Hidden away, deep in a primordial forest is a garden; a garden filled with posies and herbs, and weeds for potions and spells.
A hermitess, not known for her face-to-face socialableness, invited him from afar, to join her and the others in the garden. Over time, her words had cast a spell that made him powerless to resist her invitation.
When they arrived at the garden, she explained that because he was to be only an observer this time, he would have to sit in the back seats with the other novices forming the secondary ring. "For your own safety" she said.
All the front seat participants, the inner ring, wore hooded cloaks of crimson and maroon wool that touched the ground concealing even their feet. They neither spoke to one another nor did they touch. They did chant dirges and poems, some of which were beyond his comprehension.
When the full moon reached it's zenith, one individual stepped from the inner circle into the center of the ring.
This priest of the night, of the moon, undid a clasp at the neck of his robe and it slide from his shoulders, crumpling around to the ground around his ankles. His naked body was like that of Adonis, with shoulder length black hair and a full dark moustache residing under a prominent hawk nose. In his calloused, and cracked workman's hand he held an enormous magnifying glass. Slowly he raised the magnifier to position it directly between his face and that of the moon. Moonbeams focused through the glass on the bridge of his nose and split off to enter his silver blue eyes.
He stood transfixed and awed. The inner circle in a low eerie moan, groaned out a goosebumply song. The priest's hair turned pure moonlight white, his eyes coal black. Instantly he was sucked like a ray of light through the magnifying glass, disappearing into the moonbeams. The glass then dropped silently among the flowers. Dark clouds closeted the moon just as his enchantress took his hand and wordlessly led him out of the forest.
And then she was gone.