Twilight. Thresholds. Equinoxes. Precipices. New moons. Times and places where the world was neither one thing nor another, and one was neither here nor there. Reality became possibility and the hidden folds of the world opened. It was in those openings that magic smoldered. At the right times and with the right rituals the right person could coerce it out, and spin and weave it into effects subtle or flagrant.

Tonight, though, a smolder would not be enough. They needed a bonfire. Everything that could be arranged – seasons, times of day, life and death, born and unborn, inside and out – was on the cusp. From each uncertain they would pull a red cold and together build the fire they needed to build a conflagration.

One thing was certain, either consumed by the magic or seared by their enemy, they would die. Thus, it was no choice at all. Oblivion to save lovers, children, parents, and friends or oblivion at the hands of the Carrion.