The Goddess moves with me, silent and steady, above and below, in whispers of shadow and glow. We walk as one, hand in hand, across this land of mysteries, where magick stirs like the breath of trees.

The God strides before, carving paths unseen, His light a lantern, His life the seed of what will be again. He moves like a shadow in twilight’s grace, unfolding worlds, and casting space.

Together, we are woven—Lord, Lady, and I—through veils of mystery, beyond what mortal eyes can see. For in this sacred dance, we are bound to be more than mere flesh, transcending all human machinery.

Priest am I, and Priest I shall remain, so long as blossoms grace the orchard’s reign. For the path of the Witch is narrow and steep, a winding road only few will keep.

So draw your lot, and choose your spell; only the Witch Gods decide who they will tell. This life is not chosen by a Witch’s hand; it’s magick itself that lays the command, calling those fit to walk in its land.