The silence in the castle was broken only by the sizzle and snap of the lighted tapers in the hallway and Darcy's impatient footsteps on the flagstone. With a silent snick, she opened the door to the still room where lay the spiral mold filled with ashes. Carefully, she shut the door, dropping an iron bar across the oak planks to secure it and then she breathed a sigh of repletion.<br/><br/>Darcy lay the three feet of red hair around the spiral in the mold. The burnished highlights glinted in the light from the fire place. She unstopped the vial with the wine colored blood and began to chant as she laid drop after precise drop over the ashes.The words she said were ancient, esoteric words that held no meaning in her vocabulary but as soon as she had completed the ritual once, magik began to swirl in the air over the mold. Three times she said the words, waving her hands like the waves of the ocean over the spiral mold of ashes. With a flourish, she stopped and picked up an atheme with which she drew a thin line over her wrist.<br/><br/>"Ashes from one who is wily and strong. Ashes from one who is selfish and cunning. Ashes from one who is twisted and has no conscience. The blood of power and hair of fire have been laid and now, for the blood of genius."<br/><br/>She did not dabble with a small portion of her blood, but allowed it to stream into the ashes, from beginning to end.<br/><br/>"Now you must gestate for 36 hours and then, blood of my blood, you will come forth as the most powerful of any and all who have ever lived. You will be The One."<br/><br/>After binding her wrist, Darcy poured herself a coffee laced with liberal amounts of vodka. She relaxed in her black velvet chair by the fire, secure in her castle behind a barred door. She had forgotten that there was no one to keep Isolde sedated.