Dakota sighed in relief as Iris picked up the (mostly) unharmed golem. "Oh, good. I was worried for a moment that I had-...I mean, that Astro had broken it." Dakota looked down at the squirming ferret sternly, before her eyes flitted back up to iris, a smile returning to her face. She nodded enthusiastically as Iris mentioned Astro, proudly lifting the struggling creature up again. "Astro's super playful. He just likes to mess around, grab small things, play with them, do all that." Dakota gestured over to Corvus the golem. "I guess he thought that your golem was a chew toy or something. He loves squeaky things. He's the best, though! You can pet him if you want! He doesn't bite!" Dakota paused for a moment, looking down at the ferret in her hands before biting her lip. "Alright, so he does bite, but normally only me. Still, he's a bit feisty today...maybe once he's more accustomed to the house and all that, you can play with him. He loves playing. I'm sure he'll get along fine with your golems once I train him not to eat them." Dakota smiled confidently at this idea, even though she knew full well that such a task would be nigh-impossible to complete. "He's really the best possible pet. He's great," she proclaimed boldly as she finally released Astro from her grip, the ferret scuttling up her arm and perching on her shoulder, his head twisting as he looked around this strange new place

"Anyway, nice seeing you again, Curly. The...denim look really suits you!" Dakota complimented, giving Iris a chipper smile before turning over her shoulder, her eyes locking with Summer's for a brief moment before wandering elsewhere. Pretending to instead focus on an owl in the distant treeline, Dakota's eyes occasionally flitted back over to Summer and company a few times, as inconspicuously as possible. She had swore that Summer had shot a look (a look not in the positive sense) over at Dakota, and she did not like that one bit. So what if her clothes weren't super formal? It was summertime in Virginia; Dakota needed clothes with some breath-ability in them. A tank top and jean shorts were both perfectly acceptable options, thank you very much. As somebody who liked to both run and fly, Dakota saw several significant issues that would come about with wearing high heels and a dress respectively. She looked perfectly neat, anyway, and she was perfectly presentable! As Dakota mulled over these thoughts, she plucked a burr that was stuck to her shirt off and tossed it away.

Her mind snapping back to present swiftly, Dakota looked back to Iris, her thoughtful frown once again being turned upside-down. "Anyway, I can't wait to see the wellspring! It sounds super cool..." Dakota trailed off a bit, before energetically adding, "And staying here all the time is going to be great too! I miss all of you guys, anyway, so it's going to be a blast to get to hang out with you! Ooh, we can be roomies and stuff! Wouldn't that be fun, me and you? Ooh, I gotta show you that hair brush that I charmed! I was gonna give it to Callie but it looks like your hair could use some straightening up too. Looks like you've been living with the wolves for a while." Dakota giggled. "Kidding! Your heart looks great. Really lovely. Seriously, though, I'm looking forward to hanging out with you! And everybody else!" She paused, sneaking a very noticeable glance at Summer before looking back at Iris. "Almost everybody else."


_{Speaks to: Iris Aderast @Blizz
Mentions: Summer Abernathy @Danvers}

”Mhm...Looking forward to it.” Iris didn’t actually *know* anything about the wellspring, since no witchling ever gets in unless it’s for one reason in particular, but all she knew was that could think of was how the wellspring had to be really important. There’s no reason the coven would go through any amount of trouble it does to protect it if that weren’t the case. ”Been waiting for this day a while, actually.” knowing full well how important this ceremony would be, Iris didn’t exactly come dressed for the occasion. She was wearing a denim coat and sweatpants, not really the first thing that comes to mind when you’re preparing for a ceremony that binds you to an esoteric source of magic energy, the likes of which Iris couldn’t even imagine. She leaned back against the porch steps she was sitting on, the night grew dimmer and dimmer as the glow of Corvus’ heart stood out more and more in his chest. Come to think of it, imagine the kind of golems you could make with that magic...

She wouldn’t bore Dakota with the details, but she pulled out a black book with a pen stuck to it to write something about that down, she also made a note to clear that idea with the elders first, wouldn’t want to piss a magical authority figure off by taking sacred energy and putting it in a tin suit, would we? The book Iris was jotting something down in resembled a fancy sketchbook, and it was filled with things pertaining to golems. The reason for this handmade guide for golems was because Iris hadn’t ever heard of any other witches practicing any kind of magic like this. She asked some of the higher up witches before, but none of them could ever give her a straight it answer, it all lead to the saying it was either impossible or it was necromancy, which was morally impossible, but they weren’t entirely right. The front of Iris’ book has a painted on image of a stick figure with what looked like charms stuck to the front somehow. Curious looking glass lenses with magical items underneath them, three in total in a triangular fashion, all the size of an eye, to keep any nasty types of creatures from getting a hold of the knowledge on how to creature a magical construct. Iris hasn’t been told by anyone that this knowledge needs to be kept secret, but she knows better than most that being able to make an extra set of hands to help you with literally anything can be problematic when your supposed enemy is trying to take the wellspring’s power.

It took a while to get here, but Isolde made it.

Two days of walking down across the Morden mountain to get to the Dying Branch coven had paid off after all, the house was nearby, and Isolde was closing in. She could see a few other witches on the steps already, presumably for the ceremony she was just in time for. The sky was dark, and the most visible thing she could see walking towards them was the blue glow of something coming from a girl’s shoulder. A familiar, perhaps? She’d have plenty of time to get to know them, no doubt. The taps on the ground from her staff companies by her footsteps were the only noise one could hear in the quiet night.

Isolde was chosen by elder witches, both from the Mordens and this coven, to become a proper witch, it was an honor from both to be given the right to come all this way and learn from one of the surrounding covens and expand her knowledge of magic. Isolde was quietly excited to be here, even if she seemed a little out of place. Shouldn’t she be looking for the elders to let them know she arrived? Well, time to make some friends. She approached the porch steps where two girls were talking, one with a book. ”Hello, is this where we’re supposed to meet?” Her voice was steady, and formal to the girls. Her staff at arm’s length, barely visible compared to the three of them in the moon’s light.

Dakota nodded in response to Iris. "Right, well, we might not have seen it, but we're going to see it very soon. Unless, I mean, we aren't. Then we won't be seeing it soon. Ooh, imagine if the wellspring was just a scam the whole time? That would be cool." Dakota smiled thoughtfully as she watched Iris remove a black book, like some type of sketchbook, and began to write in it enthusiastically sketch in it. Dakota was tempted to peak into the book and see what Iris was writing about, but she knew that it was really none of her business (Dakota would hate to accidentally stumble upon her diary), so she instead sat down next to Iris on the porch step, looking ahead absent-mindedly as Astro scuttled down from her shoulder, running down her arm and then leg before curling up and nesting on top of Dakota's sneakers. Dakota smiled as Astro curled up there, and she subconsciously leaned over, her shoulder up against Iris, and she felt her head start to lean towards her direction before she snapped awake as another witch approached them.

She was an electrifying young woman, with stark black hair and a rather pretty look about her, determination in her stance. Dakota grinned. She had good vibes from her. "Right! This is the coven house. We're meeting here in a few," Dakota explained while simultaneously distancing herself a few inches from Iris. Personal space was important. "I don't fully remember seeing you around? I'm Dakota Lawson. Or Kota." Dakota stood from the porch step, extending her hand towards the newcoming witch. "You made it just in time! We were just about to meet, and I think we're going to the wellspring soon? It's gonna be great!" Dakota bounced eagerly on her feet as she made her way down the steps. "By the way, you have, like, really nice eyes. They're so cool. All blue and stuff." She smiled genuinely at this compliment as she walked down to greet the new witch. "Oh, gosh, I can't wait for this initiation...gonna be so cool."

_{Speaks to: Iris Aderast Isolde Morden @Blizz
Mentions:}

Unbeknownst to most, Jean-Luc was in attendance the entire time. He had gotten to the gathering hours in advance, ate as soon as the food was put out, and then promptly found a nice spot to shelter in. That spot was a tall tree near the Coven House, and Jean-Luc had promptly nestled himself inside a nice space between two thick branches, resting his back against one branch and his legs against the other. He had heard two of the other girls, Dakota and Calypso, planning to scale the tree, but Jean-Luc paid them no mind. He simply continued to stare at the book in his hands, reading, as he sat comfortably in the tree. His clothes, admittedly, were not made for tree-scaling and the like. He was dressed to impress, wearing a dark navy button-down shirt and similarly-colored slacks, a leather belt with a golden skull buckle wrapped around his waist, a pair of brown loafers on his feet. It was surprising he was even able to scale the tree in the first place with such unathletic footwear, but Jean-Luc had his ways. Lastly, in his hands, was a thick, hard-covered book. It looked vintage, with a beaten black leather cover wrapped with a silky gray ribbon that hung from the cover, used to keep the book shut. A deep scarlet skull and crossbones was drawn onto the front cover, and a coat-of-arms with two tropical birds and a hibiscus engraved on the back. These were not just decorative elements, they were curses that were woven onto the book. The thick book was a collection of both Jean-Luc's various curses and personal thoughts, in essence a goldmine to his thought processes, and so he made sure the book was protected. Anybody that tried to open the book that was not authorized to do so would have...bad things happen to them.

Jean-Luc leafed through some of the pages, reading with focus, as he sat in the tree. The pages were worn and crammed with ink, Jean-Luc's scrawling handwriting filling nearly every inch of free space on the page. Jean-Luc was currently reading through a very interesting bit he had written about a special type of curse when he heard Sister Deborah speaking, immediately closing the book and looking over. So the game was finally afoot...

Jean-Luc hopped down from the tree a few moments later, with the two girls that were once planning on scaling the tree now gone. They must have found better things to do, then. It was for the best- had they gotten to the top, Jean-Luc would've certainly sent them tumbling back down. Dedication clear in his eyes, he made his way across the lawn towards the Coven House, his grimoire/diary clenched firmly in his right hand. His goal was to become a witch, and this was the day, the time, that his dream would be fulfilled. Though his unmoving features did not show it, ecstasy filled his body. He was ready.

"Li se tan..."

_{Speaks to: Himself lol
Mentions: Calypso Barnes @canaryrose, Dakota Lawson @Hitman}

As the other witchlings slowly drifted away from the table and to the house, Calypso sat in her chair and wolfed down her food. It wasn’t that she was starving, per say. She just figured that it wouldn’t be great to go to the ceremony on an empty stomach. But it also wouldn’t be great to be late either. So she ate as fast as she could, only finishing half of her plate before realizing that she was the last one at the table and that everyone had started congregating on the porch. She blinked and glanced down at her plate, stomach roiling. Am I ready? She didn’t know if she was, but she had to be. Or else… she didn’t know what else. This was her life, her purpose. If she wasn’t a good witch, what was she? On the drive to the coven property, Calypso had done some tarot readings for herself, and the results had been a bit… mixed. She was self-aware enough to know that, even with magic involved, the readings weren’t always the most accurate… but it was still concerning.

The last person at the table, Calypso stood from her seat and tossed her plate in the garbage can. She walked over to the porch. She waved at the other witchlings standing and chatting before going up the steps herself and sitting down in a cushioned wicker chair by the window. Being a little too nervous to join in on any specific conversations, she kind of just sat and listened to everybody else talk. It was really just normal conversation for the most part. Summer was being snide, Charlie was trying his best to counter her, and Dakota and Iris were messing around with each other. Kate was trying to freak Rowan out, and there was some… new girl? Calypso blinked and leaned forward a bit, interest piqued. Two new people in one day- in a community that rarely accepted outsiders. That was unusual, to say the least of it.

Before Calypso could introduce herself and possibly interrogate this new girl with the stick, however, the front door opened up and a woman popped her head out. It wasn’t Sister Deborah- rather, it was one of the younger elders named Sister Lark. The woman smiled warmly at the witchlings. She would’ve waved if she could, but she was carrying what looked like a stack of black clothes in her arms, similar to the robe she herself was wearing.

“Isolde!” she said, smiling at the girl with the stick. “You made it just in time, sweetheart. We were starting to get worried you wouldn’t make it before we set off.” After speaking exclusively to Isolde, the woman then seemed to remember herself and turned to the congregated group. “You guys all know me of course, but this is Isolde Morden.” She gestured to Isolde with her otherwise occupied hands. “She’s from one of the… independent witch families. They have a wellspring of their own, but Isolde decided she wanted to join us instead. Give her your warmest welcome, please!”

Lark paused for a moment, smiling, and then launched into something else. “Well, let’s get this show on the road! What I have here in my hands is the coven’s ceremonial robes. You don’t have to take off your clothes or anything, but you’re going to put these on over your clothes for the ritual.” She held out the stack of robes, waiting for everyone to take one.

Calypso shuffled forwards first, taking one and muttering a thanks to Lark. Then, she unfolded it and shrugged it on. It… wasn’t that bad! Loose and baggy, sure, and the sleeves extended a bit past her wrists, but it looked… witchy? It was black with white markings, and covered her entire body. She fastened the row of buttons going about a quarter way down the robe, fumbling with them before finally getting it right. Fully buttoned up, the robe started at her collarbones and hit at the ankle, covering up Calypso’s entire outfit. It wasn’t too flattering, but it was a tradition, apparently.

While everyone was putting on their robes, Lark spoke up again. “Oh, and since I’ve gotten everyone’s attention, we can’t bring any of our personal things to the wellspring. That includes bags, phones, and any magical items. Oh, and familiars. That goes for you especially Dakota, you can’t bring Astro. Put your things by the door, and you can get them once we come back.” She gestured to a spot next to the front door, and waited for everyone to put their things there. Lark especially eyed Uaithne, with his giant bag full of weapons. Calypso took her phone out of her pocket and unclasped a pendulum from her neck and put the two on a small end table next to a chair.

As everyone put all their things down, Lark watched in silence. “Well, if that’s it, then I guess we’re ready to get this thing on the road! Woo!” she said, once everything had been put down. “I’m going to head inside and get the other elders so we can get going down the trail. If you still have anything in your pockets, take it out! Please and thank you.” At that, she disappeared into the house again, seemingly to get a few other elders.

A few minutes later, she reappeared with two other people in the same robes as her. An older, gray-haired and stern-faced man named Lucien and a middle-aged looking woman named Claudia. As far as Calypso could remember, neither was particularly important in the grand scheme of things, just like Lark. Of course, each was a member of the Elders’ Council, but neither was particularly high-ranking. But they were important enough to escort them to the wellspring.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve all met Brother Lucien and Sister Claudia before… or if you haven’t, I guess you have now. Now that we have you all ready, we can start walking down to the wellspring,” Lark said. She grabbed a lantern from a hook on the porch. With a few muttered words, its fire flickered to life. The porch lights were on, so it didn’t do much to light up the area, but it would probably illuminate a fair amount of the trail. She also lit two other lanterns and gave one each to the other elders. “It’s going to be a long walk, and it’s nearly dark,” she explained. “Now, let’s go!”

With that, Lark turned around and started to walk towards the forest. Calypso followed close behind. At first, it seemed like she was walking right towards a giant oak tree- which was certainly confusing. Calypso herself raised a brow, about to mention something. Then, Lark spoke an incantation under her breath. The illusion of the thick undergrowth vanished, and in front of the group appeared a thin opening into what appeared to be a skinny dirt path cutting downhill and through the forest. Lark turned to the group of initiates and gestured for them to follow her- and then entered the forest.

Calypso followed, but quickly realized that the path was not suitable for anything but single-file walking, and the group of witchlings was in a disorganized blob of people at that moment.Once they had all organized themselves into a single-file line, the group went through the first fluidly. Lark and the two other elders held lanterns aloft at the beginning, middle, and end of the line. As the lights from the party and the house faded, Calypso grew grateful for the lanterns. The trees blocked any of the remaining light of the sun from lighting their way down the mountain, and by god was the trail steep.

The walk took about 30 minutes. For the most part, Calypso was quiet as she went down the trail. Although there was definitely some chatter from the other witchlings, she was uncharacteristically silent. Walking to the wellspring really cemented it in place for her- it was her time. Her place, her day. She contemplated this reality in her head, the reality that she was about to become what she had always wanted to be. And she was scared. Excited, yes, but scared.

As they walked, the scenery around them began to change. A witch good with magical energy would begin to sense the air around them… shifting. It became heavy with magic, however that particular witch might interpret that. Calypso felt a heavy feeling like a weighted blanket settle over her, as well as a tickle in the back of her nose. Plants were larger and stranger, and psychedelic flowers started to pop up along the path. The soil grew darker and richer, and strange sounds echoed from the depths of the forest. The noises of rushing water became apparent as they walked down the path, and grew louder and louder until the path opened up and into the wellspring.

For a single moment, its majesty stole Calypso’s breath. The wellspring was a lake, which she had already, but its pure blue waters looked out of place in this world. It looked like water, yes, but it shone with something other. She could smell the magic in the air, feel it heavy on her skin. It smelled like a basket of fresh strawberries, or a bushel of roses. Enchanting and powerful. Mountains rose up all around the lake, concealing it from the world. Ancient knotted trees stood tall and mighty next to the lake, their branches vigorous with life. Water lilies of vibrant, unearthly colors dotted the surface of the lake, and reeds grew up along the sides. It was almost something out of a fairy tale. A buoying sense of wonder rose in her chest, and a smile bloomed on her face. She could see why they protected this place. It was truly something else.

Sister Deborah stood in front of the lake, hands clasped neatly in front of her. She stared at the group with a warm smile on her face. “I would like to first say,” she started, voice firm and confident, “that I am so proud of you all. Really. You have chosen to take the next step in your lives as witches of this coven- bonding to our wellspring. It’s a remarkable, crucial choice, and one that will shape the rest of your life. Taking on this kind of power and duty is not something to be scoffed at. But you are doing so today with the full knowledge of the magnitude of it in your hearts. Today you cross the threshold from witchling to witch, from child to adult. Congratulations!”

“The bonding ritual is one of our most sacred rituals,” she continued. “It is a well-kept secret, which is why I am just telling you about the specifics of it now. As witches, you are expected to never expunge the secrets of our ways. This is one of them.” She gave a meaningful stare to the group for a long moment, and then gestured to the ground behind her.“Step forward, please, and kneel on the pillows we’ve set up for you.”

Calypso stepped forward and up to the shore of the lake. There were red, tasseled pillows lying on the shoreline- one for each of them. Laid next to each of them was a vial full of assorted herbs and a dagger. Calypso knelt on one, eyeing the dagger suspiciously. What would they need a knife for? But she folded her hands anyways and raised her head to listen to Sister Deborah.

Calypso could see the elders behind them shift to face the wellspring and the backs of the initiates. She gulped- even Lark’s generally cheery face had turned solemn. “In front of you, there is a cup full of herbs with special, magical properties and a ceremonial dagger.” Sister Deborah stepped forward to take the knife from Calypso’s area, leaning over the girl to get it. “I want you to fill the cup with water from the wellspring. And then you’ll take the knife and… well, I’ll demonstrate.” She backed up a few paces, still holding Calypso’s knife. Then, while everyone was watching, she took the dagger and dragged it across the inside of her wrist. She didn’t cut herself- but the intent was clear. “Then you will let the blood drip from your wrist into the cup, mix it together, and drink the mixture. You’ll also let some of the blood drip into the wellspring.” She smiled thinly. “It will hurt, but afterwards you can heal it yourself. Now, when you drink the mixture… well, it always has some odd effects. But after this, you’ll be able to call on the power of the wellspring to perform magic. I am excited to see what you’ll do with its power-”

“Um, Sister Deborah? I have a question.” Calypso interrupted Sister Deborah and raised her hand, sweating profusely. Her hand shook a bit.

Sister Deborah grit her teeth. Her eyes flicked to Calypso. “Yes, Ms. Barnes? You know that it’s rude to interrupt someone while they’re speaking.”

Calypso’s eyes went wide. She gulped. “Oh, well… you know, I was wondering…” Her voice squeaked. “If there was maybe another way to do this? I mean, like, w-without the… the blood?” She giggled and offered a nervous smile.

That smile was met with a furious glare. Calypso wilted under Deborah’s fury. From behind Deborah, she saw Lark silently gasp and motion for her to cut it out.

“You would like me to- hold on. You want me to find another way to do this ancient, sacred ritual so that you don’t have to see blood?!” Her voice shook with anger as she walked forward to wag her finger at Calypso.

“N-no! Of course not, m-ma’am, I just… you know. I just wonder… is it sanitary?” Calypso was not in fact thinking about how clean the knife was- rather, she was thinking about her crippling fear of blood. One of two things happened when Calypso saw blood: she either fainted or hurled. And she wasn’t quite in the mood to do either today. Just the thought of blood made her feel faint around the edges, like she was now. She was feeling the fullness of her stomach acutely at the moment, and was not a fan.

Sister Deborah made a noise halfway in between a scream and a groan. She pressed the dagger into Calypso’s hand with force. “Just do it. I promise you won’t die, okay?” With that, she stepped back. She smoothed her robes and her expression back into something resembling calm and happiness, and took a breath while Calypso tried not to cry. “Please feel free to get started now. If anything happens while you’re… doing the ceremony, we’ll be here to take care of it.”

Calypso held the dagger in her shaking hands. It’s okay. You can do this. You’ve got this! You’re almost a witch- you won’t let a bit of blood get you down! She took a deep breath. Then another. She grabbed the cup with her left hand and dipped it into the wellspring, making sure to fill it high. The water shone and sparkled in the cup, but also shook along with Calypso’s hands. It smelled of magic, but she couldn’t really appreciate that right now.

Calypso had to close her eyes before she dragged the dagger along her wrist. The pain was slow to come at first. She didn’t open her eyes, just thrust out her wrist to where she thought that the lake might be and let it stay there until a sudden, stinging pain bloomed on her wrist and she thought it might’ve dribbled into the water. Then she took her wrist back and slowly opened her eyes to the sight of a bloody mess. Her vision went black around the edges, and she had to put one of her hands down to stabilize herself at the sight of it. She made a noise halfway between a whimper and a yelp. This was why she never did healing magic. Aiming to keep her eyes open for as little time as possible, she extended her wrist over the cup and then closed them tight again. She only opened them again once she thought there might be enough blood in there, she closed her eyes tight and yanked her wrist out of her sight, only opening it once it was behind her back. Calypso stared at the glass of now bloody magic water, face turning a green shade. God, she had to drink that.

She didn’t think she would make it. Reluctantly, she picked up the cup, fighting back the urge to regurgitate her dinner. And then, she tilted it bak and chugged.

The change was immediate. She barely made it through the first sip before feeling a sudden burst of magic energy, an ethereal feeling. That feeling you get when you’re dropped on a rollercoaster, or when you swing as high as you can. The potion was bitter, irony, and salty going down, but it gave her such a good feeling. Her head cleared and her fingers grew tingly, and she could swear she was floating on a marshmallow cloud for that moment. This wouldn’t be nearly as bad as she has thought, she thought.

But once she finished off the cup, something violent ran through her. Chaotic and beautiful and horrible and… oh God. Her vision was fading, blacking out. Foreign power swept through her, and her muscles shook involuntarily. The cut wasn’t even the worst of it anymore. Now, it was… everything. Everywhere and nowhere all at once, like a magical ache. Vaguely, in the back of her pain-filled mind, she thought that her body was trying to reject the wellspring’s power- it did that to most foreign substances, right? But why would she reject the wellspring’s power? It was supposed to help, not make her feel like this. But it did. Her eyes shined white like a flickering lightbulb at different moments, making her feel even worse.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to her but was probably only 15 seconds, the pain stopped and her body returned to semi-normal, but with a strange, different feeling. Once she was sure that she was normal again, she shakily stood from the ground, clasping her bloody wrist in her hand. She did not feel good. That had been an intense, strange, bad experience. The nausea was still there, but she didn’t feel like she was about to die anymore. Which was… good. Calypso glanced around at the other initiates. There was one girl laying face down in the water (which was weird), but other than that, everybody seemed okay.

Calypso glanced at her wrist, which she was hoping had miraculously healed. It had not, and another wave of nausea raced through her. Instead of healing, her entire forearm was covered in bloody streaks, and so was her right hand. Physically unable to contain her dinner anymore, Calypso leaned over and… vomited. All over her robe and the ground. She came up for air after a few seconds of horrendous retching to the sight of Sister Deborah looking at her, disgusted.

“Sorry,” she muttered, and then leaned over to hurl some more.