(Warning! Contains some Sleep No More minor spoilers)
I was doing the thing I swore I would never do. I was already covered in someone else’s blood, there was grave yard dirt in my ballet flats, the taste of tears in my mouth and I was gingerly feeling around a dead goat, getting goat’s hair all over me. O Hecate. You and your damned ring quest.
I recently saw a unique production of Shakespeare's %The Tempest%. While I was entranced by the amazing performances that fused dance, martial arts, and other kinds of movement to convey the characters' meaning entirely without words, at the end I was frustrated by the way magic - which had been such a pivotal feature throughout - was not just neglected, but deliberately rejected. Since this is a comedy, it ends with a wedding, but more importantly, with the restoration of all the characters to their rightful place in life: the dispossessed aristocrats take up their honors, while the servants who have been playing around are put back to work. At that point, the magician can abandon his book, and with it, his power. But every instinct in my Witch's soul rose up in rebellion, insisting that the role of magic was not to maintain the status quo.