She walked slowly through the herb garden, looking pensively at the grey leaves, in the faint light of dusk, her dark hair as raven wings.

Soon, once the clouds cleared the face of the moon, she would join her sisters, in the shallow waters of the lake, at this thought her heart beat faster, as if the dream was about to start, as if their world was opening, as if the millennial magic was once again to take possession of them all.

Soon they would be dancing again in the new light, far away from the hideous reality, far away from their persecutors, from the burning pyres…

So she walked the first steps of the bridge, sensing in her blood the effect of the enchantment, and as she sang the words of the litany, she remembered:

“The Reverend Mother must combine the seductive wiles of a courtesan with the untouchable majesty of a virgin goddess, holding these attributes in tension so long as the powers of her youth endure.”

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past

I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.