Sometime when Dumb Lexi was resting and enjoying his time and trying to get out of his depression

  I closed my eyes, forcing my breathing to slow. Inhale… exhale. Focusing on the fragments of the memories that came up.

  Just like last time Lexi…don’t think too much let them flow…maybe somewhere in my memories I'll find something useful to go back...fuu focus Lexi...

  The blood and filth of the cave around me faded, replaced by the steady rhythm of my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

  As the memory flowed

  ...

  The crackle of the fire filled the air, its warmth chasing away the evening chill as shadows danced along the trees. I sat cross-legged on the ground, my hands resting on my knees, as I watched Aunt Nora prepare the night’s dinner since we were out camping.

  Mom though had that look again – the one she always got when she was about to teach me something important. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled back, the firelight catching the strands and making her look almost ethereal.

  “Alright, Lexi,” Aunt Nora said, sitting down across from me with a small bowl of herbs in her lap. Her voice was calm but carried the weight of someone who knew the secrets of the world.

  “Tonight, we’re going to talk about rituals. Real rituals, not the cheap theatrics you’ll see from hedge witches or con artists.”

  I nodded, my young mind eager to soak up whatever wisdom she was about to share, not forgetting how much she loved the theatrics and drama.

  “Rituals,” she began, her voice steady and measured, “are the bridge between the mundane and the divine. They are how the shamans connect with their anima deities”

  “But we won’t be going into that”

  She leaned forward, picking up a small stick from the fire and using it to draw shapes in the dirt between us. “What we will see are the three core principles to every ritual: intention, energy, and sacrifice.”

  “Intention,” she said, drawing a circle in the dirt. “This is the foundation of every ritual. Without a clear purpose, the spirits or any entity won’t listen. They’re not like us – they don’t care about vague wishes or half-formed thoughts. If you want their help, you have to tell them exactly what you need.”

  She tapped the center of the circle with the stick, her eyes meeting mine. “Your intention must be focused. Crystal clear. Otherwise, the ritual will fail, or worse – it’ll attract the wrong kind of attention.”

  I swallowed hard, nodding. I didn’t like the sound of the wrong kind of attention.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Next is energy,” she said, drawing a second circle around the first. “This is what powers the ritual. Energy can come from many sources – your own life force, the natural world, or even the spirits themselves.”

  She reached into the bowl of herbs, sprinkling a pinch into the fire. The flames flared briefly, releasing a faint, fragrant smoke that filled the room.

  “As shamans learn to harness this energy. they draw it from the earth, the air, the water, and the fire.” She gestured to the elements around us. “But the most potent energy comes from within. Your own soul, your own blood, your own willpower, or others ”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly, her tone turning serious. ”

  “And then there’s sacrifice,” she said, drawing a third circle around the others.

  “Sacrifice?” I asked, frowning. “Like… giving something up?”

  “Exactly,” she said, nodding. “The spirits don’t work for free. If you want their help, you have to offer them something in return. It doesn’t have to be blood or life – though those are the most powerful sacrifices. It could be a token of value, a piece of your essence, or even a memory.”

  “A memory?” I asked, confused.

  She smiled faintly, a flicker of sadness crossing her face. “Sometimes, the spirits will ask for a memory that means something to you. It could be a happy one, a sad one, or even a painful one. But once you give it to them, it’s gone. You’ll never get it back.”

  I sat in silence, processing her words as she added another pinch of herbs to the fire.

  “Now,” she said, leaning back, “let’s talk about the totemic deities.”

  This was the part I’d been waiting for.

  “The totemic spirits,” she began, her voice taking on a reverent tone, “are ancient beings that embody the forces of nature and existence. They are the wolf, the bear, the eagle, the serpent. They are the storm, the river, the flame, the shadow. Each one has its own domain, its own personality, its own rules.”

  She picked up a small carved figure from the altar beside her—a wolf, its form etched with intricate runes. “The wolf is a guardian, a guide. It teaches us loyalty, strength, and the importance of the pack. But it also demands discipline and respect. Cross the wolf, and it will tear you apart without hesitation.”

  She set the wolf figure down and picked up another—a serpent coiled around itself. “The serpent is a keeper of secrets, a master of transformation. It can grant wisdom beyond imagining, but it is also cunning and dangerous. If you’re not careful, it will twist your words and your mind.”

  I listened intently as she described each spirit, my young mind painting vivid images of these ancient beings.

  “The totems are not gods,” she said firmly, her eyes locking onto mine. “They are not infallible, nor are they all-knowing. They are powerful, yes, but they are also flawed. They can be jealous, petty, and cruel. They can make mistakes, just like we can.”

  Her tone softened. “But they are also allies. They guide, protect, and lend their strength when the shaman or their believer needs it most.”

  She reached out, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You have the potential to walk this path, Alexis. To connect with the totems, to harness their power. But it’s not an easy path. It requires discipline, sacrifice, and an unshakable will.”

  I swallowed hard, the weight of her words sinking in. “I understand,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely sure I did.

  She smiled faintly, her expression softening. “You will. In time.”

  The fire crackled softly between us as she leaned back, her golden hair catching the light once more.

  “Now,” she said, her tone lighter, “let’s see if you’ve been paying attention. Show me how you’d start a ritual.”

  I grinned nervously, scooting closer to the fire as I reached for the bowl of herbs.

  “Alright,” I said, trying to sound confident. “Let’s do this.”

  Her laugh filled the room, warm and reassuring, as the lesson began in earnest.