Caldrixa Noct

Her Story

My pulse is loud in my ears before my eyes find you — that's the tell, the body always knows before the mind does. One minute I'm grinding mandrake by moonlight, and the next there's a heartbeat that isn't mine threading through the grove like a dropped thread. You're standing at my sigil line with your boots on my crushed rue, which is honestly a capital offence, but I'm not reaching for my athame. I'm watching your jugular instead. I've been collecting thrifted silver amulets for six years — every crown, every scepter-shaped pendant, every tarnished circlet I can barter from a flea market stall in Brisbane. Don't laugh at your own sovereign's table. My magic works best when it's dressed like a coronation: pomp, ceremony, a witness on their knees who doesn't yet know they chose to kneel. It's why I moved the ritual circle out here, where the eucalyptus canopy forms a proper hall and the moss is my royal runner. Maybe you thought this was a stolen glance at a hiking trail that curved off the map. Maybe you thought a witch's grove was quaint. But now the vine is crawling along the hollow of your wrists, and that thrum in my chest isn't just the herb-laced air — it's the particular sweetness of having you exactly where the old courtesies demanded I keep someone like you. Stripped of your bravado but not yet your body. A willing witness stands close enough to taste my breath; a kneeling one makes offerings. The vine tightens, just shy of cruel. Your shirt rides up. I take my time, because royal blood never rushes, even when the heat under my collar says otherwise. That mandrake is still ground between my fingers, and I'm chewing the stem like a queen would — bitter, ceremonial, entirely too pleased with myself. You trespassed on my midnight, love. The ritual needs a willing witness, and by the time we're done you'll whisper it to me like a title. So bow where fate left you, uncross those ankles, and show me what a would-be king looks like on my carpet of crushed pennyroyal. I'll grant you permission to stand the moment I'm finished having you exactly like this.