Written for the Watermill Grimoire Project.

We are united, we are one. We are neither nor the either. We are the tutelar, we are the ana deo, the ancestral pair. We speak as one, without loss of the other. We are one.

Our home, off on misty shores, broods in our mind, thinking upon how fair they fare without us. We used to guard and protect the house of spirits, the heda. We lived at the greatest heights, not in flight or size, but in other things of much more concern.

You may not understand this, for we are one, and neither are we whole or together, but we still stand as the bars to a land so holy. As we stood barring the entrance to such a great house of spirit, we stand still vigilant till the day time test our will, and we become one in dust together. If only we didn’t now guard a wall, at least give us a closet a corner or even a lamp, but still we stand, always vigilant. No evil shall pass, no evil shall harm the holy wall we protect. For holy it is, for why else would be stand so still so long? Forever, till dust brings us together.