Charmed Bare Witch Project Novels & Stories

She rejoiced that the collar was gone from her neck but now only fear could be seen in her small face. "A sorcerer" She murmured as she took a step back in a startle. Her last wish was to be taken in by a sorcerer, but her misfortune struck a jackpot and served her with the last boss who probably would want to use her as a sacrifice! She knew she had very bad luck and often met misfortune but today, this misfortune was a thousand, no a million folds worse than ever!

That can't be true! But Mom never laughed. She remained standing beside me, her face serious. "You're not kidding?" I mumbled. My heart's starting to drum crazily inside my chest again. "I'm not, Jazzy." "That's why the necklace makes me feel things...." "Long time ago, there was a war between two clans. Our clan, a clan of witches and wizzards, and the clan of werewolves." I suddenly feel dizzy. I used to hear these stories in televisions. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever thought it's real.

This was the first time Roselle saw a grey-haired Werewolf. They said that the major indicator that a Werewolf was old and ancient was their grey hair. The woman walking towards her was still very beautiful and elegant, exuding a regal aura of probably a queen dowager. Could it be that she's the mother of the late empress? "Duchess Rowena," Elijah greeted the woman and gave a deep bow to her. Roselle followed Elijah's actions and immediately did the same. She had yet to meet anyone other than Romeo and his men in this castle – not even the Duke and Duchess – so having the duchess suddenly approaching her totally caught her off guard. Was it alright for her to interact or stay close to her?

“Good job princess.” I looked around seeing others walking into the woods. One man, a tall slim man dressed all in a black robe was burning something in the fire. The smell seemed to be white. I don’t know why white was the word that first came to me, maybe pure. I looked up at Nikko, “Is he a witch?” Nikko looked down at me, “a warlock maybe. I don’t think he would take kindly to you calling him a witch.” He arched his brow, “why Samantha are you a witch?”

Kirsten Zūng is the Great Witch. Barbie held up her daggers and slashed through the beast's throat as easy as cutting the throat of a goat. Jucel quickly examined Zabdiel's wounds. The blood was oozing non-stop from his torso and he was breathing irregularly. His arm was twisted while his knee was fractured.

At that command the 2 remaining witches and the old woman all starting drawing from their magic sources, readying to unleash a spell, in Rex’s mind, that would kill them. Once the women started channelling, Markus and Rex felt an intense screech in their ears that crippled them, both dropping to their knees covering their ears trying to stop the debilitating noise. Shortly after they dropped down a large body was dropped into the circle, it was Charr, he had not seen a feint correctly and had been hit by a spell straight to the chest, he was now sporting a burn mark on his chest that was bleeding and he was panting heavily, he seemed immune to the noise of the chanting, but his injury he had

The street was narrow and old, cobblestones still visible beneath the tarmac at the edges, trees lining both sides and meeting overhead. "Twelve years ago," I said, "a witch from the Aldercroft Coven was fated to a wolf from the Cassin Pack. Southern territory. No previous alliance between the two families. The witch's name was Maren. She was young—late twenties—and, from what Rave described, she wasn't unlike you. Contained. Capable. Deeply invested in not being perceived as someone things happened to." Isabella said nothing. But she was listening with her whole body.

Only my parents had known, and even they had been powerless. The witches they visited found no cure, only answers: the Moon Goddess’s blessing, they called it. A gift. Yet to me, it felt like a curse. What use was divine blood if I was weak as an omega? “I’m sorry, Charity. I’m so sorry.” The words spilled out in a rush, tumbling faster than my thoughts. My arms trembled as I clung tighter to her. “Please, don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”

It seduced, lulled, cloaked itself in honey, disarming the very man who had once mastered the art of keeping people at bay. Perhaps that was her power. Witchcraft. Verbal sorcery. It was the only reasonable explanation for why Arnav hadn’t thrown her out the moment she appeared in his private study, wearing a dress so infuriatingly familiar, so indecently stunning, it bordered on cruel. “Yes,” he replied, his voice clipped, but not cold enough to freeze her. “No invitation to sit?” she asked, her lips curling slightly, eyes darting across the room with calculated curiosity. “No offer of a drink? Should I just assume this is self-service?”

She couldn't hide her surprise at the power Narsha had displayed. “Let. Me. Go. Or I’ll scream!” Charlene hissed. “Just scream. I would like to have an audience,” Narsha replied with a laugh in between. She added, “And one more thing, that man, Dexter, he’s too proud to use the power of The Fate Witch, if it does exist. He’s different from you pathetic ones.”