text: Every time we’re in the same room, she stares at it as if it were a lone, lame gazelle and she, the lioness, starving, desperate, salivating, ready to attack. To say it’s unnerving is a gross understatement considering I can quite literally see her licking her lips, anticipating the devour. Years of staving off her acquisition attempts, both polite and nefarious, left me exhausted in her company. Oh, Auntie will you ever concede? Ten years of playing this game and still she persisted, always claiming to be the rightful heir to the, wait; what did she call it; the amulet? Yes, that was the exact word, amulet. Her mother, my grandmother referred to it as her talisman; the third owner of the pendant; a burnished gold locket which held not a photo but a single amethyst crystal, aubergine in color and perfectly fitted in the frame. It hung from a matching chain, although not its original; that was lost years ago, before Grams gifted the talisman to me. I always suspected the original chain’s vulnerability occurred from a jolt of magical juice likely wielded by her own daughter. I remember the day as if it were yesterday, my twelfth birthday, the day I became official. There was a party, of course, complete with friends, balloons, presents and a cake with buttercream roses, pink and lavender. We played games and talked about clothes and boys, shared lip gloss, much to my mother's disgust, but we did it anyway. My friends graced me with cute t-shirts, teen idol posters, glitter nail polish and of course, more lip gloss. We watched scary movies and consumed more popcorn and nacho chips than an entire stadium filled with adrenaline fueled football fans. The day couldn’t have been more perfect; until it was. “What did you wish for?” My Auntie hissed in my ear, leaning over my shoulder as I blew out the candles on my cake. She was my favorite person, only eight years my senior, it was more like having a big sister than an aunt. She was beautiful and cool, with her own unique sense of style, somewhere between runway model and gypsy. I wanted to be her, or at least just like her; confident, aloof and magnetic. She promised to teach me how to apply mascara, so it didn’t appear I was wearing any, as I did not yet have permission for such grown-up vices. I remember thinking, what magic that would be, to deceive without ill-intent. I never answered her question; for if you reveal a birthday wish, it wouldn’t come true, and I could not take that risk. Minutes before midnight, still technically my birthday, Grams came into the living room and sat near me on the couch. She tugged at the corner of my blanket and covered her own lap, snuggling in closer. Oh, how I loved her, from the stories of our ancestors to the subtle life lessons she bestowed at the exact time I needed them; she was the ultimate teacher, the absolute role model, fascinating and enchanting. Grams reached into the pocket of her faded yellow chenille housecoat and presented me with a tiny purple leather box with a silver clasp. “Happy Birthday Alora.” It was mine, the family talisman, amulet, the Dresden draiocht. “I am entrusting our family power to you, Alora. I implore you to never, under any circumstance give this to either of my daughters, especially your Aunt Amelia.” Grams opened the chain, draping it around my neck and refastening the clasp. “She will come for it, promise me you will not relinquish the talisman, no matter how persuasive she becomes. Power this intense can be detrimental in the wrong hands, and Alora, make no mistake, her hands are not worthy, nor deserving.” I promised and never went back on my word, protecting the family magic, the Dresden draiocht, with my life. Consumed with jealousy, she came for it every year on my birthday, eyeing it suspended from my neck, plotting her heist, only to have her efforts to separate the crystal from me, the bearer, be thwarted time and time again. Her eyes, wild, almost feral as she concocted spells to sway my convictions. Chanting, lighting, burning, writing, and rhyming her way into my thoughts, my inner sanctum, my magical core, but the talisman denied her, each and every time, driving her a little more into madness with every futile pursuit. She cursed me, placing priority for power over the love and loyalty of family. “Mianach” she sneered with contempt. My twenty second birthday bore little resemblance to my twelfth. There were no balloons, no popcorn, and no lip gloss, just a few friends and my loving family. My mother hesitated to invite her sister, but I insisted. She meant me no harm, however vengeful and vexed, it was not personal, it simply couldn’t be. I held no antipathy, only love and admittedly a touch of pity. I entertained the notion of surrendering the Dresden draiocht to her, alleviating her agony, and giving her the power she craved, once and for all. The promise I made to Grams plagued my thoughts; I was never to resign to Amelia’s iniquitous enterprise. I swore I would forever protect our power until a time when I can undoubtedly identify the next guardian. Ten years; I watched as inflamed jealousy gave way to absurdity. I mourned my favorite person, as she could no longer sustain under the pressure, the sheer agony of want. I knew what I would wish for this year as I ritually extinguished the birthday candles set upon my cake. Why hadn’t I thought of this sooner? With great anticipation, I welcomed my Auntie into my home, and for the first time in ten years, I did not dread her. Immediately, her wild eyes fixated on my chest, reassuring herself that the draiocht was real and within her grasp. She smiled wickedly, awkwardly shoving a gift-wrapped box into my hands. “Just for you.” she sang eerily as she pushed past me on her way into the kitchen. Instinctively, I knew what the gift box contained, and I had to admire her continual efforts. However, the fairly expensive and very sparkly replacement bauble inside would not suffice; not enough for me to relinquish my pendant, her amulet, Gram’s talisman, our power. She sat at the table as she did every year, waiting for what; I was never certain. That look, that hunger in her stare, and desperation in her voice rendered my Aunt Amelia nearly unrecognizable. Intentionally, I sat directly across from her, allowing for a perfect view, my pendant in her direct line of sight, taunting her, encouraging her to reach out. Her hands twitched as they rested on the table in front of her. Her lips and eyelids ticked involuntarily as she subconsciously hummed and rocked slightly from side to side in her seat. “Mianach” , she whispered to herself as she hummed, as if the Celtic word for “mine" was the only lyric to her witless ditty. “What will you wish for?” she hissed between her clenched teeth, never taking her eyes off of the pendant. My cake set before me and the candles all alight, I smiled genuinely at her and blew softly, effectively eradicating each of the twenty-two tiny flames. Reaching up, I clutched the pendant in my right hand, hoping to draw from its power; trusting the ancient magic of the Dresden family to quell her obsession, calm her mind and restore her sanity. A radiant heat emanated from within, penetrating my hand, warming it and setting it aglow. She gasped, “brigrad.” They spoke to me from beyond our concept of time, not in the present, but from the past and future simultaneously. The chant was a lullaby, one I had heard before, one my Gram would sing when I was too young to remember, yet I could. I listened to their melodious message from beyond as I watched her squirm, reach out, beg for its power, bargain with her life for just a taste. Laugh and cry, as if her hysterics would waver my position. I stood, faced her and silently called our ancestral power into service, relying on my connection with the draiocht for assistance. “From this day until the end of days, I ask that Amelia be rid of her haze. Free her from the allure of power, begin her healing upon the strike of the witching hour. Take from her ill will and obsession and replace it with a natural progression; from dark to light, from blind to sight, dear spirits of Dresden, help me set her right. The draiocht is meant to be revered, to be respected, not fought over or feared. Restore the bond once we shared, before the allure compelled Amelia impaired. Sever the hold, dissolve the desires, by granting my wish as I extinguished the fires. Our familial power comes from our hearts and our heritance, true magic leaves no space for greed and arrogance. Amelia, my aunt, my blood, my connection, I implore you to allow my assistance and protection. Come back to us as you once were, free of obsession from your saboteur.” Slowly, the light returned to her eyes, still she stared. I could not speak, nor take a breath, fearing my magic had failed. Finally, she spoke. “My weakness is exactly the reason she did not bestow the privilege of the draiocht upon me. You, dear niece, are the rightful guardian, and I pray my obsession has not done such permanent corruption to our relationship, that we cannot overcome.” I assured her it had not, but I could not deny her fixated eyes and the not so subtle twitch of her hands as I cautiously embraced her for the first time in ten years.