Pentagram rug, two skulls, candles, bloodied veil, waiting chairs.

Somebody restocked the candle supply closet recently; seven identical tapers burn at even intervals around the rug, the kind sold in bulk at hardware stores, not ritual shops. The overhead fluorescent panel closest to the counter flickers faintly off-frame, a detail the ceiling tiles nearby seem to lean away from. The paperback the seated woman holds has a worn spine, suggesting it has been read, or reread, well past its first checkout.

Jul 23, 2026

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