As the light goes blue and the first star opens its eye, small magicks wake that daylight would have scattered. Dusk is the seamstress’s hour, the hour for stitching shut what should be closed.
A sachet worn close does its quiet work against the skin, drawing off what clings, a mood, a watching, an ill will that follows you room to room. Nine herbs of parting are sewn into grey wool and carried until the clinging shadow tires and lets go.
The Working
- At dusk, lay out a square of grey wool and a length of dark thread.
- Into the center place nine pinches of banishing herb, rue, mugwort, hyssop, and vervain among them, with a few grains of salt at the heart.
- Draw the corners up and bind the pouch shut with nine turns of thread, speaking a word of parting on each turn.
- Pass the finished sachet through the dusk air three times, as if wiping something from the space around you.
- Speak the incantation over it, your breath warm against the wool.
- Wear it against the skin, over the heart, until the ninth dusk has passed.
- On the ninth night, unpick the thread and scatter the herbs to the wind, keeping only the empty cloth.
The Incantation
Rue to part and salt to sever,
grey to grey and gone forever.
Nine the turns and nine the nights,
loosen now your clinging hold.
What has followed, follow never;
what has watched, go blind and cold.
The spell holds while the thread holds, and is released when the herbs are given to the wind. What is scattered on the dusk air does not gather itself again.