Hand Witch Gravity Falls Novels & Stories

“I would have given him a wet-willy, but didn’t want to get my hand covered in invisible saliva. I had just gotten a manicure; also, magical humidity takes a while to dry. “How did you go about doing that?” I can’t help but ask. Rhia raises her right hand and sticks out two fingers. She progressively lifts her wrist, and as she does, a cushion on the couch opposite us begins to levitate in the air. “Just like this…but instead of the cushion, I just lifted the pants he already had on. I might not have muscles, but I surely can make a grown man cry if I choose. We witches have to stick together, right?” she says with a wink.

The witches have found me, and I am defenseless. Gripping onto one of the legs of the table that I am under, I try to keep it anchored to the ground with my weight. The circling wind becomes stronger with each pass that it makes. The table that I am hiding under is rocking above me and my grip is becoming loose. The wind stops circling, and everything comes crashing to the ground around me. Raising my hands above my head I try to block my body from the falling debris. The table crashes down on top of me and I can feel the bones in my forearm snap in two.

Immediately, the witch turns my hand, so my palm is facing the ground. And a drop of blood falls to the crystal floor.

The wand began to glow and the light pierced his eye. "NOOOO!!!" I screamed as I made to run towards Caleb but a hard grabbed me from behind and pulled me back. I slipped and fell on my back. I then tried to stand up but the hand that was holding me pinned me down. I looked up and saw a witch with warts all over her greenish face, staring down at my face, smiling and displaying her crooked and rotten teeth. I then turned and looked at Caleb as hot tears began pouring from my eyes.

Her fingers, hands and arms twitched in an unconventional patterns. The witches of Illinor were confused and enraged by the sight of their subjects falling one after another. The whole battlefield was filled with icy fog, and ice began to cover the ground. Realizing that she was the source of the deadly element, the witches rushed toward her as well as the Black Shaols. With the iced ground, Faline willed glaciers and sharp stalagmites to pierce through both the beasts and the witches' heads. Every enemy ended up dying by the cruel grip of her power.

A decade older than Mauritius. Gertrude Fallis, the witch. One of the strongest and oldest members of the Coven of Magic. She has long brown hair, and blue eyes that look like they could see your soul. Her skin is brown, the same color as her hair. In human eyes, she looks like a woman in her late 20s but in reality, she’s in her 70s. She uses magic to slow her age and hide her scent, and her identity.

He held his hands out, but I whipped silver twine around them, causing his step to falter. I still had a grip on his neck and now I was slowing him down with his hands wrapped in silver. “You need gold to stop the witchery,” the first sister yelled out. Mustering gold from thin air, I wrapped it around his hands, so he now had silver and gold touching his skin. He tried to yell in outrage, when he fell to the ground in front of me, almost dead from the strangulation happening to him.

Shapes and symbols danced where people should’ve been. As I twisted, I hurled the branding rod behind me—straight into Rowan. He roared from the impact. The next moment, I felt the pull of gravity. Chants followed, thick and heavy. They were trying to drag me down. Trying to weaken me. But I’ve had enough. I ripped my feet from the ground—blood gushing from my ankle—and shot toward the witch in front of me. But before I could reach her, lightning struck between us. Her eyes glowed red.

he said to his friends. Nick just rolled his eyes as a took yet another drag from his cigarette to which I cringed my nose in disgust. I walked closer to inspect them. There was a white one with flames finely imprinted on its sides and a few drawings of skulls. Then there was a red one which had a large scorpion drawn on its side with a few black strips across it and then finally there was the one that Nick was leaning on which I figured was his. It was a black spotless one with a Phoenix engulfed in flames from its wings to its head.

Damian said, but his tone was dismissive, like he was talking about something trivial. "Oh," Isla glanced at me, her eyes full of contempt. "Earth-weaving? How… quaint." She paused, making sure everyone was listening. "But I've never seen it mentioned in any orthodox blood magic codex." The room went silent. "Perhaps it's some self-taught, backwoods parlor trick," she added, her voice dripping with meaning. "True power comes from a bloodline." Self-taught. She was calling me a rogue with no roots.