Chapter 110 - Wreath-Giving

Blessed be modern technology and praise the day when humans learnt how to put satellites in Earth's orbit. If not for these and the GPS on my phone, I'd never find the way back to the camp, even if it turned out to be just ten minutes of walking away.

Ten minutes was more than enough time to get lost in a forest without a map.

With the fern flower safe in my pocket—I was afraid I would crush it, but the red petals turned out to be resilient like rubber—I returned to the camp just in time to see the sky brighten with the pre-dawn light. The celebrations winded down by now, though there was still enough going on.

Even after I left the company of spirits, my imagination kept offering me ideas for the creatures that could be hiding in the dark. Any rustle felt sinister, but now, with the sound of merry songs on the air, I felt my tense shoulders relaxing.

I rubbed my sandy eyes and went to sit next to the main bonfire, intent on waiting for the start of the Wreath-Giving in a place where I won't be able to miss it. Some witches threw me curious glances, but I imagine that my tired and gloomy figure didn't inspire conversation. No one approached me, and this was just what I wanted. People's presence helped me calm down, but I was too tired to actually interact with them.

Instead, I opened my well and tried to scan the fern flower with my aura-vision. I had half of the mind that some other witches might notice its magic on me, as I had no doubt that it would be as bright in magic-sense as it was in normal sight, but that fear was immediately assuaged by what I saw.

Oh, the fern flower was bright, that was true, but I had to watch it through my own well. With it in my pocket, my well effectively hid it from, as the practice showed me, from anyone but myself. That was good.

Then, I paid more attention to the flower itself. It certainly was not a normal flower… like what I already saw wasn't the proof enough. There were aspects for feelings in it, for—not thoughts, exactly, but something close to them—and for power. Lots of power, and of many kinds. I tried to remember what I knew from the legends about the fern flower.

It could open any lock, showed hidden treasures… and something else, a lot of something else. I couldn't distinguish much from its aspects, though. If I learnt the flower could straight out give out wishes, I wouldn't be too surprised.

It certainly was worth the trouble I went for it, and I smiled to myself. What a stroke of luck! And here I thought it was just a legend.

I left the flower alone for now and spent the rest of the time until the Wreath-Giving watching the flames and the witches and relaxing until people began to gravitate towards the main bonfire. There weren't everyone, but most, I imagined, and the witches belonging to the organising committee soon spread the participants in several small groups, surrounded by a wide circle of observers.

The biggest of the group were the witches wishing to change or join a coven. There were about twenty of us, less than I expected from a gathering that probably had at least a couple thousand of people.

The smaller groups were the representatives of the covens giving out wreaths. Each coven left between one and three people with wreaths to represent themselves, and there were about fifteen such groups. I was also glad to see the unnaturally beautiful witch amongst of such groups.

That was her, the arch-witch Sofia. She had such an impression that I only had to ask once to learn who she was. Everyone knew. I hoped she would confirm or deny whether or not I was an arch-witch myself. The anxieties about that, forgotten before under the terror of the dark woods, awoke anew in my stomach.

"The first candidate, Boris Umekov, come out and open your well," one of the organisers read out a name from a list in which we all had to register.

A witcher next to me walked towards the half-circle of watching coven representatives and closed his eyes. I did so too and saw his well expanding to its full size. Bigger than these of witches from Orion Coven, smaller than mine. I really had not much to compare with.

"Not bad. Certainly not a mutt deciding to disgrace themselves even more." I heard someone murmur next to me when I opened my eyes again. "Umekov, hm? Doesn't sound like a big clan's name. Is he a bastard?"

"If so, then he is one of the luckier ones. I don't remember hearing any scandals about his birth. He will probably be accepted just for the fresh blood alone."

Indeed, three different people walked up to the man to gift him with wreaths and speak several quiet words. In the end, Boris put on one of the wreaths and went to join the coven who gave it. Then, the organiser read the next name.

One by one, witches and witchers came out, demonstrated how big their holes were (and I got myself a few weird glances when I giggled for no visible reason because of that thought) and were accepted by one coven or another. Not everyone—some were left without wreaths and walked away, dejected.

I was second to the last when it was finally my turn. With a deep breath, I walked up towards the waiting covens and gave everyone a look. It didn't play towards me that everyone looked visibly tired after the night of debauchery, even if it didn't include any alcohol. Finally, my eyes stopped on Sofia's. Hers, despite the time of the day, were still as sharp and alert as when I saw her for the first time.

Without breaking the eye contact, I opened my well wide.