Friday, December 14th, 2018Â â Journal of Helena Grimaldi
        The day has finally come. The one that has excited and terrified me to my core since I was a little girl, still so unsure about my place within all of this. Honestly, I canât say that I am always sure even now but I am devoted. I know that I have been training all my existence for this very moment, but I believed it wouldnât be for at least a few more years to come and then suddenly it was time. Am I ready? Am I strong enough to go through all this? Even with the fellow witches backing us up, it was my mother that was supposed to be leading the charge instead of me. My fatherâs High Priestess and she fit the role with more grace than I will ever be capable of. If all goes well tonight, her death will be one step closer to the retribution that Iâve watched my father hold inside for so long. I, too, have held much more than Iâm sure anyone my age should bare. Mighty Hecate, Goddess of the Witches, please bless me with the power to succeed tonight. We need this, my father desperately needs this. Yet, I am still left to wonder about whatâ
A gentle tapping echoed through her cozy attic room and was followed by a groan from her door, slender fingertips releasing her pen before looking up to see her father in the doorway. No words came, just a nod of his head and the young witch knew it was time to leave. The two had more than enough preparation to do before they could actually begin and both wanted to arrive before the fellow witches filed in to help. She quickly closed her journal, grabbed for her coat and backpack, then proceed behind him down the hall. A car would be taking them tonight, although Helena preferred to bike the four miles with the cold wind, but protocols were in full effect. They couldnât risk these final moments for anything and they were briskly swept into the vehicle as if they had never touched the street. An illusion. No trace could be linked back to them, acting as fragments and apparitions with each advance until they were safely in the Ouroboros Headquarters.
Susannah met them in the entryway as Helena took her and Antonâs jacket, listening intently to the phoenix give an update on what was still left to be done. It seemed as though they were much further along than Anton had originally planned, a bittersweet emotion crawling up Helenaâs throat at the idea of it only being moments away. Change, a quality that the young witch was used to when it came to their work, but even the build up of her personal power mattered and she drew in a long breath. This would be the true test of her taking on a different focus within her dark magic abilities and not just relying on sacrificial offerings, but also maneuvering the spirits gallantly into their new homesâ two beautifully engraved daggers.Â
Once Susannah was just out of earshot, she tugged on the loose sleeve of her father and did her best to remain poise. âI know you explained it already,â sapphireâs hastily looking to him, just a child behind a thin layer of courage and entrusting in the bigger picture he had painted, âItâs just that, what if the side effects are more extreme than we have prepared for.âÂ
Hadnât she lost more than enough and the burden on the innocent lives that seemed to keep stacking up still felt imprisoning. Was this really the path that her own mother would have approved of? Snippets of her voice cracking as Helena continued, âPlease promise me that you wonât push yourself too far.â
Stoic and undaunted, yet Antonâs eyes flashed praise and Helena wondered if he had just seen flecks of Tillie in her expression, âHells. Our family, our organization has been moving towards this goal for centuries. Everyone has sacrificed so much in order to get here and now, the risks we have all taken. All that time we have been preparingâ trust in your ancestors, trust in me.â
She nodded instantly at the angelic quality to his speech, finding herself unusually captivated and self-assured once more, âIâm ready.â
They entered the library and Helena almost couldnât recognize the display. All the usual tables and chairs had been moved out, giving it a haunting and barren look. Books that had once littered the floors had also made their way into proper shelving and revealed more of the wood flooring, showing clearly the start of a salt ring. Other witches had begun to energize the room, lemongrass and rosemary smoke hitting her in the face as she moved towards the center. She touched the pages of the grimoire and peered over the spell, not as though she really needed a refresher but she muttered to herself anyway. Every phrase would need to be spoken clearly, yet another risk and chance for anything to go completely wrong. Within moments, the room lights dimmed and the hearth became the main source of luster. Another deep breath, body guiding itself into place while her mind composed and collected. One last invocation before looking to her father, eyes steady and resolute.Â
Antonâs voice boomed in the previously silent room, the loudest noises being that of the fireplace and shifting feet in the circle around them, followed by Helena linking hands with her father. Beads of sweat had already pooled around her crown before the hard part had started, a hooded Susannah bringing the items when the incantation had suggested it was time. Hair pricked at her neck and started to burn, insides pierced and jabbed, orbs of light billowing and seething in flocks above them. She had been warned of the violence this would cause, so much more than her night with Kasey in the mausoleum, but this was excruciating. Power surged through to the point of collapsing and her hand gripped Antonâs ferociously. This was itâ their final words. Everything in the room trembled when the spirits abruptly frenzied down and disappeared into the daggers, taking all the wickedness with them.Â
hey if youâre a harrie/narrie/niall stan please like or reblog this and follow me so I can follow you back! My dash has been rather slow these days and Iâm a hoe for content.Â
