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The woods were nearly silent. Not a single leaf rustling in the wind, no owls hooting from the safety of their treetop, no audible breaths coming from the small group of hooded figures that all seemed as though they didn’t belong in the forest during these sacred hours.
The air was bitingly cold, unusually cold for an October night, and she could not prevent her body from trembling as she knelt down on the ground and stripped the velvet cloak from her shoulders, revealing her bare skin beneath.
Some would perceive her shivering as fear. Narcissa despised it.
Her husband, however, knew better than to believe her afraid as he gave her an ever-so-slight smile, tenderly stroking her reddened cheek with his heavily gloved thumb. There was the slightest hint of terror within his eyes, but mostly something that could only be described as… pride.
“The spirits have chosen you…” he whispered against her skin, tracing his wand, sharp as a dagger, almost gently over her chest.
She could feel her heart pounding heavily within her as she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to prepare to fully give herself to the darkness.
It was time. She was ready.