May The Gods Preserve The Craft
Night is well settled over the city, and the sounds of contented laughter mingle with crickets, the humming of distant streetlamps, and cars passing through the intersection at the top of the hill. If you didn’t know better, you would swear you were passing out of some enchanted land—through a portal in the middle of a major city, frequented only by the few residents with the magical sense to find it. But that boundary is an illusion. That sense of enchantment is potentially anywhere, so long as you have the inclination to discover it. And we are Witches, after all.
The rite is over, but this circle is unbroken. It spirals back, connecting with thousands of circles cast by as many Witches. In secret wooded patches nestled between city streets, in sprawling fields, in public parks and the basements of rented buildings, in cramped living rooms … our circle touches them all.
The last vestiges of smoke rise from the cauldron, the charcoals burnt to little more than ash. The candles are melted down in their holders, wax hardening on the altar, translucent droplets on the hilt of the sword. Libations have been poured, stories have been shared, and the gods have been invoked. The Wheel turns again, back to the past but also toward the future.
I hope that you’ve enjoyed this book, and that you’ve found it to be informative. Many people are surprised that traditional forms of Wicca continue to survive, let alone that they are growing, diversifying, and strengthening in an era marked by almost overwhelming magical and religious variety. Though so much has changed about the world since the inception of Wicca, it continues to call new initiates. Healthy covens sprout in unlikely places, led by Witches of all ages, with myriad backgrounds. If you have felt that call, then I hope I’ve been able to help you find better footing on the path.