Alie's Enchanted Halloween Recipes - Sirena's Part

Since Sirena was leading the second blend, she believed getting to know each other more closely would strengthen the power of the table. She told me stories of her youth spent wandering Irish forests and how she moved to Italy after marriage. Her life had been filled with happiness, love, discoveries, and herbs…

After what felt like half an hour, there was a knock at the door. With a sudden shiver, Sirena turned to Alie and asked, “If you don’t mind, may I answer it?” She seemed certain, yet anxious, as if the visitor had come for her.

As we waited in silence, Alie turned to me. “Tonight is a special night, and sometimes, on nights like this, we might receive certain visitors.” I tried to understand. “Energy has power, like a lighthouse that shines brightly for some, and right now, we are that powerful beacon.”

When Sirena returned, she was emotional, her eyes tear-filled yet smiling as she took her seat beside us. “I was expecting this visit, you see. Brief, fleeting, and meaningful.” After a few minutes of gathering herself, she looked stronger and more serious. She raised her glass to us and asked, “Shall we begin?”

Under the sweet glow of the candles, our cheeks gradually warmed, blushing from the effects of the sour cherry liqueur that I knew was Alie’s recipe.

The enduring friendship among Sirena, Nora, and Alie warmed the night. If you asked me what these three very different women shared in common, I’d say it was their undeniable strength.

At Alie’s invitation, we moved to the table waiting for us at the centre of the veranda for the second blend, and Sirena began to speak. “Now, it’s time for a lip balm—a blend every woman might find herself needing from time to time. I’m talking about a balm that enhances the power of our words and strengthens our powers of persuasion.”

She laid out the ingredients one by one: a tablespoon of shea butter, half a teaspoon of red beetroot powder, a tablespoon of olive oil, a tablespoon of coconut oil, a barely noticeable pinch of oak bark powder, and another tiny pinch of dried bay leaf powder.

We were to start by mixing the plant powders. Sirena had gathered all of them herself, dried them in the sun, and ground them by hand. While grinding, she would sing to imbue them with strength. Some ingredients, she explained, were added not only for colour but for their power: oak for success and authority, and bay for leadership.

She brought a small pot that had been hanging over the embers all night to the table, placing it on iron stands with candles underneath. The scent of beeswax filled the air around us. First, we would mix the oils and beeswax, then add the plant powders to the mixture, stirring it in our bowls as if tempering it.

All the while, we were to focus our intentions into the balm. Sirena explained that each of us needed to concentrate solely on the mixture before us, without interruptions or questions.

As we waited for the beeswax to cool, Sirena continue the tale Alie left. “Pythia ventured through the forest. Thanks to a charm that enhanced her protective and prophetic abilities, everything became much clearer. She crossed the forest without encountering any further danger or setbacks. The instant she stepped out of the misty, silent, dark woods, the sunlight stung her eyes. The valley stretched before her, lush and green, with a brilliant blue sky above. Scattered trees and a distinct path led from the valley centre all the way to the horizon. She knew she was on the right track; she had succeeded.

For a long time, she walked, accompanied only by the sounds of birds and wind. Eventually, her attention was drawn to large rocks rising in the middle of the plain beside her. She didn’t want to leave the path, but a powerful feeling within told her she needed to see that place.

It was noon by the time she arrived, and her mouth was dry from thirst. She rested in the shade of some trees. While resting, she noticed a young girl watching her with fearful eyes. When the girl ran away, Pythia followed, tracking her until they reached the end of the rocky area. It was like an oasis; a small waterfall, no more than two meters high, cascaded into a basin, creating a small, beautifully blue pool. Flowers, ladybugs, and even squirrels surrounded it. For a moment, Pythia felt she might lose her mind. First, she searched for the little girl, but she could hardly wait any longer. She quickly undressed, removed the charm she wore for protection to keep it dry, and stepped into the water. She bathed in the waterfall and quenched her thirst.

As the sun set and the moon rose in the sky, she built a fire by the water’s edge and sat. Her only regret was losing her necklace. She suspected the little girl but could find no trace of her nearby. The moonlit lake shimmered gently, then rippled as if in response. Finally, a pair of green eyes and ruby-red lips appeared before her—a stunningly beautiful woman who smiled, though her gaze held a wildness beyond human. “O Pythia!” she said. “You’ve enjoyed the gifts of our home, bathed in our waters, and drunk of our well. Now, what will you give us in return?” Feeling troubled for her intrusion, Pythia felt both guilty and indebted. She asked how she might help this being, who looked like a water spirit yet seemed fearsome beyond her beauty. The spirit asked her to gather herbs growing at the base of trees and help her mix them.

Thus, every evening, Pythia brought herbs she had gathered during the day to this being. Yet each time, the spirit requested something new. Since the spirit couldn’t touch them, Pythia would assist. Water-dwelling creatures struggled to create blends infused with fire’s element.

One day, Pythia, curious about why the fairies applied this blend to their lips every night, decided to try it herself. That evening, under the starry sky by the shimmering lake, she waited, and when the water spirit approached and began to give her commands, Pythia noticed something unusual.

The only reason this being had confined her to this oasis was the mixture she had pressed onto her lips, a blend to which she had been bound for weeks. When the faerie listed her demands, she claimed she hadn’t found the necessary herbs. Sensing something amiss, faerie tried to slip away, but before she could even move, Pythia commanded, “Tell me the secret of this blend!”

The creature, with skin like an electric water snake, glared at her with fiery eyes, unable to resist the compulsion. At last, she dived beneath the water and emerged with a handful of sand, its power flowing from the basin fed by the pond. There was no soul this mixture could not bend to its will.

Pythia took the sand, wrapped it in one of her cloths, and hung it to dry on her satchel. She then gave the faerie one final command: summon the young girl. With her charm reclaimed, she left the oasis, the domain of dangerous beings. Twice now her instincts had drawn her into perilous ventures, yet the charm and balm now in her possession granted her new powers. She walked a great distance, until, exhausted, she found herself in a valley scorched by the midday sun.”

Sirena gazed at us in silence for a while, then extended her hands toward us, closing her eyes. We waited for her now. First, she murmured softly, and then her words began to take shape. “You, born of earth, bring stability to this blend; you, sustained by water, grant it willpower; you, grown under the sun, lend it influence; and you, living by air, give this blend the power to rule. Let my lips be the master of intent!” She chanted this simple incantation, repeating it until each of us absorbed its essence. This was an essential ritual, a way of transferring our intention to the ingredients before beginning to blend them.

At Sirena's signal, we released our hands slowly, and, following her lead, began to prepare the mixture. We continued the chant as we worked. Once all the ingredients were together, we began to temper the blend by gently spreading it in the bowl with wooden sticks. After it cooled, we poured it into small glass jars, each one ready to be sealed. Catching Sirena's eye, we closed the lids in unison, marking the final ritual that sealed our intention. As her gaze told us to finish, everyone fell into a peaceful silence.

I felt thirsty and weary, yet content. Alie invited us to the seating area, refreshing our drinks. For a time, we all drifted into quiet reverie, lost in the soft glow of the candles on the table. Then, the sound of music began to fill the room. Alie, smiling warmly, returned with freshly baked cookies. “Alright, who’s ready for a bite of happiness?”

Nora, who had been quiet most of the night, looked at Alie with a joyful smile as she took a bite. “I’ve missed these cookies so much! Do they come with wishes, too?” Knowing all about Alie’s wish cookies, we burst into laughter. Just one bite was enough to make us all blissful.

Our laughter was cut by the chime of Alie’s clock, echoing through the room. Midnight had arrived. Nora stood and began to rummage through her bag, speaking as she did so. “Back home, we make various drinks from gathered fruits. But this one is special—I made it myself.” As Alie brought us each a small glass, I caught the distinct taste of lavender and sage, though there was so much more to it. As we giggled, feeling the drink's enchanting effect, Nora spoke up. “Now, before we move to the third and final blend, I wish to gift you a magical moment,” she said, vanishing into the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Alie observed my unchanging smile with a mix of excitement and warmth. “All well, I presume?” she asked. All was more than well—this was an unforgettable evening, and I had no inkling of what awaited next…

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