I lit the candle and watched as tendrils of smoke drifted up from the burning wick. Fire had captivated me for so long I had forgotten my initial introduction and any of the reasons I had been drawn to it. My love for it didn’t need logic or a past, though. It was a truth that resonated within my core.
With a quick slice, I opened a cut on my forefinger and then staunched the flow of blood in the parchment I’d written the words to the spell on. It had to be blood magic. That was the only thing powerful enough to combat an emotion as powerful as love.
When the bleeding stopped I carefully folded the spell into a tiny box, clearly spoke the words I’d memorized, and then touched the paper to the glowing flame. It took a minute to catch, the corner blackened and smoking, but then the transfer of heat caused it to nearly erupt as the fire took hold. I continued to grasp the enchanted square until the fire tasted the calluses from prior spells scarred in my flesh.
As the small ball of flame dropped into the dish I’d placed next to the candle to see out the sputtering fire until all was ash, I felt relief wash over me. I had plenty of love in my life as it was. My supportive family, some close friends, magic, fire, music, and other odds and ends, were all enough for the moment. My heart wasn’t strong enough to love anyone else at the moment and the spell I had just cast would make sure I didn’t.
I’d fallen too hard and too fast for the last one. I didn’t want to do that again, and since there is nothing logical about love, and who we find ourselves afflicted with it, I’d turned to magic to ensure my heart and mind were unable to feel that way about anyone new until I had healed from the wounds that were still fresh in my soul and flesh.