Beautiful Witch Drawing Novels & Stories

She was somewhere around seven or eight, completely absorbed in whatever she was drawing, her tongue pressed to the corner of her mouth in concentration. I lowered myself carefully into a chair near her, mindful of my ribs, and looked at the paper. The drawing was full. Not in a crowded way, in a deliberate way, like she had a clear picture in her head and was working her way across the page with intention. There was a dragon in the top left, red and blocky with impressive teeth. Below it, a woman in a red cape with a pointed hat on a flying broom, carefully coloured with a orange crayon. To the right of that, something with fangs and a dark cape that I was fairly certain was meant to be a v

The werebear is on high alert and ready to shift, I know he has no idea what I am or his impending death if he acts on the emotions he’s releasing and the witch sitting quietly in the corner will be useless to him, she’s powerful but not nearly strong enough to match me. I tell the bear not to act and then look at the witch telling her she is useless when my head snaps to an opening behind the counter, two females emerge from it and I stand frozen as a petite blonde with a tint of strawberry in it walks out dressed in a colorful dress that seems to flow with every step she takes. The other woman stops and glares at me, but the younger girl continues around the counter and her head tilts up

Humans might not possess magic, but they don’t carry a curse either. What is Princess Avalea doing here? Most Venusian Witches wouldn’t even be caught dead in this hut. At that, my heart skips several beats. What if she is dead? My hands and feet go cold as I inch forward until I’m touching the edge of the pallet. I bend over close to her face to check if she’s breathing. And that’s when she turns around and opens her eyes. Her eyes, the color of spun gold, are wide and filled with terror. Her mouth opens into a silent scream as she scoots away from me until her back hits the wall.

Sungul grinned proudly, “To know that you’ll soon have a familiar in your grasp.” I’ve seen other witches wandering around campus with theirs. Random floating objects or a slew of different animals saunter around with their witches. Some were as small as a pixie while others stretched high towards the ceiling, towering over the lot of us. There have been moments when I’ve thought what mine could possibly be. “Do you have one?”

I stood at the edge of Ironwood territory, boots sinking into mud as cold seeped through my coat. I hated being this close to their land. It smelled like wet dog, testosterone, and trouble. “You’re late, witch.” The voice hit low and deep, vibrating through the ground before it reached my ears. I didn’t flinch. I refused to give him that. I turned slowly, amethyst eyes narrowing as I found him at the tree line. Guilermo Santander. He stepped into the gray light, rain sliding off his broad frame. Six-foot-five of pure menace. Dark hair plastered to his forehead, silver streaks catching the gloom, and those amber eyes—burning straight through me. “I’m not late,” I said calmly

The force of their power tore through the night, sending gusts of wind swirling through the trees and casting erratic shadows across the forest floor. Both witches' faces contorted with concentration as they battled for dominance. Sabrina’s energy pulsed with a radiant, almost ethereal glow, her magic weaving patterns of silver and white. The witch’s power, in contrast, twisted into dark, curling tendrils, laced with an ominous, sickly green.

The chain behind me extending to allow the motion. The woman floated towards me and stopped a few inches from me. I recognized her as a sorcerous not by her appearance, but rather her ora. She was dressed all in black with a cape covering most of her face. All I could see were her eyes, which were glowing green. "What is your name, witch?" She asked me. I refused to answer. I only glared at her. She came closer and grabbed me by my hair, forcing my eyes to hers she peered into them as if she were looking directly into my soul. She released me. "I see." She said. "Tell me Mandalynn are you with child?"

But that wasn’t what he was drawing today. There was a picture of two girls—rendered crudely in crayon, but still identifiable as girls. One of them had short blond hair and the other had long brown braids. Their hands were on their faces and their mouths open in screams. David had drawn these as big black circles. A huge black shadow hovered before them, a shapeless body with red eyes and clearly defined hands. The hands looked like long silver knives. There were many drawings before this one. Lauren wondered how long David had been at it.

"Now, write down their full names for me while I gather what I need for the spell.” Pen in hand, I hesitated. Was this right? I’m an Alpha—I don’t need a witch’s help to win the woman’s heart. I just have to prove I’m the one she deserves. The witch returned, holding a tiny glass vial of water and a sky-blue ceramic bowl. Without a word, she poured the water in, folded the paper with their names, and dropped it into the bowl. Smoke curled up in thin tendrils, gray and whispering. “Perfect,” she said with a grin. “Sit across from me. It’s time.”

I chuckled, "I'm just going to have fun fighting Sloane as usual." The next morning, when the atmosphere was still clogged with fog, Amelia came out to tell me that she was ready to return. Dawn was yet to break, so I objected, saying she should stay longer. But she told me she had a means of transportation that would get them there in an instant. What are witches incapable of? Elder Paul and Erika were all set as well. They came out and met with Amelia who stood in front of my mansion. She took a stick and drew a circular diagram. She drew some smaller figures within the circular diagram. And at the end of her drawing, every figure seemed to be connected one way or the other to the next.