Event Private Winter Weather Worries Weekday Witches

Wednesday was busy marking the grounds around the circle with her glyphs, setting up various fail-safes in the event anything went wrong with the ritual. Her own feline familiar was sitting on the far side of the bonfire away from Tuesday, hissing whenever she got close and telepathically sending alarms into Wednesday's mind, which, combined with the impending ritual, was making her more and more anxious.

"Just about set!" She called up, standing up straight and readjusting her glasses on her face. "Just give me a moment to double check everything."

Even though not all members were present, this was the first attempt at large scale magic the group had tried since trying to break their curses. Obviously, this was a far more simple spell in comparison, but that didn't leave Wednesday feeling any less nervous about it. She paced around the ritual grounds, checking over everyone else's work, making sure there weren't any visible mistakes.

Sunday

Bathed in faint firelight, Sunday knelt at a makeshift forge she had created on an especially large rock that was smooth enough for her purposes. Drawn in permanent marker, the spell circle glimmered faintly, though Sunday could only tell from the firelight from her own equipment. That was one good thing about all of the snow; it spread the firelight so much further.

There was a neat pile of stones next to her forge. They were infused with elemental energy taken from the wind, earth, water, and fire. They were anchors to root the elements to the area, providing more power to the ritual.

"I am finished," Sunday reported quietly. "I merely need to arrange the stones around the circle."

Wednesday eventually reached a point where she just felt like she was stalling. She’d checked over everything, confirmed that nothing was out of place multiple times. It was time to start. She took up position on the other side of the bonfire, taking a moment telepathically shush Frodo. The cat’s agitation was a distraction she couldn’t afford right now.

At her feet, she had drawn a small ring of symbols into the dirt, that surrounded where she was standing. Giving it a tap, the intricate symbols lit up, causing multiple corresponding symbols to light up around the bonfire. Her own magic was to help convert the ambient mana of the forest and focus it at the centre, like fuel for the ritual.

Wednesday’s quiet voice eventually began to chant alongside Tuesday’s, her eye closing as she focused her attention on the spell.

Sunday

She arranged the stones with the greatest care, as a mother would her newborn child. Fire to south, water to north, and so forth. When she was done, she settled back near the edge of the circle and began chanting quietly.

The clearing was eerily still as the witches worked to complete their ritual, the very wind itself seeming to hold its breath as they began chanting.

The candles lit first, their small flames grew tall and tilted inward as if pulled by some force toward the center of the circle. As the chanting grew in volume the candles began to burn a soft white instead of their normal yellow-orange.

The carved stones, meant to bind and conjure the elements, began to glow softly as they were bathed in the light of the candles. Each one began to hum indistinctly, like music heard through a wall.

The bonfires took varying amounts of effort to light: the southern one bursting into a full flame almost instantly and the northern one taking several attempts to light fully. Once all the bonfires were lit however the humming from the stones increased in volume. It was a full orchestra now, slow and heavy. Music that pulled at the soul in ways nor Earthly music could.

The first of the candles, the one positioned at true north, blew out suddenly as a terrible force crashed against the invisible barrier that their protective circles had made. Saturday would feel the dread of the Terror of the Skies drawing near. His fears had been waiting for its moment to strike. But the barrier held regardless.

In the central bonfire, Sparks began to rise and swirl and form an image. It was not perfect yet, nothing anyone could make out. And like clockwork, every thirty seconds one of the candles was snuffed out. Clockwise, starting from the north. Like a timer counting down.