The Witch sat on the stone bench at the edge of her circle, staring into the fire. These last few years had all but destroyed her. Her faith and practice faded into a mere shadow of what it had once been. She had sought the help of the Shaman, out of desperation, if she was being honest. The work they’d done together thus far had been wildly successful. The skill and understanding of the Shaman had melded so seamlessly with the Witch’s natural ability for trance and affinity for shadow. The changes the soul retrieval work set off were sudden and powerful. Those who had seen her after had commented openly about how much better and more centered she seemed, body and soul. She’d felt better too. Literally something of herself she’d lost, had been returned.

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