Novel & Cerita Bewitched Branch

CHAPTER 32 The powerful witch, Nara closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, savoring the scent of the woods around her. She then opened her eyes and locked her gaze onto the human boy lying unconscious before her. With a wave of her hand, she conjured a swirling vortex of leaves, twigs, and moss around him, shielding him from prying eyes and any potential danger.

The entire mansion is booming with the elation of Stella’s wedding and I excuse myself back to the cottage where I have a lot planned out to do. “Upma” I call out gently, getting out of the cottage through the back door. My eyes sweep the backyard curiously and my ears perk up as I avert my gaze to the thick tree branch over the roof of the cottage. It’s from an old large Oak tree that yearns a branch over the fence and across the cottage. Its large branch now serves as a bridge for the creature I’m calling out to. Shortly after my call, the leaves begin to tremble and the snaps of twigs fill the air. Birds squeal and fly off while I grin and rest my back against the door.

Tyrus shows Brent Damion’s text that said, “Do something quickly, the Junta cannot hold her for long.” Brent looks around. He could see no way of stopping her. Then, he realizes that the protection around her must be to keep people away, not things. He quickly searches the ground and finds a small part of a branch that had fallen. He picks it up, aims it at the vessel in the witch's hand, and throws it with decent momentum. It works. The stick crosses the barrier, hits the vessel and Brent sees that it had contained blood which was now spilled all over the ground.

“No matter what you do, don't let my brother find out what happened between us. I will never forgive you in the same way that I did the rest of you.” “Remember that I am not the same person I was when you gang raped me. I am Violet now, the woman you bow to, the woman capable of resurrecting you, the white witch, as they call me. But let me assure you, they may call me the white witch, but I'm not that kind, so don't get on my nerves.”

She would have appreciated how the wind played with his now wavy hair but she was mentally messed up. She did just as he ordered and without an effort, he lifted her in the air with just as hand and set her on the branch next to him. He clapped his hands twice and spread them apart but loose strings of fire appeared between his palms. He let the strings wander around until it wrapped around the ends of the branches. With a snap, the branches separated from the small tree that sheltered a stool close to the cave door. She shrieked in fear as they set off in air. She felt like an evil witch travelling on a broomstick as she held on tight to the weak branch that looked like it couldn't bear her

Like something alive was moving inside it. My witch side snapped awake. Hard. The Triskelion burned behind my eyes. The three branches. Crescent. Fang. Flame. I grabbed the edge of the table. "Aria." Brecken's hand came to my arm. "I'm okay." My voice came out strained. "Don't let me touch it." "I won't." But my hand was already moving. I didn't tell it to. It just moved. The same way my feet had moved toward the front door three days ago. Like my body had agreed to something my brain hadn't signed off on.

Give me the vessel or I will burn your mind to cinders! The necrotic black veins across my left cheek throbbed with a toxic, blinding heat, fighting against the freezing pull of the coven’s circle. The agonizing tug-of-war between Rose's dark rot and the witches' pure white magic was tearing my core apart. My vision began to blur, turning the dark ravine into a swirling vortex of gray and silver.

“I couldn’t fight back. My muscles refused to obey. Every attempt to push away felt like dragging through thick mud. The limbs tightened, cold and slick against my skin, biting, drawing at my blood, stealing my strength.” “There was a smell too—damp earth, resin, oddly sweet, making my stomach churn. Each touch left a prickling sensation, like something crawling just beneath my skin.” He looked away for a second, clearly unsettled. His hands trembled slightly as they rested on his knees. “I could feel it. Not just the pain… but the pulling. Like something inside me was being taken bit by bit.” “One of the branches that fed on my blood began to change. It grew thicker… wider… huge… twisted… a

*Xelina* The glen opens before us like a secret whispered by the trees. Every branch, every leaf hums with quiet enchantment. I step forward, breathing it in deeply. The stillness here is different: alive with good magic. Lazlo walks beside me, his hand grazing mine. The path beneath our feet was worn smooth by witches who came before us, those who sought peace, healing, or simply a place to exhale.

Without a word, she reached forward—gripping the witch’s wounded arm with both hands. The witch’s smirk faltered. “What are you—” With a brutal yank, Raven tore the limb clean off. A bone-chilling scream erupted from the witch as she thrashed, her body arching in agony. Blood sprayed across the ground, the smell thick in the air. Raven tossed the severed arm aside like it was nothing more than a discarded piece of meat. The witch gasped, her body trembling violently. “Arghhhh! You—” Raven grabbed her by the collar and slammed her head into the tree, silencing her.