The Resurrection Path
1320 Words
The house was quiet, cloaked in the thick silence of night. A single candle flickered near the open window, its flame dancing gently as if aware of the weight that hung in the air. Jane sat hunched over an old oak table, her eyes glued to the thick, weathered book that lay open before her, The Book of Shadows. Its pages crackled every time she turned one, covered in ancient runes and forgotten languages that only a few witches dared to understand. But Jane did.
Her fingers traced a circle drawn in blood-red ink, one of the forbidden spells. The Resurrection Path.
Her hood rested loosely on her shoulders, long dark hair falling around her face. The light from the candle flickered across her sharp features, but her eyes hollow and tired remained still and focused. Her lips moved silently, repeating the spell to herself over and over.
Behind her, the door creaked slightly. Catherine entered, holding two steaming cups of tea. Her steps were soft but deliberate. She paused near the threshold, watching Jane for a moment, then approached slowly.
“I brought you tea,” Catherine said gently, setting one cup beside Jane’s elbow.
Jane didn’t respond.
“You haven’t eaten since morning.”
Still nothing.
Catherine sighed and sat opposite her. “You’re not going to speak to me again?”
Finally, Jane glanced up, her eyes colder than the wind outside. “I don’t need your tea.”
“You still blame me,” Catherine murmured, “because I didn’t want you alive.”
Jane’s mouth twitched. “Is that not reason enough?”
Catherine looked down at her cup, her fingers tightening around it. “Edward believed in you. He made me see what I didn’t want to. I didn’t trust you, Jane. That’s true. But I trained you anyway, didn’t I?”
“You trained me because he begged you to,” Jane said, her voice sharp. “Not because you believed in me. Don’t pretend now.”
A heavy silence fell between them. Outside, wind brushed the windowpanes like a whisper from the dead. Catherine leaned forward slowly, eyeing the open book.
Her eyes widened.
“No,” she said softly, her voice full of dread. “Jane… no. You can’t.”
Jane turned the page slowly, her hand steady. “He died protecting me.”
“And now you want to raise him?” Catherine’s voice was rising. “You know the cost! It’s not just power—it’s soul-binding. That spell will take something from you you can’t get back.”
Jane’s eyes flared. “I’ve already lost everything.”
“You don’t mean that,” Catherine said, standing up, panic in her voice now. “This spell, this is beyond anything we’ve done. It’s dark. It’ll twist what’s left of him. You might bring Edward back, yes, but not as Edward.”
“I don’t care,” Jane whispered. “Even if he’s broken… I need him. He’s the only reason I’m alive. The only one who saw me.”
Catherine slammed her palm down on the table. The candle flickered violently.
“I won’t let you do this.”
Jane stood now too, closing the book with a dull thud. “You don’t have a say. You lost that when you tried to kill me.”
“I was wrong.”
“Too late.”
Jane grabbed the book and pulled her hood over her head. Her eyes met Catherine’s, and for the first time, Catherine saw something beyond pain, something dangerous. A mix of love and madness.
“You think you’re the only one hurting?” Catherine said bitterly. “I saw him burn too, Jane. I held my breath the moment his eyes faded. You think I don’t want him back?”
“Then don’t stand in my way.”
Catherine didn’t move. She just watched as Jane walked past her, the book tucked beneath her arm, her cloak trailing behind like a ghost in the candlelight.
At the door, Jane paused.
“When he comes back, maybe then you’ll understand what loyalty really means.”
And with that, she stepped into the night.
*********************************
Jane ran through it all—her cloak flapping behind her, her breath sharp and quick.
Branches scratched her arms. Twigs cracked beneath her feet. But she didn’t stop.
Her heart pounded, not from exhaustion, but from desperation. She clutched the Book of Shadows tightly to her chest, like it held the last thread of her sanity. As she reached the old clearing deep in the woods, she fell to her knees, panting.
This was the place.
She laid the book down carefully in the center of the clearing, brushing dead leaves away with trembling fingers. Her hands were shaking as she reached into her pouch and pulled out a small bag of salt. The ritual had to be exact. Every line, every symbol, it all had to be perfect.
But her nerves were on fire.
Her voice cracked. Her eyes watered.
“Harken ye spirits that linger in the void... Bring forth the soul bound by sacrifice... Edward…”
She swallowed.
“Edward, by the blood shared and the love sworn, I call you.”
Her voice echoed faintly in the trees, swallowed quickly by the silence.
She closed her eyes.
The wind held its breath.
Jane stood within the circle, her arms raised, her hands trembling with power and fear. She spoke the final line in a voice that shook with longing and pain.
“Return to me, Edward of the night... Return to me...”
Nothing.
She opened her eyes slowly.
The clearing was still. The circle of salt sat unbroken. The book lay quiet, its pages unmoved. Not a sound. Not a flicker of light. Not even a whisper of magic.
Her heart dropped.
She blinked, confused, then stepped back from the circle. “No... no, that’s not right.”
She picked up the book, flipping pages frantically. Her breath quickened. “I did everything right. I read it correctly—I followed every—” Her voice broke.
Jane knelt down, gathering the scattered items, her movements stiff with frustration. “You promised,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “You said love could cross death. You said…”
Her lips trembled.
But there was no answer.
The only sound was her own breathing and the quiet hush of the woods. Her fingers clutched the book tight, and with one last glance at the silent clearing, she pulled her hood over her head and walked away, leaving behind the broken circle of salt.
The woods grew still again.
But moments after she disappeared among the trees, a breeze stirred.
First soft. Then stronger.
Leaves began to swirl across the clearing, spinning slowly at first, then faster, as if drawn to the center of the forgotten circle. The trees shivered, their branches creaking low. A faint glow sparked beneath the salt, faint enough to miss, but it was there.
The wind howled once, then dropped suddenly into silence.
And the leaves kept spinning.
- Writer
