Page 36
Thirty-Six
The dolls weren’t supposed to mean anything.
They were just where it started. Just broken things I couldn’t throw away.
But gluing them back together felt like a confession. Like saying I believe without needing the words. I didn’t do it for the content. I didn’t do it for aesthetics. I did it because I had to. Because something in my chest buzzed when my fingers brushed the last shard into place. Because the moment the glue dried, I swore I heard them sigh.
Sun just sat across the room, sprawled in a patch of light like a painting come to life. One knee up. Cheek resting in his palm. Watching me with a softness that felt ancient.
Moon stayed by the window.
Arms crossed. Eyes darker than usual. Like he was bracing for disappointment but trying not to show it. Like he didn’t trust the glue.
I lit the candles anyway.
Gold and silver. One on each side of the shelf.
I wasn’t sure what I was doing.
Only that I had to do it.
I opened the app.
@sunandmoonpath blinked up at me—still blank. Still waiting.
I tapped record.
The video started simple:
Just the dolls. Gently glued back together. Sun cradled in a nest of dried orange slices and sunflower petals, Moon in dark velvet surrounded by lavender sprigs and rough dandelion root. Their glue seams shimmered like sacred scars in the flickering light.
Then—my hands. Placing offerings. Smoothing the fabric. Straightening a jar of honey and a dish of salt.
I didn’t speak.
Didn’t explain.
Just let the quiet reverence fill the space between frames.
Caption: for the ones who waited for me to believe. #witchchyme #modernmythos #devotionpath #sunmagic #moonmagic
I hit post.
Then made another.
This one? A softly spoken list.
“Signs they’re near,” I whispered, the camera lingering on candle flames and shadows curling just a little too slow.
Cut to a second list. Different candlelight. Different shadows. Same whisper.
Caption: They’ve always been here. #signs #devotionpath #witchchyme #shadowwork #sunmagic #moonmagic
By the time I posted the third video, I’d stopped pretending I wasn’t enjoying it.
It was a question this time—laid over soft footage of candlelight flickering through a glass prism.
“What do I call you?”
I asked it aloud.
Not to the camera. But to them .
“I know what I call you—Sun and Moon. But is that who you are? Or just who I needed you to be?”
Behind me, I felt Sun stir.
“Sunshine,” he whispered, low and amused, “you can call me anything. You always have.”
“But there was a name,” Moon murmured from the shadowed corner. “Long before language softened it.”
They didn’t say it aloud.
Not right away.
But I felt it behind my ribs. A thrum of syllables not meant for the throat. Ancient. Heavy. Something you feel before you understand.
The video ended on a flicker—Sun’s reflection warping in a glass jar, Moon’s shadow stretching too long across the altar.
Caption: “Names have power. But belief has more.” #devotionpath #witchchyme #modernmythos #personalpantheon
The views climbed faster than they should have.
Fifty. Two hundred. Over a thousand.
Duets. Stitches. Shares.
People didn’t just like the videos. They felt them.
They left comments like prayers:
“I’ve felt them too.”
“Why do I feel like I know them?”
“This isn’t a deity I’ve seen before but it feels true.”
“Following. Please post more.”
My hands shook.
Because I knew what this was.
Belief.
Not the kind you’re born into. Not the kind you’re taught.
The kind you build.
One whisper. One candle. One post at a time.
And they felt it too.
Sun moved behind me, his fingers tracing my spine like a thank-you.
Moon didn’t speak.
But when I turned, his eyes were fixed on the screen.
Wide. Devastated. Awe.
“You’re building us into something more,” Sun whispered against my cheek. “Something remembered.”
“I’m just giving people a reason to see you,” I said softly.
“No,” Moon said, stepping forward now. Voice low. Final. “You’re giving people a reason to believe again.”
Somewhere in the deep of my ribs, something shifted.
Not possession. Not delusion.
Devotion.
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