The Death Kings

This is war. The gods await judgement. Cuffed and kneecapped. Cowed. Sliver cradles killer star. New moon blood. Washed from cut. Falls on earth as rain. ~Peter Grey~

Samhain has come with it’s somber cloven hooves taking three into the other world to prepare them for becoming Mighty Dead and mighty they will be: Nick, Peter, DRGN. The star candle is set in it’s holder awaiting a new year’s flame, the offering liquor is yet to be set to steeping, but that will happen come hell or high water, maybe both. Many things have been removed from my plate, making room for better things to come. . . there is a space held in reserve though, an untouchable space set for one unnamed thing and one unnamed thing only. I look at the skull set on my ancestor altar know one day the death gods will swallow me too, but not before my ordained time and it seems they have one. In the mean time, that one unnamed thing takes its place.

There has been much talk in certain circles about the timidity that has become witchcraft, begging for scraps at the King’s table just to be accepted into the whole of ‘acceptable society.’ What if acceptable society is something that is actually found to be truly repulsive by the standards of the right thing for the right reason? Even J.K. Rowling’s beloved character Professor Dumbledore had a few words on the subject that resonate across the generations: “there will come a time when we are going to be asked to choose between what is right and what is easy.”

It is easy to sit back and accept the poison vial to your lips as served by others. It is easy to seal those lips and not speak of the poison tasted to give warning. It is easy to do as one is told instead of acting upon one’s gut instinct about what is correct. It is easy to accept the bit and bridle and become tame for adoration and scraps. All of these things are easy and, in my observation, not worth a seat at the ‘proper’ table. What is not easy is the fight to reintroduce wolves back into the dynamic of nature, but it is the correct thing to do.The fight is still young and being decried as a mistake in certain spoiled corners. However, what we are seeing as a result of the reintroduction of a predator that keeps certain wild populations in check is this: the reshaping of rivers and the reintroduction of other natural clans in the wild: beaver people, skunk people, duck people, bird people, the fox people the and, yes with the wolf people come, the raven people too. The deer people have eaten away the land too far and the wolves must re-manage the herds and land.

Witches are wolves. We were never meant to be anything else. We dance in our own circles, we celebrate our own moons, hunt our own prey, see that which others wish to remain desperately blind, and we know one mighty thing: we have power and it is frightening. Power should be frightening, not just to those around us, but to the individual that wields it. It’s one of those fears mastered over a course of time fully knowing it is a razor’s edge, as sharp as my knife: I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. . .

Samhain comes on cloven hooves and I obediently follow the Master’s chill to talk to the Death Kings about witches and wolves.