It is not something invoked lightly. A single rite bound to the coven of old that the dreamers dread to meet.
The extroverted runes of summoning are drawn. No one will be called nor does a shaman wish to shield himself in this rite. He will be sending, gifting, or perhaps even throwing away.
Oils and herbs are burned in multiple braziers and a shaman breathes deeply of the fumes. They will induce a deep death-like slumber as his spirit-self soars and roars and tears its way through the unreal towards the crones.
He will leave a part of himself there. There are many reasons why one would do so. Leaving bad memories, parting with old regrets or even purging emotions that bind when he needs to see clearly.
But a shaman decides against the rite one more time. He accepts the burdens, he owns his regrets and he keeps the emotion for to do otherwise would be a coward’s way out.
