All Empires Fall Eventually. It Is The

You May Tell A Tale That Takes Up Residence In Someone's Soul, Becomes Their Blood And Self And Purpose. That Tale Will Move Them And Drive Them And Who Knows That They Might Do Because Of It, Because Of Your Words. That Is Your Role, Your Gift.

I Don’t Have The Time To Devote To Circles Or Covens. I Have To Fit Things In When And Where I Can, In Stolen Moments And Cups Of Coffee. Stirring Clockwise To Conjure. Widdershins To Banish. There’s Never Enough Time, And Rarely Enough Caffeine, But I Make Do With What I Have. Besides, Cauldrons And Pointy Hats Are Overrated. Sometimes I See Other Customers Practicing. Pouring Their Cream And Sugar With Studied Intent. Stirring With Purpose. I Add An Extra Spoonful Of Sugar To My Own Coffee For Them, To Make All Of Our Enchantments Sweeter.

She Turns Her Head, Bailey Catches Her Eye, And She Smiles At Him. Not In The Way That One Smiles At A Random Member Of The Audience When One Is In The Middle Of Performing Circus Tricks With Unusually Talented Kittens But In The Way That One Smiles When One Recognizes Someone They Have Not Seen In Some Time.

Most Maidens Are Perfectly Capable Of Rescuing Themselves In My Experience, At Least The Ones Worth Something, In Any Case.

And Now, I'm A Best Selling Author, A Different Sort Of Fairy Tale That I Still Sometimes Wonder When I'll Wake Up From.