Shadows spilled over serpentine vines, whilst an ivory veil of fog whirled between twisted trunks. The cold snapped and the air whispered a thousand forbidden secrets to whoever was willing to listen. For a young, practicing Wiccan, it was the perfect night.

The air, in some mystical way, filled her with the strength of a thousand storms and she began to feel energy surge through her from the earth below. The sound of crashing waves entered her conscience, igniting a fire of pure exhilaration. And right then, she knew it was time to cast the spell.

She began to chant. Her voice, just a delicate whisper, was lifted by the winds creating a howling echo. As she raised both hands towards the starlit skies, elevated to that seductive level of euphoria, she recited the final couplet and fell to the ground.

She had cast her first spell.