyte wondered why the shadows seemed so dense, why he could not make out the shape of the altar. Perhaps it had been…
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“At last,” the older monk murmured. “To have found it after so many years. And on this night of all nights.”
The acolyte gazed through the tall lancet windows, still full of light, though they seemed to let none fall into the building. Through a window of a side chapel, glassless now and empty, the moon appeared, red and bloody. The acolyte licked dry lips and tried to convince himself that this was a good omen, but his eyes were drawn irresistibly to the deep shadows that gathered where the twilight had receded. He wished that they had arrived in daylight.
The two monks stood side-by-side beneath a red sky slowly inking over with darkness, where once had arched the great vault of the nave. The older man raised his eyes and let his gaze roam among the delicate tracery of the windows, the columns and the buttresses. The acolyte…
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Ravenhawks' Magazine Magick for Mind Body and Soul 
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