[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/200615/81562498560efa7e4cd3e875616fe399.png[/img][/center]
It didn’t take long for Maggie to reach the coven house alongside Charlie and Summer. She was grateful that she had been invited along, not wanting to have been alone in advance of the ceremony. The three continued to exchange small talk until Sister Lark appeared, sickening smile and all. The blonde hated the feeling that the young elder knew something they didn’t, and was aware of the initiation ritual they were about to take part in. In fact, everyone here knew about it except them. It was like a surprise party without the surprise, a secret where you were the odd one out. Brent had once told her that the ritual was being tied to an anchor and thrown into the wellspring to see if you would float. He earned a deserved smack across the head from their mother for that one. 

Maggie listened intently as Lark explained what was going to happen, and let her lips settle into a discouraged line as the young elder handed out the robes and let them know they needed to leave all personal items here. She mused a small laugh at Summer’s comment, [color=ACA1CD]
“Guess the sundress was for nothing…”[/color] The blonde added in. She should have just stuck to her gut and worn pants. Before getting dressed, Maggie placed her novel on the porch where she had been sitting earlier, looking forward to coming back here later and reading the next chapter. She then slipped her thin arms through the large sleeves of the robe and pulled it on, letting the excess length drag on the ground. Nimbly and quickly fastening each button so as to not hold up the rest of the group, the blonde looked around at the witchlings that surrounded her. Soon enough, they’d all be witches and bonded to the coven. Bidding the safety of the house adieu, the girl turned on her heel and joined the rest of the pack as they embarked on their trek through the woods. 

Time passed on their walk, and the blonde tried her best not to trip on the rogue roots littering the trail. The winding path grew longer and longer with every step, so much so that Maggie thought it would never end. It felt as though they had been walking for at least an hour, maybe more. She had no way of knowing- her phone was back at the coven house and she didn’t own a watch. Instead of dwelling on the time that it took to get to their destination, she admired the scenery around her. Maggie would have loved nothing more in that moment than to find a comfortable corner of the wood and read her book. 

Out of nowhere, the trees broke into a clearing, and the blonde laid her eyes on the most beautiful oasis that she had ever seen. It was something truly out of a novel- the serene water that was bluer and brighter than any other lake or river, the lilies of pinks, greens, and yellows that floated on top, and the gentle moonlight that made the air seem to sparkle. The elders motioned to the spots that the witchlings were supposed to take and she watched as those in line ahead of her assumed their positions. Following suit, she kneeled on the indicated cushioned red pillow, eyes glazing over the dagger and the cup of herbs sitting next to her. As her main area of interest and expertise centered around potions, she quickly figured out what was going to happen before the elders explained the bonding ritual. Maggie was accustomed to the mixing of herbs and liquids in order to accomplish different things, and even sometimes putting a bit of herself into the concoction if necessary- a lock of hair, a bit of saliva, and even sometimes a drop of blood. The most she had ever given to a potion was a finger prick, but the idea of injuring herself further for the benefit of the bonding ritual didn’t bother her. If she were to be bonded to the wellspring in the way the witches of past were, she’d need to give more than a drop. After all, she was devoting herself entirely to the coven. 

After filling the decorated cup with the wellspring’s water, she did not hesitate and quickly and quietly dragged the blade across the skin of her left forearm to reveal crimson. The pain rang through her, but it was not as excruciating as she had anticipated. She let the somewhat viscous liquid dribble into the cup and proceeded to stir the mixture with the tip of her dagger. Maggie then took a moment to look around her at the other witchlings who were performing the same task, some delaying and others already drinking. With one last glance at the elders, who watched intently, she let the dagger tumble to her side before she took back the contents of the cup in one fell swoop, hand beginning to shake as she drank. Her brother had given her alcohol to try one night when he had some friends over, so she just tried to imagine that this was the same thing as then. 

The feeling that then came over her was [i]nothing[/i] like that night. 

It started in her toes, something she could only describe as pure sunshine, making its way up her body until it enveloped her completely. She was glowing, shimmering even, the light and ethereal warmth dancing across her skin as the drink ran its course. Maggie’s senses were enhanced tenfold- she was seeing stars, tasting sunlight, hearing the wind whistle through the trees, touching the smoothest silk, and smelling the magic in the air that was reminiscent of an ocean breeze and lilac bushes. As quickly as the happiness and euphoria had appeared though, the terror and havoc made itself known. Light counteracted by dark, day rolling into night, sun overtaken by moon. The power coursed through her veins like fire, burning everything in its path. It was everything she currently was and everything she could be- stunning violence and beautiful chaos. The weight that suddenly appeared on her shoulders felt almost impossible. It was not only a gift, but also a warning. 

And then it was over.

As Maggie came to, so much was going on around her- Calypso was emptying the contents of her stomach, Summer was unconscious on the ground, Rebecca was face down in the water, Arken was holding his ankle in pain, Hana and Dakota were running around trying to heal everyone- it was too much. Too much for the blonde to process all at once, too much for her to bear. There were tears, exclamations, distractions- a tradition and ritual that once seemed so beautiful and meaningful turned frenzied and sour in a matter of minutes. 

Maggie’s breaths began to grow shallow, grabbing and pulling for air that seemingly wasn’t there, and her lungs and throat turned aflame. She couldn't control what was happening as it started, and knew what this was bound to turn into. She had fallen victim to panic attacks before, but never did she think that the bonding ritual would trigger one. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, loud and fast and reckless, and her vision became disfigured and blurry, almost as if she was looking through the small hole of a lens. The trees caved in around her, the wellspring shrinking as the overwhelming anxiety took over. Silent tears pricked at her eyes as she took her head in her hands, trying to regain composure. It was too much, it was all too much. Panic consumed her, and she couldn't find a way out.