Coven Casting Novels & Stories

Of every head of the coven, a family must have an enchantment room. In here, they would conjure spells, practice magic, be one with the elements and offer sacrifices. To think of how many years this coven has strived, a lot of living things must have been sacrificed here. No harm intended, but violence was never to my likings, even when I hunt I try as much as possible to give my prey a merciful death. The room was half dark, and half-light.

I carefully put on my makeup, attempting to conceal any traces of my previous crying and achieve a flawless appearance. After getting ready, I glanced at the clock and saw that I should head out for the party shortly. The idea of encountering Luca and the social group made me feel anxious, but I understood I didn't have any other option. I had to act as his spouse, even if I had to conceal my inner distress.

I shake my head. “No, I was just thinking. The Covens?” Everyone is looking at my redheaded friend now. She nods with grim satisfaction. “We managed to contact the Covens before and under the Summit. My family has made communication via magic impossible now, they are close.” She shudders. “The Covens are coming to join the fight. They will take a final stand against our enemy. Proving we can truly make a strong alliance between witches and werewolves.” She looks at all of us in turn. The Alpha’s bow their heads in turn. Chills creep down my arm at the sight. They respect her. Truly respect her.

“Are you ready, dear?” “Yes, I am. Tell me again, where is the coven?” Alec takes my hand as we walk down the long hallway where the bedroom is located. While we do so, I watch as the servants and palace guards make bows by telling us. “Your highnesses.” I turn my attention to Alec. “The coven is about thirty minutes from the southern border of the pack. It is a quiet and very well guarded place. The witches of that coven are elemental and clairvoyant. Therefore, it is not wise at all to get into a fight with them. Usually, they remain neutral in any international conflict. And if I think about it, it seems extremely strange to me that your father spent time with them, and that they asked to

“My people will cast a spell upon you. You won’t be able to resist.” “Voodoo hocus pocus? Do what you want, toss some chicken bones or whatever the fuck you do? I think you guys smoke too much pot if you ask me,” Bohdan said. Rancid chimed in. “Fucking potheads, get lost!” “If you haven’t noticed,” Bohdan said. “I’m trying to eat in peace. Please leave before I call the guards.” Neither Rancid nor Rodell backed off. “Tonight we do our magic, and tomorrow you will be ours,” Rodell said.

March 1, 1692 “John, you cannot judge innocents of witchcraft. You know the craft has no devil in it. But you will bring the devil to it,” Ruth Hathorne tells him. “I am coven mother. Will you condemn me?” “You are a natural born cast, as our children are. Not practitioner of the devil's work,” John Hathorne stands ready to go question the pastor's salve. “You will draw falsehoods from them John and you will be condemned by the coven. I will have to denounce you in front of the coven. My coven will have to go into hiding. You are cursing us,” Ruth tells him again.

"A table where the Null sits with the Highblood. Where the Rogue eats with the Citizen. Where the only thing that determines your worth is the kinetic force you bring to the fight." A murmur went through the crowd. It was a subterranean grinding sound. They stood up. One by one. Spines straightened. Joints popped. They weren't looking at a goddess. Their pupils contracted. They were looking at a leader. "We are the Covenant," I declared. The silver light under my skin pulsed in a slow, rhythmic heat. "And the Covenant does not serve. It protects." A cheer started in the back. It was a low-pitched roar. It rose into a high-decibel shriek that shook the ruins. The vibration traveled through th

Before anyone could react, I grabbed the remote, connected my phone to the TV, and cast the screen. The room lit up with Nora’s own voice, gloating about her nights with Michael, including details of their bed and their trysts in the car. There was even a video of the two of them together. I pressed play. "This," I said, my voice cutting like glass, "is better than any divorce certificate."

Just like that, fabric unfurled like waves, lifting coffins out of the ground as if like a magic trick. One by one, infant spirits broke free from their wooden prisons. I pointed at them, then back at Jim. "See them? Some never got to talk, some never even saw the world. They're just like you, trapped between life and death. In seven days, this place will be as spooky as it gets. Are you in? Will you fight with me, even if it's to the death?"

I asked, rushing to her side. She pointed to a passage in the book, her hand trembling slightly. “Look at this.” I leaned in, squinting at the faded text. It was written in a mix of Old Tongue and Latin, but Althea quickly translated. “The Hidden Coven,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, “was formed centuries ago by a group of witches seeking to escape persecution. They vowed to protect their secrets at all costs, even from their own blood.” She paused, her eyes scanning the page.