Rite of the Vanishing Child

In the circle drawn with charcoal and remorse, I invoke the memory of my innocent face. A pale whisper emerges from the past, among trembling candles that fear my breath. I offer to silence the rancor that consumes me, drawn like black incense from my veins.The shadow accepts...and answers me with my own voice, a broken spine, full of envy and pain. The child I was, appears beyond the smoke,but he lowers his gaze, refuses my name.It's the moment I understand the final deception:I'm not summoning him...but the monster I allowed to grow in his place.