Rain battered my apartment windows, the storm outside a wild, howling thing that made my small urban sanctuary feel like a fortress against the world. I sat cross-legged on my living room floor, wearing nothing but an oversized black t-shirt that barely reached my thighs, my dark hair spilling loose over my shoulders.
The air smelled of damp wood and the vanilla candle flickering on my coffee table, casting jittery shadows across the room. In my hands was a leather-bound book I’d picked up at a flea market that morning—an impulse buy, its pages yellowed and etched with strange symbols. I thought it was just some occult novelty, but boredom and the storm’s restless energy had me flipping through it, reading aloud words I didn’t understand.
"By the flame and shadow, I call thee forth..."
