A pale figure stepped out into the moonlight from the eastern side of the glen, approaching the firepit. It crouched, dropping a sack on the ground, and remained crouched for quite some time. When it again moved, a spark appeared in its midst, and lept forth to dance along the logs, lighting them quickly. The flickering light revealed a Fae of uncommon tallness, of black hair, and with a long, black tail.
Marie's eyes studied the fire for awhile, her breath deepening as she entered a trance state. The pupils of her eyes expanded until they filled the iris, leaving but a thin, violet ring around the outside, limned by black. Flames danced in their depths, and appeared to come from within, as well as without.
Marie arose with grace to her feet. She was naked from head to foot save a necklace of many gems, ending in an intricate Pentacle of the finest silver. She held something in her closed hands as she took her stance, feet slightly spread, knees loose.
Fists at her side, Marie began to chant an ancient Dialect that even few Fae remembered, it was that old. After a few lyrical phrases slipped past her lips, she lifted her left hand, opened it, and threw a powder into the fire. The flames rose wildly, intermingled with the colors of silver and gold, before dying back to their customary reds and oranges. She contemplated it, then spoke a few more cryptic phrases, bringing up her right hand, and dashing yet more powder onto the flames. This time, they arose, and stayed wild, with deep crimson like blood, black, and white mingled amongst the flames.
Somewhere off in the far distance, one could hear the mutter of thunder, and the breeze stirred for the first time. Hands spread wide at her sides, Marie continued the chant, her words taking on a sense of urgency. She began to raise her hands, and as her hands rose, so did the wind. The first tendrils of cloud snuck across the deep starstruck sky, casting shadows upon the glen.
Marie closed her eyes, and her words became a blur. By the time her hands were reaching skyward, a full blown thunderstorm had taken possession of the glen, sending the sacred trees stretching to and fro, and the fire whipping mightily in its pit, yet not harming anything around it.
Marie closed her eyes, then looked skyward, and began to speak words in a deep voice totally unlike anything anyone else has ever heard from her, before. The wind began to turn in a circle, just inside the sacred trees, creating a tornadic wall of wind. When she reached the end of this mystic Chant, she clapped her hands down, and together. A brilliant blue-white bolt of lightning struck down into the unnatural flames of the fire with a roar and an ear-shattering bang, extinguishing the flames, and throwing Marie clear of the firepit a good ten meters.
She lay on the rain-soaked ground, as the clouds threaded away nearly as quickly as they came, the torrential rain trickled off, then vanished, and the tornadic winds with it. Not a sound could be heard in the glen; even the dripping of the trees seemed entirely muted.
After an indeterminate amount of time, Marie stirred, then sat up. She swept back the long, tangled tendrils of her hair, and her night vision focused on the now-quiet firepit. Not yet having the strength to stand, Marie crawled to it on all fours, obviously looking for something.
At the bottom of the blackened hole lay a leather pouch, worked with intricate beads and gems, and tied off with a silver cord. It laid there as though put there on purpose.
Marie didn't realize she was holding her breath all that time, and let it out explosively. The spell had worked and the Talisman had been returned to her. She sat down, then reached in the pouch, retrieving a water skin and some berries and nuts. She replenished herself, soon regaining enough strength to stand on shaking legs. Before rising, Marie reached into the pit, snatching the Talisman from the still-warm stones.
Climbing carefully to her feet, it was obvious that there was something else Marie had taken out of the bag. She now took these objects, and the Talisman, and proceeded to the Western side of the glen. There, she used her strong, clawlike nails to dig a hole in the soft loam, at the foot of an Elder Tree - the Tree of the Mother. First, she dropped in the Talisman, then hesitated, opening her other hand. In its palm glittered the engagement and wedding rings that Willy, her husband, had given her. She contemplated them for a moment, then, with a small wail, tossed them into the hole with the totem bag. Without hesitation, she covered them both up, and tamped down the ground, replacing the grass divot, till all looked undisturbed.
Barely able to walk, Marie returned to the pit, retrieved her bag, and staggered out of the glen, headed for home, and bed. She was deathly ill for three days, but such is the price to be paid for retrieving something not usually retrieved. She was watched over by a new love, ministered to, and guarded. She managed to recover quickly, but there would always be something not quite defined, haunting her violet eyes.
Nobody had ever retrieved the Talisman of Bonding before. Fae mate for life; Marie had made the mistake of mating with a human, who had no understanding of their Ways, and thus, she paid the price to un-do what had never been un-done, before.
It was done. She was free. The Talisman, the totem, and the rings, dissolved and became a part of the earth, never to be discovered again.