"You will be ready and you will not do anything stupid. Am I understood?" 

I held the swallow in my hands. I had washed it, perfumed it, the red thread that hung from its neck was an omen of its fate. In a swift movement, I snapped its neck and let it fall limp in my hands, praying for a release into a better life for it. Then, the tongue was removed and I went back home after burying the bird and putting flowers with it.

As I came home, I ran to the kitchens, unattended at that point. I set the tongue in the flames over a grill and waited patiently for it to harden and calcine. Thereafter, I took it, crushed it in a mortar and pestle and took the powder to my bedroom. I had an hour before I would be expected to sit with my husband at the party, to pretend that everything was alright.

"Heavens aid me," was all I could say as I took the ash and perfumed it, mixing it with resins and placing it in a bag. The charm, taught to me, was meant to bring a fortunate speech. I would avoid issues, yes, because no one would see harm in my words and my words would be golden, like birdsong. Maybe... maybe something will happen in my favour.

I tucked the charm in my shirt, and prepared myself. I perfumed my neck with rose paste and my feet. I slipped on a reasonably modest shirt, dark blue with silver threading. The pants were equal to it but it was luckily just cold enough to begin wearing a coat. I took full advantage of that, the extra layer hiding the talisman in my undershirt. Finally, the silver necklace and a bangle or two would be expected.

This necklace burned. It seemed more like a testament to this cascading fall of a marriage than anything else. My laughter could only get me through so much and the memories of our previous night echoed in my mind. I tried not to dream of him, but dream I did. That roughness and fervent desire had consumed me, and had begun to seep poisons deeply into my blood and bone. As I stood there in front of the mirror, the Aunty's words rung in my mind:

"A Galean boy, through and through."

I was seated next to Luisa for most of the evening. I had been given a good amount of wine, I'm sure the order of my mother-in-law. Raiel watched me curiously from his own corner of the room, seated next to his father and the other "men". Before we had come here, he had pulled me aside and there was a brief moment where he simply held me. His hand on my thighs, his eyes holding a deep and burning desire which he pushed down. He retreated back into the affairs of what he was comfortable with: business speak.

The charm had begun to settle into its work. This was much to the dismay of some when more men began to speak to me. This was not my intent, but it was something I didn't exactly think was unneeded. It was good to hear from others, people outside the barriers of blood and law that I had been wedded into. I felt his eyes burning into the side of my head and soon became overwhelmed with the intensity of the situation.

I excused myself, leaving from the table and moving to the bathroom. As soon as I was out of sight, I left the path and went towards the place of our wedding. The grass was wet with the evening dew, the moon was high in the sky. You would not have thought that this was a place where a solemn occasion would've been held.

I took the talisman from my undershirt, holding it in my hands. I don't think this was such a good idea. I heard his footsteps all too late and he grabbed my wrist and pulled me, showing the talisman I had made.

"What is this, Village sorcery? What do you think you're doing?" 

"I am doing what is necessary, what I need!" 

"And what is that exactly? What I have not provided you with that you would whore yourself to these works?"

"You never gave me what a husband was supposed to give me, a fucking single word of love or devotion. I came into your home and was treated like a dog, cast down, kicked aside. I was brought into your home, expecting some semblance of happiness but only fucking got killed, over and over again. Is that what you want to hear?" 

His eyes widened. He must've seen something. He saw the anger, the pain, the misery. His grip loosed and I stared him down, my eyes began to water but I would not let him win. 

"I -" 

I didn't give him the time of day, I turned around and left the porch. I hid the sachet in my jacket and wandered into the main room, zipping past my questioning sister-in-law, and the eyes of my father-in-law. I left the mansion and called for a chauffeur. In a minute, I was finally on my way home, away from this. Away from them. It was the first time that evening that I had begun to cry and when it came, it came out in torrent.

Found by Aunty at the front door, she ushered me in and took me to my bedroom. She didn't stay this time, but I could hear her outside as I took off my clothes, throwing them and the talisman onto my desk. She came in then, sitting quietly at the foot of the bed. Her hand rubbed my ankle as I lay there, sobbing like a child. It was all too late when sleep came. I knew this would not go over well.

I did not hear my husband come home but when I woke up in the morning, he was at the dining table. The servants were quieter than usual. At the sight of me, he dismissed them and they funneled from the room, eyes down. Soon, only he and I left. I stayed at the door, folding my hands and watching him.

"Sit, please," he murmured, staring down into his plate. I followed, sitting at the end of the table and beginning to eat my breakfast. I didn't look at him immediately, but when I did, he was looking at me. He was watching me but his eyes had lost the predatory glare that I had seen before. They were watery now, gentle but also held a distinct shine of sorrow. That, and they shut whenever he moved his head. It seemed he was hungover, drunk from the previous night. I wonder if my words struck a nerve with him. 

When I had finished, he clapped his hands and the servants came in to take away the plates. His own plate was still half-full. I realized he was in a state. I bowed my head and left the room but not without a single word from him: 

"Sorry."

I turned over my shoulder and saw him, standing up with his hand at the table. His clothes were disheveled, as though he had rushed to get up. I nodded, feeling that there was more to this. I left, feeling a shadow in my heart.

A/N:

So the original ritual given above came from my studies into various grimoires for Theology. It isn't the original work and is, by far, a very streamlined form of the original ritual and ritual theory surrounding the preparation of such an talisman. Additionally, I do not condone the usage of animal parts without legal or ethical affairs being handled therein.

I had this draft in the back and just needed to bridge the plot to it. The Tarot Card "The Tower" is used as the chapter for this, representing a destructive catalyst for change.