I almost cried when I opened the box. The writing on the outside was a large, untidy scrawl that I hadn't recognised buy it all came flooding back to me as soon as a lifted the lid. I lived in a cottage in the middle of the woods. I didn't really have anything else. My parents were torn apart by a bear when I was five, and that had been hard on me. Mostly because I realised i would always be alone for my birthday. I knew I could handle it because I was a tough girl, but I thought it would be lonely for an older me to be on my own. So I collected some items that were important for me, wrote happy birthday on the box, and ran to the town where I asked the nice man at the post office to deliver this package on the 26th of November in twenty years time. He was bemused, but I think he found it cute.

Naturally, the state found me and put me into the foster system for a while, but as soon as I turned 18 I returned to my house in the woods to fix it up and just get back to my roots. I had a boyfriend staying with me for a while, but he left and I found myself alone again like I had been when I was five. Now here I was, a twenty five-year-old, sobbing over the generosity of a younger version of myself who gave up her most precious treasures in order to cheer up an adult she didn't even know. I hugged the stuffed bunny I had loved so dearly and sniffed its dusty fur.

I considered the post-office and how they had kept the strange little box from the strange little girl and still remembered the address and the date.

I felt seen.

I jumped back with a yelp of surprise before I crawled back to the box, pulling it inside and closed the door. I stuck my hand into the box and pulled out a letter, my hands shaking as I gazed at what lay beside it.

It was a severed hand with a distinct date tattooed on it. 2013/11/28 I'd seen this tattoo many times before; it was the day my sister-in-law was born.This hand belonged to my boyfriend.

I held the note in my hand, shaking. He had gone missing three days ago. Three days ago I was looking forward to a birthday spent with someone. I took a moment to calm down before looking down at the letter and beginning to read it.

Dear Grayson

First off, happy birthday! I've got good news: Your boyfriend, Danni, is alive.

He is going to live for the time being. I just needed to borrow him for you to gather some motivation to do something for me.

I crumpled up the letter and threw it across the room. "No, no, no," I muttered, wrapping my arms around myself. I couldn't start this again. No, I quit that job; I couldn't handle it any longer. I took a moment to collect myself, picked the letter back up again, uncrumpling it with care, and continued to read on.

There's someone I need taken out of the picture; he's disrupting my business. His name is Floyd Young; kill him.

You kill him, take a picture, and meet me at Violet Park in a week to show me the picture. I'll return your boyfriend to your house before you have time to get home.

You lie, and I kill Dannie. Simple enough

There was no name at the bottom; I didn't know who Floyd was; all I knew was that I had to kill him. I wasn't going to have another person die because I was too scared to return to my old job. I learned then that an assassin can never retire.

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Sister Selene Dormund was not in the mood for tricks this night. When no obvious source of the package on the coven's doorstep materialized, she looked down at the foreign object again. It had the proper mailing address, the shape a simple cardboard box. And the receiver was... her?

Who would send a package to the doors of a coven when just about every sister was away? Who would send mail here if they knew that was the case? Why was the package addressed to her and only her?

Common sense told Selene to abandon the package where it lay. But Selene was a sister of the faith, and the faith ascribed all acts in one's life to hold purpose. She glanced all around the coven's entrance one final time, hands shaking as she slowly extended them from beneath the folds of her robes. Then she plucked the package like a forbidden sweet and swept back inside the walls of her darkened home.

Be calm. Selene quickly stepped down the main corridor, towards the sparse room she usually shared with three other sisters. They were off on missions, like everyone else save her. She had been given a different mission: to protect the home and heart of the faith for everyone else's return.

She had kept to her duty for two weeks. The sisters were expected to return at the beginning of the third. They would either be gallivant and celebratory at a successful journey, or silent and grim against rejection and expulsion. Not everyone believed as they did: not everyone welcomed the sisters' presence.

Presence. Presents. Is this a present? Did someone really know...?

She had never spoken about her birthday, never publicized it beyond a simple date in the coven's records. It had come and gone in the past without recognition by others, and she had been fine with that. The faith she believed in was a greater source of joy than the recognition of another year gone by. And she had seen so many years go by within these walls.

Selene immediately moved to her bed, a simple structure with white sheets over a white mattress. Sitting down, she forced her hands to stop shaking before she moved to open the package in her hands. The shadows on the walls danced as the light outside faded into night, echoing the motions of her fingers as they tore cardboard and pulled out wrapping paper.

It's getting dark. I need to light the candles at the altar. But Selene didn't get up from her current task. As she saw what lay inside this package, this object sent specifically to her, her eyes grew wide.

What... is this?

She held the hidden treasure in her hands. It was a candle. A single, white candle the length of her forearm. The wick was midnight-black, the wax smooth and clean. Her nostrils twitched as she smelled vanilla in the air, her fingers and thumb rubbing against the candle's surface to entice more of the aroma.

Vanilla. She sniffed deeper. A vanilla-scented candle. My favorite. But I never said-

She stopped as something fluttered down to the cold floor by her covered feet. Brushing her robe aside in her haste, she gripped the candle tightly with one hand to grab this new curio with the other. Squinting, she recognized it as a white card, blank save for a few words.

Be the flame

And be the light

On this, your

Birthday night.

Selene blinked rapidly, clearing her eyes. A smile slowly bloomed on her face, the surprise and shock turning into a heartfelt happiness. Someone, somewhere, had the faith and courage to send her this treasure. This was no trick, not in her eyes or the eyes of the faith she believed in.

To Selene, this was a sign her unspoken prayers had been answered.