Prologue
Ceara frantically ran through the night. It was pitch black. The only light was coming from the fire that burned her house. The flames rose higher and higher. Her lover was caught inside. She ached all over; her arms and legs were burned badly. Blisters had formed on her feet and yet, she still kept running. She had to get help.
It was the night of Samhain. This was the one night when the boundaries between the world of the living and the dead became blurred. This night spirits roamed the earth and magic was strong. Ceara headed toward a little hut in the woods. The druid priest lived there. He would be able to help.
Ultan woke to hear loud knocking on his door. He opened the door to find a young woman in tattered clothes, her lovely face covered in ashes and her eyes full of dread. "Help me," she whispered then passed out.
When she came to it was daylight. Her limbs had been bandaged and her burns were healing. She immediately called for Farrell, her lover, remembering the fire. Ultan came into the hut to find her weeping. Sobbing she asked the druid priest if he had been able to save Farrell. It was now two days later and the priest learned too late what the woman had meant by her words "help me". Ceara crumpled into a ball, tears staining her face as she mourned her beloved.
The Sorceress
Finally, she had done it. She had completed her training under the druid priest. Ultan had taught her the magic of the druids. He had schooled her in everything from healing to astrology to the mystical powers to communicate with the dead during the time of Samhain. She thanked her teacher and made her way back home. She had rebuilt the place. It was where she and Farrell had lived, laughed, and loved. It was home. She planned to bring life back to the place. She planned to bring Farrell back to her.
Night after night the door to the study had remained locked with Ceara within. Over the years she had carefully gathered all the materials and instruments needed for her ultimate spell. There in her study she fashioned a laboratory. The laboratory prepped for her spells and experiments in the arts of changing the flesh and bone, of communicating with spirits, for transforming objects. The floors were covered in notes and studies. The library of her study was full of druid books of lore and magic. Many of which now lay sprawled out amongst hand written notes on the mat between the desk and the fireplace.
Samhain was just a day away. She busied herself gathering materials for her spells, making potions and preparing the place to perform her sorcery. The casting of the spell would be difficult and even dangerous. The difficulty lay in the fact she had no remains of the dead, all she had was ashes. It was an almost impossible task to transform ash into flesh and bone, and then pour life back into the body. Ceara remained determined to perform her spell, even if it meant taking a different path, a darker path than she was taught to follow. She was so close; she couldn't give up now.
It was late at night when she finally finished. Humming to herself she made her way to bed. Thinking of Samhain night; she anticipated seeing her Farrell again. In bed she tossed and turned remembering him, the passion they had shared. She missed him, missed his touch, his passion, and his love. She closed her eyes imagining him there with her.
Something was pulling him; no someone's thoughts were reaching him. Someone was thinking of him. Farrell walked through the halls of the spirits. He knew it had to be his Ceara. He had felt her thoughts through the portal between the two worlds. It was past midnight, it was already Samhain. He could feel the thinning of the barrier and he walked impatiently towards it, waiting for a chance to enter the human world.
A thick fog covered the forest as the barrier gave way to the spirits awaiting entry. Farrell made his way home. The spirit had come to see her every Samhain since his death. He found peace in knowing she was okay, and he loved watching her. To him she was beyond lovely. Her long flame-colored hair felt like silk and her face was a delicate oval with the slightest dusting of freckles. Her body was soft and curvy. He missed having her in his arms and watching her gave him such pleasure.
Ceara was lying in bed. The room was dark except for a single candle. Farrell made himself comfortable in a chair beside the bed, observing her. She lay there staring at the ceiling; her hands idly roaming her body. Slowly, her right hand moved lightly up and down her belly. He could see the rise and fall of her chest as she became excited. Her hands crept up to her breasts, gently cupping them as she began to lightly rub. Unable to look away Farrell sat in awe. He moved forward in his seat as she let out a little moan. Her nipples had perked up and she was now playing with the erect nipples rolling them back and forth.
Farrell felt as if his heart was pounding and his breath was deep and heavy. He had an erection. When he looked down he noticed a small wet spot on the front of his robe. He wondered, "What in name of the druids is happening to me?" He was a spirit, although spirits could feel and had bodies they were not able to have physical reactions. This had never happened before. But he wasn't about to complain. It felt good. He hadn't felt this way in years. As he watched his cock twitched and he loosened his robe to give himself a bit more room. He let his left hand make its way inside the robe stoking himself. He could see her lush body outlined by the thin cotton of her nightgown. She was perfection. One of her hands left a breast. It fell across her stomach and slowly slid towards the valley between her thighs. She radiated hunger and need. She shifted, causing her gown to rise and he could see her glistening pussy. Slender fingers traced the wet lips of her pussy. She moved her legs apart gaining better access. Eyes closed tight, she arched her back calling out Farrell's name.
His cock throbbed and he twisted in his chair to find a comfortable spot. He wanted to reach out and run his hands down her lush body, to caress the soft skin of her thighs and lick the salty sweetness of her skin. Her hands were moving faster now. She writhed, moaning his name again and again. "Farrell! Oh God, Farrell!" The urgency of her voice drew him to her. Whatever unearthly constraints that had held him before shattered. To his surprise his form began gaining earthly substance. He dropped his robe to the floor and slid in the bed beside her.
Startled, she opened her eyes and was about to scream. Farrell captured her mouth in a savage kiss. She melted against him, whimpering with need. He broke the kiss. "My God, Farrell is it you?" He chuckled and answered, yes. That it was indeed him. Her eyes roamed every inch of his body, and his beloved face. Gently cupping his face she brought their lips together in a tender kiss.
"How is this possible? I haven't cast my spell yet. Tomorrow is Samhain, the night I can cast my most powerful spells, the night I planned to bring you back to me."
"Ceara, I can't tell you how this happened. All I know is that somehow you pulled me into this world, that your need for me broke my unearthly shackles. The morrow may be Samhain but tonight is Samhain Eve. Tonight the magic of our world begins to mix and the line between our worlds blur. Tonight, magic is just as real as it will be come Samhain."
Giving him a lopsided grin, she pulled him to her. "Well, then we should celebrate this magic." She pressed herself into him, grinding her pussy onto his cock. His hands went to the hem of her gown and he pulled it over her head. It floated to the floor as his hands settled on her naked hips. Catching his right hand she brought it to her breast. He took the hint. Strong hands molded her breast, feeling the weight of it and caressed the soft mound. He brushed her nipple, making it leap to little points in his palms. He teased it, rolling it under his fingers. With a sigh she pressed her breast further into his hands. She kissed him hungrily and moved herself more forcefully against his cock.
