It is now the time of fire and flame, the time to celebrate the high feast of Beltane. As one of the last of a long line who truly remembers the old ways, one of the last of our kind, I stand at the edge of the ritual circle with my athame in hand, as I chant the words.

“Mother of life and of us all, we welcome you.”

Across the fire, you my priest await me with fiery eyes. Tonight, I am your priestess, the goddess to your god, golden light flickering in your dark eyes, dark and fiery both, with passion, with the ritual we will soon celebrate here, beneath the new moon.

It is an auspicious night and perhaps we will finally – by the will of the Goddess – conceive a child. If at any time, then now, we will. It has been hard, would be hard if we were both human, but I am half-flame, barely mortal and you are of the other realm, the unseen one. Perhaps this will be the year we manage, and if so, what will our children be like?

…

I am now really lagging on these, sorry. It has been a long week. Next week, I hope to go back to more specific names. This story references Celtic mythology and practices and adds a twist of an ifrit, maybe, inhuman beings of flame that are more Middle Eastern I think.

Hope everyone has/had a great weekend.