Jupiter and Venus aligned, the Moon new, the Solstice arrived. The dancers, carrying lanterns, weaved intricate patterns under the cloudless sky. They chanted and sang in a language long dead, an eerily hypnotic rhythm that moved limbs when exhaustion would prevent it.
Focusing on the tower of wood in the centre, the focal point, the dancers’ voices were joined with an unnatural sensation of sound, syrupy, clinging. Falling to the ground, lights pulsing inwards, the bonfire sprang into life and from it emerged Maven, goddess of the night.
“Oi, what a journey! I need a bath! And a scented loofa!”
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