Closet Witch Novels & Stories

"Let us leave them alone." Dylia bowed and followed Lena into the corridor, and Cedric was alone with Milicent. --- The Witch's Clan In the tower, in the heart of the altar, an old witch sat with her hands on her lap and her palms open. Her eyes were closed, and she whispered words that were old as she meditated. The air became thick, and the flames of the braziers moved as if a hand had taken them. Then her body shook, and blood came from her mouth and went to the floor.

Although most of them were quite expensive and could fetch quite a sum of money, she glanced at her room in search of any signs of robbery, but there was none. She walked back into her closet, a frown on her face as her brows drew against each other, carefully lifting the cylindrical glass and beholding the empty pillow. Her eyes narrowed and a glimmer of hope ignited in her heart, she placed the glass case on the ground and picked up what seemed to be a petal from the Dactyls clove flower, she gasped in shock, handling carefully as though it was the most precious object in the universe. She exited her closet and proceeded to wrap the petal in a protective case, a two way necklace would do t

The night sky over the Witches’ Domain shimmered with a strange hue, a pulsating silver mist flowing through the air like magic itself was alive. The trees here whispered secrets to one another, and the wind carried more than just the scent of the earth—it carried memories, power, and bloodlines long thought extinguished. Salem, a high witch and cousin to the Queen, stepped out of the twilight portal that opened near the Obsidian Stones—a gateway reserved for the ancient bloodlines. Her long midnight-blue cloak trailed behind her, brushing the moss-covered stones as she descended the forested path toward the sacred hall.

Many regarded her as a dangerous and untrustworthy being, but Cayden had learned that sometimes, in the realm of shadows and deceit, one must align with the very darkness they seek to conquer. An unsettling aroma of herbs and incense filled the dimly lit room as Cayden pushed open the creaking door of the run-down house. Shelves lined the walls, laden with mysterious artefacts, dusty spell books, and potion vials. The witch, draped in a cloak of midnight black, emerged from the shadows with an enigmatic smile playing upon her lips.

I try to say kindly placing the cup and saucer on the small table beside me. The witch across from me considers me carefully as she rocks back and forth in her seat. Her gray hair is streaked with white stripes and pulled into a long tight braid that lays over her shoulder. An old floral dress covered with a light blue apron is not what I expect a witch to wear. She looks like nothing more than a human grandmother. Letting my eyes glance around the room there is no sight of Ella. Old wooden furniture is covered by quilts and cushions. Shelves line the walls filled with jars of herbs and spices and a large black cauldron sits by the fireplace. Walter is leaning beside the front door wi

“I know the witch who did that. Is Roselia working for you?” Gildeon didn't need to see the cloaked witch’s face to sense how this fact rattled them. He figured some witches were acquainted in various ways, but it still piqued his curiosity. “How do you know her?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the cloaked witch. “Roselia,” the teenagers chorused, “used to be one of us.” Both clapped their hands, making Gildeon blink. The cloaked witch disappeared in an instant, and the hovering dolls disintegrated like the first ones.

It was the birthday of the alpha of a neighbouring pack and most of the high ranking wolves had gone to attend. Without permission, I snuck out of the residence, followed the fence and went to where the witchs’ house was. It was at the edge of the estate. A small two roomed hut with a tiny window and door. There were creepy plants growing all over the sides making it look really spooky. After a short hesitation, I walked forward and knocked on the door softly. There was no answer. “Jamile,” I yelled. “Are you in there?” The door opened immediately, and a middle aged woman stood there. Her arms were full of bangles and she was wearing a long black dress. Over it was a bright red cloak, staine

"About witches. Thirteen of them, wearing tattered cloaks, chasing me through a cemetery. They wanted payment for the blood spell we did to save the baby. They almost killed me." No one spoke, they just stared at him. Dante forced himself to continue. "I woke up thinking about those witches and their dirty, disgusting cloaks. And then I thought about Witches Mom's cloak —and then Lady Eden—how her cloaks are always perfect. And that's when I remembered. The embroidery on her purple cloak. The three circles." Kael rubbed both hands across his face. The thought of the spell being mentioned again made his heart skip a little but he tried to shake it off. He swallowed hard.

Her sisters quickly joined in and the three of them danced in unison, the sound of their footsteps creating a symphony of their own as they chanted mysterious spells. "You would kill me your sister?" A witch strode in, while the other three chanted their spells. however on closer inspection, one would notice the third witch, dressed in a purple cloak didn't chant a spell but was rather used as an anchor for magic by the other two witches, one dressed in black and the other dressed in white.

Clover pulled her into a hug. I left face through the glass door into the shop. "What are we looking for?" Chase asked taking a different direction from me. "Xairz is a very powerful witch. But that doesn't mean she can't be stopped." Courtney said the words and soothed my heart. "We're looking for something that can work against a Bluhdal Witch." I went closer to the old lady behind the desk who was on her feet with a solemn look on her face. She looked surprised to see us all here or terrified.