After being tortured by my mother and her set of dressing piens for an hour, I escaped into the backyard. Poe's screech caught my attention and I found him sitting on an open stall door of the stable. He took off, gliding away from me toward the grove of trees that sat in the middle of the Manser's land. I followed, looking forward to a chance to release some power and meditate.
The hemlock trees encircled a small clearing where a stone Altar was set up. I'd read once in one of old Stanwood books that this was the oldest relic in all of the Necromantic Families, moved only once, when the Mansers fled the Witches from their previous estate. Potted plants and flowers were placed around the wooden pillars that supported the heavy, stone slab.
I sat in the grassy clearing facing the Altar, criss-crossing my legs in front of me. Talent crawled along my arms, like thousands of tiny spiders.
Taking a deep breath, I shoved my worries about tomorrow's ceremony aside. I c
