She resisted their consolation.
Truth be told,
I did tell them to leave her alone.
Torture
corrupts and breaks,
sinks its fangs and is ravenous poison.
Stretches a sadistic iron claw against softness not meant to be pierced
and delights in the sound of ripping soul.
Energies engulfed her.
Death
near certain.
Agony convulsed and contorted
until limbs could no longer move.
Our Circle delved to depths,
defied explanation,
covered us in sacred ash, and reverence
listening around hallowed flames
to the pitch in her screams,
examining seizure patterns,
and the taste of falling tears.
Countless sacrifices had been made.
Vows taken.
Stones cast.
Herbs gathered.
Surrender here unconcerned with non-resistance
but acceptance of blood spoilt.
Ease is never a consideration.
Such cries summon the seeress and the work must be done.
No one comes and turns back.
Time is nothing.
Healing is everything.
Thousands cast this spell and caught her,
unshamed and unbroken.
Not one have we lost.
May the Ancestors be forever pleased.
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Nice work
Very well written. Keep up the good work!
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