Hexennacht (Wheel of the Year #2)

by C.M. Nascosta

He saw her exactly as she was, and the act of being seen made her feel more substantial. Less afraid to take up space in the world, and the substantiality made her more certain of her place in it.

She didn’t mind feeling like an outsider, of never fitting in . . . but the absence of belonging was like a hole within her. She may have not fit in, but she had belonged to something, once.

Death could be beautiful, she knew now. It could be peaceful and merciful, but the ugly emotions that preceded it never were. The goodbyes and the grief that followed were weights, tangible and heavy, and she knew that she would carry them forever.

I will carry you with me until there is nothing left in this world.

Foul to fair will foul again, all shall blow away. What was taken must return, and night shall steal day.

“Heavy is the head that wears the laurel of knowing,”

“It is not for us to ask why. We do not question the Fates, why they act in the way they do, why they allow us to suffer or be alone. It is not for those of us who see to ask why things are as they are, only to know they are as such for a reason.”

A witch does not walk to the noose with a lowered head and shame in her heart, for she walks with her sisters beside her.