At midnight the mirror forgets which side of it you stand on. In that forgetting, a patient worker can lay a hearth inside the glass and let a distant heart come and warm its hands.
This working reaches across the dark toward the one who has forgotten the shape of home, showing them your hearth in the black silver until longing turns their feet. The deep midnight is the hour of thresholds between here and elsewhere; a mirror worked well becomes a window, and a window becomes an invitation.
The Working
- At true midnight, set a mirror upright so it faces the warmest heart of your home, the hearth or the fire, never the door to outside.
- Place a lit candle between yourself and the glass so its flame doubles in the silver.
- Set a shallow bowl of water before the mirror and let the candlelight ripple across it.
- Ring a bell three times to open the glass, and hold the wanderer’s face steady in your mind.
- Breathe upon the mirror and, in the fog, trace the first letter of their name, then wipe it clear so only the intent remains.
- Speak the verse low, watching the doubled flame, and picture the far one stepping into the reflected warmth.
- Close by ringing the bell once, covering the mirror with cloth, and snuffing the candle; repeat for three midnights running.
The Incantation
Silver deep and midnight wide,
show the warmth that waits inside.
Here the hearth, and here the flame,
here the door that keeps your name.
Look, and let the longing start;
look, and turn your travelling heart.
Come from far and come from cold,
come to the fire, as of old.
The mirror is a strong road and a quiet one; keep it covered between workings so nothing else wanders through. Three midnights, and the far one will begin to dream of your fire.