Witches and Wedding Bells

"Sola-Soalce; Sola-Solet, report to here; the HOUR is SET...!"

The sun began to set over Witchhelm. It was the most sinister day of the year in the realm of witches and warlocks and the gathering hour had come. In a barren, unwooded area, a scraggly haired witch and balding warlock, both hidden beneath hooded robes, materialized from out of the darkness and stood around a tiny circle of stones. There were also two much younger witches, identical and red-haired. They both stood at a distance away, bored by the opening ceremony and choosing to gaze off into the distance for even more important arrivals.

The wedded witch and warlock murmured an incantation between each other and, suddenly, a warm campfire sprang up from within the stone circle. It glowed brilliantly into the sky, yet delicately enough that it didn’t threaten to catch fire where it wasn’t supposed to. This was the night and the stage was set for an important gathering. This year’s assembly would bring far worse consequences than usual. Maxim and Laren Pryce could only settle back in onto a log seat and wait as Mega and Mara continued to gaze off into the distance.

“We have kept the flame well!” Laren declared in a contorted voice.

“Indeed, my betrothed.” Maxim conceded. “The Summoning Flame will bring the obedient ones to us.”

“And Adom and Sirias Warlock?” Laren weedled.

Maxim pursed his lips in thought before answering.

“Adom Warlock still well understands our customs pertaining to the day that lines up with the Earthly All Hallow’s Eve.” Maxim reassured her. “He will come. He will come on foot, as will his mortal bride as her only power, but they will be here. Our nieces will spot them.”

As the ancient Summoning Flame burned its commands, the ground suddenly began to shake. Nothing collapsed; just the ground shook ever so slightly. Only the twins seemed to mind it and clutched to one another for a moment. Then, a crack materialized in the ground and a bald, pinheaded, over-muscled warlock emerged from beneath the ground with the slightest scent of foul steam. At the same time, a crow suddenly flew into the proceedings and finally perched itself on a bare tree. As it unleashed a screech, there was a puff of black smoke and a woman in traditional witch’s gown, black hat, and close-cropped black and red hair emerged. She carried a single crow’s feather with her. Upon her arrival, the crow perched itself on her shoulder.

“Wyrm and Revyn, the first to arrive.” Maxim applauded them.

Wyrm unleashed a snort and settled noisily onto a log seat. Revyn, in turn, remained standing and stroked Mercawl, the crow’s, head affectionately.

“I am necessary here and could only arrive with haste.” She declared, haughtily. “Who but I can properly see into the realm of mammon?”

As if on command, the single black feather that she held in her hand seemed to glisten and spark. Her point made, Revyn took her seat beside her husband to wait.

An amplified, electric guitar scream filled the air suddenly. All eyes glanced up as a witch with long, blonde locks soared in on her vehicle of transportation. Then, as she landed gracefully, the form of a warlock with long, blonde hair of his own flew in under his own power. Upon landing, the irate warlock snatched his guitar back from his suddenly perturbed wife.

“Lancer and Letham.” Lara clucked. “I didn’t think that you’d make it. And with that irritating instrument of yours, Lancer.”

“The only way to fly!” Letham screeched at such a decibel that suggested that she may have been deafened by the noise in the past.

Finally, a fourth witch and warlock pair flew in side-by-side under their own powers. The medium-height, purple haired witch landed mere inches away from Maxim and studied him through her eye-makeup. Her silver-haired, taller compatriot might as well have not existed as he landed behind his wife and gingerly cradled a small black cat under an arm. The strangely attractive witch certainly didn’t seem to realize that her sister, Maxim’s wife, happened to be there as well as she stroked the head warlock on a shoulder.

“Maxim Pryce!” she purred the name. “How long has it been?”

Maxim seemed to struggle to keep his composure but it eventually did work.

“A while, Essex.” He answered; then, to help redirect her attention, “Hello again, Magnus.”

Magnus Mysterium nodded his appreciation of the recognition and took Essex by a shoulder to sit her down.

“Your daughters have stood a vigilant watch for some time now, sister.” Lara added as Maxim settled back onto his own log seat and she settled a possessive hand on her husband’s shoulder.

“The young lovebirds have not arrived?” Essex sneered. “Perhaps they know too well why we are meeting here, no?”

Mega and Mara had heard their mother’s words and giggled and cackled between each other until Maxim could restore order.

“They will be here.” He reassured the assemblage. “You forget, Sirius must still travel on foot and Adom will do so as well if only so his dear wifey may keep up.”

At that moment, both of the youngest witches began jumping up and down and pointing.

“They’re coming!” Mega reported.

“They’re almost here!” Mara added.

“They’re coming here!” both girls declared in unison.

Most of the witches and warlocks settled onto their seats around the flame to silently gloat as to what they anticipated for Adom Warlock and Sirias Warlock-by-name. Maxim silently dreaded what needed to be addressed. Even Magnus appeared somewhat sorrowful; not to say for his daughters, clearly in the corner of smug anticipation. He finally rose from his seat and clapped them both on their shoulders.

“Thank you, girls; you’ve done well.” He dismissed them both.

Mega and Mara got the message and sulked over to be comforted by their mother. Then, Adom, a young warlock (forty-five by Earth years) with handsome features and a quite ordinary tuft of brunette hair, arrived. Sirias, in her late thirties, brunette, and quite shy, had actually fallen a few steps behind her husband. Magnus was the first to intercept the pair and he stretched out his arms to reveal the squirming black cat with the slightest indentation of a gray diamond shape in his forehead.

“Take Charm.” He offered.

Sirias saw a black cat offered by a warlock and cringed. Adom accepted the tiny animal.

“May good fortune be in your favor, Adom of Warlock.” Magnus whispered.

It was all that needed to be said. Magnus vanished as though he had been an illusion and reappeared on the log alongside his wife. The other witches and warlocks seemed to glare through the late arrivals. Sirias would have run for the hills had it been an option. Adom squeezed her hand instead.

“It’s alright.” He whispered to her. “Magnus Blaq is a good man.”

They could also use a bit of Charm’s good fortune but he wasn’t about to say so out loud. With that, the youngest couple approached the assembly. Maxim broke the monotony of silent stares next as he rose up from his own seat.

“Thank you for coming this evening, Adom and Sirias of the House of Warlock.” He declared. “We may now begin quite a different ceremony than in previous years.”

Adom and Sirias glanced at one another once more. Sirias wanted more than ever to disappear and Adom very well could have if he wasn’t loyal to his bride in her time of need.

Suddenly, Revyn’s feather sparked once more and, with its power mixed with the Flame of Truth, revealed an earthly ceremony that Adam found quite familiar. Maxim got straight to the point of what they saw.

“We accepted your union long ago, Adom; and you, Sirias, into our order by union.” Maxim declared. “We even accepted the birth of your daughter; with her mother’s looks and something of her father’s power. Nonetheless, this is she, yes?”

Adom barely had to see the images for himself. Bella Warlock (soon to be Bella Winters) was at her wedding; and her father and mother couldn’t be there with her. She was set to marry Clinton Winters, a young man pursuing his doctorate, and one who had been willing to move their wedding ceremony to Halloween night as an important date in his bride-to-be’s life besides.