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The library had closed at its typical time of ten in the evening, allowing Julia to invite her assistants for a private archival workshop.
The British Museum had reached out, offering a collection of Celtic and Pictish magical materials for temporary cataloguing. Stone rubbings, ogham staves, rowan charms, well-water vessels, and fragments of old ritual records.
It was an ordinary night, one she anticipated to be uneventful, guiding her students in archiving and interpreting records and artifacts they normally wouldn't have the opportunity to work with.
As the woman stood in the center of the library, surrounded by her assistants, the environment began to change. Shelves became standing stones, the floor grew damp with moss, blue-green flame swallowed the orange of every candle. The air smelt of rain, iron, fern and old smoke while the symbol of Ogham appeared across the gate to what was the Restricted Section.
Her eyes followed each unexpected change, her wand slipping into her hand as her sleeping infant remained content in the wrap she wore at her chest. "Remain calm," she said softly at the startled murmurs that inevitably rose among her group, "It seems one of our objects has been misconstrued as 'decorative'."
She moved quickly among the tables that remained holding the artifacts and texts, her gaze searching for the errant piece, before it fell upon a strange-looking rubbing.
Her eyebrows came together in consternation as she noticed it had been place beside the wrong ogham stave.
"It's reconstructing an old rite," she murmured as her students gathered around her. How wonderfully fascinating - and dangerous if not handled correctly.
"This was made by a Pictish magical community to seal a threshold wound," she explained as she studied the rubbing a little closer, "Likely a place where grief, bloodshed and broken pacts had made the boundary between the living world and older magic unstable."
But it was incomplete. For some reason, the ancient magic users had failed to close the ceremony, and the rubbing was now calling out for help.
"We'll need to finish out the ritual in order for this magic to find peace, and in order for all of us to find our beds tonight."
She indicated for each of them to take a place so they could begin.
"Each of you will have a separate role. A name-giver, a witness, one to make an offering, one to set a boundary, a candle-keeper, an archivist and finally, someone to release the ritual. Make your choice now and we'll begin."
As the students took their places, soft whispers in an ancient language began tickling their ears.
OOC: For context, and a little history lesson:
Pictish symbol stones often included motifs like the crescent (V-Rod), serpent (Z-Rod) and double-disc (Z-Rod). Their exact meanings are still debated, which gives us some good room for IC magical interpretation.
Ogham is an early alphabetic script made of strokes or notches, historically used on stone monuments and traditionally associated with wood.
Rowan is strongly tied to protection folklore.
Sacred or holy wells in Ireland and Britain have layered associations with healing, offerings, saints and possibly older pre-Christian practice.
Instructions:
Choose one role for your character and use this code to begin your post:
Code:
[div style="display:block; padding:25px 20px 30px;"][/div][center][span style="font-size:40px; line-height:100%;"][gfont=Hourglass]Role Selection[/gfont][/span][/center]
You can find each role's instructions here. Your post must be submitted no later than July 19, 2026 in order to pass LA. You may choose any role you like, as long as it has not already been chosen by a previous poster. The sooner you post, the more likely you are to get the role you want!
Name-Giver
Student Role: Identify what the binding record wants to be called.
You are assigned to the Pictish rubbing itself. You are not translating it - Julia makes that clear. The meanings of the symbols are uncertain and Julia believes old magic is often relational rather than literal. You are trying to observe what the symbol responds to.
Object: A rubbing showing a serpent (Z-Rod) beside a crescent (V-Rod).
You will compare the symbol rubbing to the archive lable and realize the label is wrong. It doesn't behave like a decoration, rather a record. You may trace over the symbol with a gloved finger, hold it near candlelight, or speak the false catalogue title aloud and notice how the magic rejects it.
Try three possible names:
"Protective Charm"
"Binding Record"
"Sacrificial Hex"
The first makes the candle flame bend. The second makes the stone-rubbing pulse once, like a heartbeat. The third makes the room area grow frightfully cold.
This will tell you which name it prefers. Speak it out loud, two more times. DM me before you post so I can tell you if you are correct or not and give you the result to include in your post.
The Witness
Student Role: Find who or what originally witnessed the oath.
You are assigned to the parallel inscriptions table. You will received several copied rubbings and fragments with similar symbols:
One has a mirror and comb symbol
One has a salmon beside a crescent mark
One has ogham strokes along the border
You will compare recurring symbols and notice the same mark appears on all of them: a small eye-shaped notch near the edge. Julia will explain to you that some bindings require a witness: a person, place, spirit, community or element that remembers the oath.
Line up the three copies. When aligned, you'll notice the eye-shaped notch becomes a single larger symbol. A water bowl nearby reacts at the same time, rippling even though no one touched it.
What does that tell you about who the witness was? DM me and I'll tell you if your answer is correct or incorrect and what your success signal will be so you can finish out your post.
The Offering
Student Role: Determine what must be given to complete the rite.
You are assigned to the offering tray. Julia has laid out safe symbolic offerings to include:
A rowan berry - reaction: flame steadies
A hazelnut - reaction: whispers sharpen
A bent iron pin - reaction: the moss recoils from the table
A scrap of undyed wool - reaction: the water bowl clouds
A small beeswax taper - reaction: the candle flames turn from blue-green to gold for a moment
A pinch of hearth ash - reaction: the standing stone shelves groan softly
A ribbon of red thread - reaction: the ogham on the gate brightens
You will test which offering the binding accepts by placing items one at a time near the water bowl or at the base of the rubbing - your choice. The correct offering is not one item, it is a combination.
When you think you have your combination, place them on the tray before one of the candles, and DM me for success or failure and reaction before you post.
The Boundary
Student Role: You are assigned to the Restricted Section gate where ogham has appeared as a glowing line around it.
You are not banishing the magic, you are simply drawing a boundary so the ritual can complete safely inside the room. Julia tells you, "Teach this room where the boundary is." You should place rowan twigs at four points within the room, and then connect them with red thread or chalk that has been provided. It is up to you to figure out what four points in the room make the most sense. Stones? Tables? The water bowl? The stone rubbing in question? The candles? A combination?
Then you'll repeat the following command that Julia has given you:
'This room is the vessel. This threshold is the edge. Nothing leaves unfinished."
DM me for results prior to posting, and I will provide you the reaction you can add to your post.
The Release
Student Role: Speak the honest answer the ritual needs.
This is an emotional role. This role is best for a student/writer who likes character introspection. The ritual can't close with Latin, technical casting, or cleverness.
You will look into the water bowl and see something personal. It can be simple, or something profound to your character. Homesickness, guilt, loneliness, fear, envy, love, grief, ambition, etc.
The binding is old oath-magic so it asks for honest. Julia will tell you, "It does not require confession, only truth."
You must answer one of these prompts aloud:
"What are you holding that is no longer yours to keep?"
"What promise has become a prison?"
"What must be remembered without being relived?"
"What can be released without being betrayed?"
Choose one answer and speak it plainly in a simple sentence. DM me before you post for success outcomes that you can add to your post.
The Candle Keeper - Intended for Lower Level Students
Student Role: You are an observer.
You will monitor the blue-green flames and record when they change color. Your job is to notice emotional shifts in the room. When someone gets close to the truth, the flames turn gold. When someone guesses wrong, they burn low and green.
It is best, if you prefer this role, to wait until a few people have posted so you can react to their outcomes. You can RP the candles going out when someone gets something wrong, relighting them with other candles, not your wand. You will observe and make note of how others are handling their tasks.
The Archivist - Intended for Lower Level Students
Student Role: You will write notes as the room changes, led by an enchanted quill in your hand. Your parchment records not what people say, but what the magic means. It is best, if you prefer this role, to wait until all roles have posted so you can react to their outcomes.
Your notes will produce the final order of the ritual:
Maevie was utterly fascinated by this woman and the things she taught, even outside of class like tonight. It was as though Mrs. Barlowe was a treasure trove of history and dark magic, a true witch. Although sometimes surrounded by this chilling air of inexplainable acuity, as though she simply knew — like, in general — Maevie was captivated by every kernel of information she gave.
Today was no different.
Despite the fact she’d grown a little lax with her library duties lately, having received her fair share of warnings and reprimands, tonight Maevie had been early. Now she was gathered around the woman alongside the other assistants, eyes growing wide as saucers as suddenly their surroundings began to change. Moss crawled over the stone floor, shelves changed shapes, turning into large stones that reached towards the ceiling, lights flickered and tinged the space blue-green. A smell like nature interlaced with mystery permeated the air and above the Restricted Section a symbol appeared.
Maevie’s hand shot out, grabbing the next person by the sleeve of their robes.* “Oh my God,” she breathed, utterly enthralled. “It’s an ancient curse! Maybe a ghost that was trapped and is coming back for revenge.”
"It's reconstructing an old rite."
"Or that." Ah, well. Close enough. Finishing out a ritual from centuries ago sounded amazing too, and Maevie eagerly declared herself willing and ready. “I’ll be the name-giver!”, she said immediately, not even knowing what that was but that was secondary. Mrs. Barlowe explained and once she thought she got the gist if it, Maevie got to work.
The Pictish rubbing looked like any other they’d been cataloguing but clearly something had to be off. When she compared the label, it didn’t fit, and as she muttered to herself, the word ‘decoration’ seemed to elicit a shift in the rubbing’s magic, an outward pulse like a rejection.
Trying to recall what Mrs. Barlowe had taught them, Maevie tapped her fingers on the wooden table she was working at, throwing ideas at random. The woman had said to figure out what the symbols responded to and ‘decoration’ definitely hadn’t been the right thing.
After a moment, Maevie tried the first thing that came to mind. “Errr…Protective Charm?” A nearby candle reacted, the small flame forming an odd bend that couldn’t be natural. Huh. Maybe? Maybe not.
“Hmm Sacrificial Hex?”, she said next, brows raising in question as though the rubbing would actually speak to her. But instead of speaking, a frigid cold blew through the room, sending a shiver down her spine and an apologetic expression over her face.
Definitely not.
Thinking, she rummaged through the clutter of her brain until another term plopped up, voice a little apprehensive in case the next thing they’d get hit with might be fire rain or something. “Binding Record?” But nothing dramatic of the sort happened. A singular pulse, coming from the rubbing itself, no more.
Well, that was probably the best it would get, so Maevie followed her earlier instructions and repeated the name twice more, fingers crossed.
The whispers that had begun to murmur with the room’s changes cleared for one brief moment. "Not warning. History.” Maevie snapped her head around to where Mrs. Barlowe stood. “Did you hear that? Did I do it? I think I did it. Binding Record. It’s a binding record.”
When a smile crossed the woman’s lips and a confirmation followed, Maevie grinned like she just solved mankind’s greatest riddle. “Yesss!”, she said, punching both first straight into the air, looking around at her study mates. “Not warning. History,” she repeated the whispers’ message with enthusiasm. “Whatever that means!”
Working in the library was a test of patience. Sometimes, it was great. A quiet evening, respectful Ravenclaws who know how to find their own stuff. Awesome. A night where the tasks were complete and homework could be worked on. Amazing. A busy day with a bunch of loud younger years freaking out over upcoming tests? Kill me now.
Nights like tonight were different. The entire library assistant roster was present, working on a project with Julia. Even little Jude was here, Matilda itching to steal him for some much needed snuggles.
There were artifacts brought in from The British Museum and they were tasked with cataloging. Easy enough.
Famous last words.
"Remain calm," Julia said, when the room started to change. Matilda was pretty sure this was not the first time the woman had uttered the words. "It seems one of our objects has been misconstrued as 'decorative'."
"We'll need to finish out the ritual in order for this magic to find peace, and in order for all of us to find our beds tonight."
Rituals… Fabulous.
"Each of you will have a separate role. A name-giver, a witness, one to make an offering, one to set a boundary, a candle-keeper, an archivist and finally, someone to release the ritual. Make your choice now and we'll begin."
There were whispers, the words were muttered quietly and nearly impossible to make out. She tried to ignore it, choosing to focus on the artifacts and what they could mean.
Looking over the artifacts on the table in front of her, Matilda looked closely without touching anything at first. Bending over, getting up close and personal with the items, she tried to decipher what they might be used for.
A few details stood out. A strange mirror and comb like symbol. Another had a fish beside what looked like a crescent moon. And another had the ogham marks they had been discussing earlier when their tasks started.
Julia stopped by her table and explained that a Witness was required for many rituals. It was her job to figure out who might have been the witness for this particular ritual. With that information in mind, she kept examining the artifacts.
As Matilda looked over each item, she noticed a small eye-shaped notch near the edge of each one.
Moving the items around, she aligned the three items at the point of the eye-shaped notch and watched as the symbol melded and became larger. Standing back, watching the magic happen, she waited to see what else might be triggered. No loud sound or alarms, but on a nearby table, a small bowl with water inside began rippling. Considering there was no earthquake, no one walking near it and no loud rowdy students, she had to deduce that her manipulation of the artifacts caused the ripples.
Thinking about the why, she looked at the symbols. The salmon spoke to water. The mirror, a shiny surface could allude to water, and the ogham in a round shape pointed to wood. It didn’t come to her right away, but after putting the artifacts together with the bowl of water, it made her think of a well of water.
”Julia, looking over the items and seeing how the bowl of water reacted, I think water is key. Taking it all in, the round structure and the water, I think the witness may have been a well.”
She didn’t notice what was happening at first, but as the moss on the ground began to grow up towards the bowl she couldn’t help but watch in awe. The whispers quieted as Julia looked over what she had found. Thankfully, it seemed like she did well, which made her happy. That wasn’t all the case.
“History requires memory to exist.” Matilda pondered this simple statement. It was true. Without memory, there would be no history, no past, no learning from your mistakes.
Watching those around her, Matilda waited, just in case she was needed to help with another area.
If you tell a redheadNOTto do somethingShe’ll do itTWICE
His mum always had weird jobs or tasks for him. If it wasn't helping clean out her apothecaries or scrubbing down angry baubles, it was some weird ritual shit that Benji couldn't wrap his head around.
They were wizards, yes. Descended from old magic people called the Celts and Norse and Picts and whoever else was out there - likely countless different tribes and groups - but they were living in the modern age. Why did they need to fuss over ancient rites and blood magic and healing springs and antiquated processes when a flick of a wand would surely suffice?
Since having given up her Dark Arts position, now his mum saw it fit to torture her library assistants instead. Which included a very unwilling Benji.
He stood at the long table, looking over the artifacts and texts his mother had laid out for them to sort through and decipher. Why Julia thought he'd be a good candidate to do all this, he didn't know, but here he was. Groaning his displeasure for everyone to hear.
As though recognizing that Benji was entirely too bored, the room suddenly began to change. The scent of earth and rain filled the air, shelves becoming upright stones and moss growing beneath their feet.
"We'll need to finish out the ritual in order for this magic to find peace, and in order for all of us to find our beds tonight."
Great, because Benji didn't have other plans for the evening.
Julia had placed an assortment of random junk in front of him, indicating he needed to figure out what the correct offering(s) were that this ritual would accept. For some reason, simply placing a string on the offering plate and calling it a day wouldn't satisfy whatever magic had caused this.
Benji wasn't unintelligent, but he wasn't a great thinker either - unless it was something he was deeply invested in - and this whole thing was already summoning a headache he'd have to relieve with a long night of sleep.
One at a time, his mother instructed. See how the environment reacts to each offering. Tedious. Ridiculous. He'd do what he had to do to get the hell out of here. One by one, Benji placed each little offering onto the tray and observed.
First, the hazelnut. As Benji's hand dropped the nut onto the offering tray, the whispers that had been floating around the room, sharpening into an almost determined manner. They seemed more urgent, direct. Not in a way that he needed to remove it, but in an almost insistence that the hazelnut remain.
Next the iron pin and wool. Almost at once, the moss beneath his feet recoiled swiftly, and the water bowl clouded in a green, swampy way. Benji's nose curdled for a moment, removing both. He doubted the ritual wanted things that obviously disgusted it.
A few more items, more displeased reactions. Nothing seemed to satisfy until -
The candle flames steadied and the symbol of Ogham on the RS door glowed. Benji glanced down, his eyes tracing over the combination of rowan berry, hazel nut and the red string. He didn't know what any of it meant or what it was supposed to do, but the ritual seemed...happier?
Placing the berry and hazelnut together, the red string suddenly jumped from the tray and knotted the two together. Well, if that wasn't an answer, then he didn't know what he was looking for. His mum paused, placing her hand on his shoulder as she nodded her approval.
“Not payment. Recognition. There is a difference.”
Benji stared at her for a moment and then grinned across the table at Matilda as Julia wandered down the row of assistants again. "What the fuck does that mean?"
The final hospital wing shift of the night was over, and while Rae had been reluctant to leave, the prospect of having somewhere else to be helped. In this case, it was the library. For whatever reason, Julia had decided to have a meeting late at night, and while there were volunteers who'd walked into the library with her rubbing their eyes and grumbling about sleep, Ruth Anaya was wide awake. It was only after 11, and for the girl, who'd spent so many years roaming while most slept, her night was only getting started.
At this time of the night, Rae let herself believe that there was no way they were just stacking books. It just wasn't possible. The cover of night – special permission for everyone to be out after curfew? Something had to be up.
When she found out it was...things from a museum, some of that enthusiasm died.
If she wanted them dusting and organising, it really could have waited until morning. Her mind had begun to drift through Julia's lecture, coming back only when the room began to vanish. Suddenly, she had every reason to pay attention. The library had faded, and they'd been drawn into some sort of ritual.
It was all very fitting for the former Dark Arts professor.
Right then.
There was only one role for her. "I'll set the boundary," Rae declared, wanting to make sure no one else got any ideas. The only roles seemed well and good but this was the one that felt tailor-made for a girl who'd learned very early how to say no and to make sure it became everyone's business when her refusals were ignored. One might say that it was her strongest suit, sometimes to the point of overcorrection, but, for her, there was no such thing as a boundary that was too strong.
"Teach this room where the boundary is."
...Teach...the room? In her mind, when Julia had mentioned boundaries, Rae imagined the role might have been more...active. Fighting off things that tried to get in, blasting things that didn't know their place. This...she supposed she could do this, too.
Rae looked around, taking in the stark difference of the environment. No walls to make natural boundaries. Moss where there used to be carpet. The restricted section's gate remained with ogham. It was still changing, slipping further and further from the room they'd all gathered in. Someone had to stabilise it, and that would be her. She paused a moment, trying to define the anchor points. Dark eyes drifting across several surfaces. If she wanted to prevent the room from turning them into an ancient people that disappeared then...
Hmm...
Taking the rowan twigs, Rae set out on a deliberately slow walk, considering each place her eyes landed. The gate to the restricted section was first and felt the most obvious to her. The girl's brows knitted as she went, her mind sometimes causing her to doubt her choices but in the end, she placed the rowan in another three locations: one by the bowl of water, another by the shelves that had become stone and the final one by the window. She connected them each with red thread, learning from her year of dark arts with the woman how important bindings were in any ritual. Without it, she suspected her boundary would be of little more use than a strainer, allowing whatever element to continue distorting the room.
Teach the room...
"Boundaries aren't walls," she started, needing the magic to understand that just because it had begun to strip theirs, it didn't mean sudden access. "They're instructions. You weren't done. Unfinished things become dangerous when they spread beyond where they should."
Was this dangerous? It had yet to be seen, but a girl could hope.
""This room is the vessel. This threshold is the edge. Nothing leaves unfinished."
There was a pause in the air, a moment where everything seemed to go quiet for the girl. She looked around, hoping she'd done well enough to keep the room stable. When she saw the moss stop, pride spiked inside her. The blue-green flames that had flickered in a temper settled now, and the subtle chaos of the room dissipated.
It seemed the room had accepted her boundary.
Turning, she caught Julia's smile. "Boundaries are healthy and necessary even within the confines of your magic, don't you think?"
Rae nodded at once.
It was true. Sometimes, even magic needed to be told its limits.
Did anyone who volunteered in the library – her mother included – know what time it was?
They probably did. If there was one thing Kathryn had learned since formally becoming a student, it was that the staff and students within the castle weren't ignorant of the rules. No, it was far worse. They often treated them as little more than suggestions to be followed on a whim. Curfew was at 10. They should've all been in their common rooms at such an hour, preparing for the next day. She should've already been asleep on the bed Mr. Maddox had given to her, getting the necessary rest before having to face another overstimulating day at Hogwarts.
Instead, they were listening to a history lesson at what would eventually become midnight.
Of course, she had to be there. It was an official meeting and, when told to do something, there was very little she could do but obey. She would not face her mother in the morning and have her ask why, of all the volunteers, her daughter wasn't present. Benny being there doubled that sentiment. If her irresponsible brother could present himself despite the lateness of the night and the manner in which the meeting broke school rules, then she really wouldn't have any excuse for herself.
Sleep would have to wait...apparently until the library could remember that it was a library.
Around her, everything began to change. It was unsual. Kathryn didn't understand why most of them weren't treating it as unusual. Was this what everyone got up to when she went to bed at 10?
An unfinished ritual. That seemed to be the problem of the people who never finished it. The only problem with such sound logic was that the magic didn't seem to care. It had sucked them in anyway, and her mother had made it clear that they would be finishing it.
While others moved into action, Kathryn found herself being handed a candle.
"Take this, Little," her mother whispered, almost conspiratorially. She noted the subtle shine in her mother's eyes and the encouragement she tried to pass on as she suggested she be the one to keep the candle. Blue eyes focused on the honey in her mother's, searching for some hidden clause. Would she have to declare things? The girl hadn't brought either her quill or notebook. Would she have to make choices that affected the group? She didn't trust herself with such grave responsibility while the room continued to shift. One wrong move and they might be stuck there for an eternity.
Her mother nudged her gently, showing her a spot she could stand with her newly acquired candle. She went without protest, as she always did.
The flame was unsettled. It took her a moment of observation to realise that its mood was tied to everything going on around her. Only then did she lift her eyes fully from the flames.
Protective Charm?”
The flame contorted itself, dissatisfied with the girl's words.
“Hmm Sacrificial Hex?”
The cold had her shiver, but the impassive little girl remained like stone. Kathryn didn't think it had been a good result but there was nothing for her to do about it other than holding onto the candle and waiting for a better outcome. The flames sank lower, changing until they'd become green.
“Binding Record?”
Each time someone did something, there the flames were, flickering and dancing. Sometimes it almost looked like they were trying to retreat. It hadn't liked her brother's offerings, not at first, but seemed to settle a little once the hazelnut, rowan berry, and string had been offered.
.”Julia, looking over the items and seeing how the bowl of water reacted, I think water is key. Taking it all in, the round structure and the water, I think the witness may have been a well.”
Matilda's words had the flames flickering with gold. That was likely a more promising sign.
She watched Ruth as she set the boundary, noticing the way the flames finally, truly settled when the girl uttered the final words to seal it all in.
Did that mean an end to the ritual? She would wait to be told what to do.
Avery wasn’t tired, or so he told himself. Not a boy unaccustomed to staying up late to study, an hour past curfew wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibilities when he’d still be awake.
Today had been a long day. Three exams and a practical, not to mention the Hospital Wing had been been short-staffed on first-year volunteers and it’d taken him two hours to change all of the beds. Having Kathryn fuss over the order of mattress corners and wrinkles hadn't helped any, but he was used to her methods by now, having adapted to try and make his life in the hospital wing a snail's hair better.
And so, even as he yawned, one big enough to raise the boy's shoulders, he sat upright, blinking through his not-tiredness and ready as ever to be the diligent library assistant he had always been.
The boy had hardly noticed through his sleepy haze when the room began to shift and change in front of him. Even as the air grew damp and earthy and the usual sounds of the library changed into something more insidious, the boy's head bobbed and bounced back up again, his eyes fluttering as he fought with himself to stay awake. Had he known that he'd be up well past his normal bedtime, he wouldn't have stayed up until three in the morning the night before studying for his Arithmancy exam.
A piece of paper was placed in front of him and a quill plopped into his hand. Hmm? Avery inhaled deeply through his nose, squeezing his eyes to force them more awake before sitting up straight again in his chair. Something had happened, but what, he wasn't quite sure. At the top of the parchment was a note the read 'the order'. Julia's hand landed lightly on his shoulder.
"Record everything, Mister Hale. We'll need it for later if the artifacts repeat something similar."
Similar? To this? It didn't make sense, he mused, that someone would begin a ritual and never finish it, leaving the artifiacts to stew and ruminate over the fact for years. Centuries really. Maybe even a millennia or more. Had the person doing the ritual been distracted? Were they pulled away for some reason? Was there an emergency? A raid on their village?
Avery supposed it could have been any number of things, but if all his responsibility entailed was to take notes, then diligent note-taking he would do.
He'd fight the sleepiness.
The Order
Observations: While looking over various artifiacts for cataloguing, the library began to shift. Moss grows over the floor. Shelves have turned into stone structures. Similar to Stonehenge. Air is strange. Library environment has drifted away. Symbols glow on Restricted Section gate.
Name: Maevie Golding discovers that the ritual was called a 'binding record'. Rubbing pulsed. Professor Barlowe seems pleased.
Witness: Matilda Nordstrom offers that the witness was water, namely a well. Moss moved closer to the water bowl.
Offering: Benji Laurence to everyone's surprise figured out that the offering was a hazelnut and rowan berry tied with string. The offering seem to be accepted. Benji Laurence remains crass and unintelligent in his reactions.
Boundary: Ruth Elliot lays a boundary between the gate, the bowl, the shelves and window, tying it all off with red thread. The moss ceased to grow, seemingly understanding where it was allowed to move. Professor Barlowe says even magic needs to understand boundaries.
Avery glanced over at Kathryn, giving her a strange look as she all contributed was holding a candle. Very helpful, Avery surmised, but said nothing. He was sure she found his contributions lacking in a similar manner.
