Cromwell Witches Novels & Stories

He sat at the small table and placed his head in his hands which frightened her more than anything had yet. "What does that mean, William?" He didn't answer her. Elizabeth felt an increasing tension in her muscles at his silence. "She's obviously lying. Did no one see that child? If anyone is possessed by the devil it is her!" "Hold your tongue, Elizabeth!" "Why? If my reputation is damned, as your reaction indicates it is, why should it matter what I say of the little brat?" "You do not understand." He sighed. "There has been a problem with witches in Salem lately. They have convicted and sentenced many women, and even some men, to death this past summer. It is not your reputation in the to

"Most historians agree that their actions at Dunbar were coordinated with Cromwell's forces, ensuring a decisive English victory. Yet, as always, the story becomes far less tidy once you look beyond the official accounts." The words struck like cold iron. September 1650. I had been twenty-five then, unaware it would be the last year I would age. The curse had been whispered months earlier in a Scottish village that branded me witch, though permanence remained uncertain. I still thought I might live and die like any other woman.

"It's your promise, Sevina... You must never break it." The words from the late Queen hovered in her head as Queen Sevina mused about her decisions. She had given her word to the previous King and Queen and it was a rule among the witches to always live up to their promise. If she did one thing that would betray them, she would lose her immortality and her freedom... she would be sent back to Mysticia and will no longer be given the chance to see the humans again. It was one thing she didn't want to ever happen, and that was why she took the risk and agreed to everything.

A sick game. "I told you," she whispered, her voice slicing through the air like a blade. She paused, letting the words sink in. "It was your lucky day." Then, with a terrible crack, she wrenched her mouth open even wider—too wide. A monstrous, gaping maw. "No—!" My scream caught in my throat as the witch bit down. Beth’s head tore clean off. Blood sprayed in a horrific arc, splattering across the walls, the floor—my face. Beth’s body twitched once, then went still, her lifeless form dropping to the ground with a sickening thud.

The Hunt was dedicated to killing all supernaturals, saying that we were unnatural demons who needed to be extinguished. The first group they went after were the witches. The witches were the easiest species to get rid of since they were basically human. They didn’t have magic wands, hands, or pinkies. The witches believed in making their own magic. They had books that were passed down from generations, teaching them to make potions. They read directions out of a book, mixed some things together, said a few words, and poof the outcome is a potion. They had no sort of immediate defense once their potions were gone because they had to prepare them days in advance.

“I went home before the meeting. Father and Jackson told us about it. I then asked for my father’s copy of the rule book.” “You are making your ancestors proud.” She said as she pinched my cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me you were the witch counsel for the accords?” I asked her. “Because you are my granddaughter. I wanted to be as fair and neutral as possible. It’s part of the arrangement the wolves made with the magical counsel. I shouldn’t be here at all but I wasn’t going to let that stop me from seeing you in action.” She explained. “Do you know if Clinton is a part of this? Or does the arrangement keep you from telling me?” I asked her.

“Soon, our Intermediary came to fetch us; he told us we were all needed to put out the fire which was getting out of control.” When Roark mentions the Intermediary, there are some growls and thumping of feet. The Intermediaries are the lower magical beings–witches and wizards who have extremely limited magical abilities. Werewolves are not allowed to interact directly with the higher witches and wizards, such as the Venusian Witches. We are only allowed to talk to the Intermediaries, who then convey our requests to their higher-ups. And that’s why the fact that I’m sheltering Princess Avalea is so enormously dangerous. I’m breaking the most rigid rule, just like Connor did. But Connor didn’t

Dominic said to me. “There are no more witches, Dominic, you killed them of remember?” I stated wearily. “That is not true,” Dominic replied. “How do you know we killed off all the witches?” I said nothing in reply. “The reason you have that belief is because it was a carefully orchestrated rumor.” Dominic told me. “If you did not kill them, where are they?” “Amongst us, hiding in plaine sight.”

But if the spells do not still agree with the werewolf, it would still turn them away. A witch would not only smell it, but see it too. Because the spells were cast by the witches. Not just any witch. But the ones from the Onwa Clan, which is the moon clan. And since the spells were from the Onwa clan, any witch from that clan could not only see or smell the spell. They could feel it, and touch it. Just like I was running my fingers across the blue strings of smoky light that now filled my car. I smiled as it burst, sending cool force through my hair, as it left my car. Even if it had left, I could still feel the evidence of it's presence around me.

With my head throbbing so bad, worse than before, and with all that's happening around me, it will not be long till I'll probably pass out. What if the law of hanging witches is still secretly going on and the FBI are just observing them for the time being, will I be hanged? Ophelia, Clarise, and Callista went on and on about how happy they are for me when I don't even know what the fuck is going on!