Every summer solstice (and winter too) the town of Windelton came alive with the traditions of its impossibly long history. While the usual Yule and Christmas customs dominated midwinter in much the same way they gripped the rest of the country, summer solstice was special.
Colourful banners flittered in the breeze as people of the town busied about, preparing for an annual Midsummer Fayre. Stalls stocked with handmade crafts, artisanal foods, and fragrant wreaths of wildflowers lined the cobbled square that was framed by the timbered lychgate of the ancient church. It was like this every year, as if restlessness was an instinctive reflex to the lengthening days and everyone had to play their part. There was nowhere to hide, according to the local saying, in the shorter shadows of noon.
But this year, there was something extra, an undercurrent of excitement charged the air. After decades of neglect, Windelton’s elders had decided to revive an ancient solstice ritual — the Woken Stones. Passed down through generations, the ritual was said to harness the power of the solstice sun to bring good fortune and abundant harvests. Most regarded it as a twee superstition from a bygone era. But more than a few whispered that old stories held grains of truth, that some inexplicable magic was held by the landscape, the hill that overlooked town and…
