Harm none

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Be it known to all that the circle is now to be drawn,” stated the slight, robed figure as she raised her arms upward to the sky. Her dainty hands held tight to the leather bound handle of a dirk, its brightly polished blade reflecting the light of the full moon high above. “Let no one be here but of their own free will. Blessed be.”

“So mote it be” came a solemn chant in unison from the coven members gathered around her.

The air was still in the large, semi-wooded Saint Louis backyard as the Priestess slowly and purposefully drew the ceremonial knife, her athame, through the air above her, scribing a five-pointed star, starting and ending with the top point. With the imaginary Pentacle drawn, she fluidly lowered the dirk and brought her arms to rest outstretched before her and pointing to the East.

“R.J.,” she said to the young man directly before her. “Would you please light the circle candles?”

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