He had spent most of the last two weeks preparing for this spell. He had chosen peach for the candle—color and scent—for peach was the fruit of eternity. He had encased it in a thick coating of white sugar scented with rose water, to symbolize the sweetness and purity of love. He had adorned it with a string of pearls, and set it upon a bed of dragonfly wings.

He’d purchased the pearls as a Valentine’s present for his lady. But she had not arrived, and now they must go to serve another purpose; they would form a part of the offering that would accompany the spell he was attempting to weave tonight.

Where is she now? he wondered as he watched the candle burn. The pearls and the glistening wings glimmered in its light. And the scent it gave off, a mixture of roses and peaches and melting sugar made him want to cry with longing. The smell reminded him of summer. Of love. Of completion. Of her. Of everything he’d been waiting for and dreaming of for so long.

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