It’s Alban Hefin, the summer solstice. Áine welcomes her sacrifice with bare skin and wet fingers, burning with anticipation and hunger.

Dry branches embrace him.

“You fear me yet want me just as much. They react to your desire. You grow hornier, they get tighter.”

Writhing, he nods as she gets only a breath apart.

“There’s freedom in restraint.”

“I won’t relinquish my soul.”

“Keep it. I have no use for it. Your body, though…”