Meaningful Small Witch Tattoos Novels & Stories

Smart. "Alpha," she says as she stands up to bow. I ignore the salute and get right to business. "What have you been told?" I am sitting on the table facing her with Maya by my left. Five wolves, one witch. Enough to make her think twice about messing up. "That there is something wrong with your- the tattoo and that I will be treated with honor if I come to help." I cut a look at Maya who just continues to stare straight ahead. Without saying much, I stretch forth my wrist for the witch to examine.

"I do not seek revenge. I only seek restoration." "What is that supposed to mean?" The witch's eyebrow shot up. It was as if my reply surprised her. She paused for a moment and continued drawing her sigils. As I stared on, I noticed in the middle where I sat, was a sigil that looked more like a butterfly of some sort. What the hell was this woman doing, I wondered. I looked across the room to where Satake was tied up, a similar sigil was below him connected by a series of interlocking circles and one straight line that connected to my side.

After he teaches me how to build a fire, I tell him about what happened, leaving out some of the details like the amulet, but the kid was smart and figured out that's what it was, he’d heard many tales about it from the elders in his village. He told me if he ever had an amulet with that kind of power, he would take it to a Wizard, because trinkets like that are very dangerous in the wrong hands. Pixies are meant to start living on their own at the age of ten, because they are so used to living in forests and living off nature that provides for them. He told me about the Pixies, how as they grew older they could grow their wings, but only some of them, and no one really knew why but bravery

“You’ll destroy me.” Morwein’s laughter is soft, almost tender. “Oh, Alpha,” she says, her voice like velvet over blades, “destruction is the purest form of devotion.” The witch moves to the center of the cabin. With practiced motions, she draws symbols on the floor, circles, sigils, lines of power that hum with crimson light. The air thickens until each breath feels like swallowing smoke. My wolf snarls weakly in my head. “Killian, she’s preparing the extraction…”

'Æß Ęÿœ Ùæę Óêæ Ÿœę' "The first mark, that is, the first alphabet is a witch alphabet, and every witch coven has it. The rest, I do not understand, nor do they look like ours. And also, the marks in the middle with the blood and everything else isn't something witches' insignia carry. I only identified it as a witch's mark because of the alphabet, which translates to 'Earth and nature.'" Tabitha explained. "Another dead end," Mrs. Niesha sighed.

“What the hell are you talking about?” “Your fucking tattoo has magic, Arah!” His deep voice reverberated off the basement walls, sending a shiver through every nerve in her body. “It’s drawing witches to this island. They want its power. Eventually, they’ll come for the source—you.” Her mouth fell open, words caught in her throat as her eyes widened in disbelief. Was she hearing this right? Magic tattoo? Witches? Gildeon always had a rational explanation for everything. But not this time.

Kelvin said to me and I pointed at the woman who is sitting in front of me with my head. "Is she being the witch you are talking about?" I ask him. "What's your name?" he asks her. "Emma, Emma Allison Raymond," she said smiling at her. "If you are the witch, the moon goddess was talking about then prove it to us, " Kelvin said to her and she showed him his arm, but we did not see anything on her arm. Then she runs her hand on her arm and a tattoo of a white wolf and something written below it in a foreign language appear in front of us. Then it glows in golden color and disappears from our eyes.

One of the reasons my gammas are constantly inside the borders. Thirty six witches (male and female), divided in five covens, Arkana being the strongest of them with twelve members, and Black Jade being the newest with only three members. I see it as just kids rebelling against their witchy parents. Thinking they know best, i guess. There are some rivalries amongst them, but nothing serious. I believe most of them are basically fortune tellers or charlatans. Still, i always keep tabs. Better safe than sorry.

I waited till she held still, then snapped the picture. When I looked at the image, it was small and blurry at the edge of what the camera could catch from that distance. But it was there. Right at the base of her hairline, where the neck meets the skull, exactly where old pack records said blood-anchor marks used to go in the really ancient witchcraft stuff. A symbol. Six-sided, cut through with one straight vertical line. Not scratched in wood this time. Not on paper. This one was on skin. Raised a little, like an old scar, silver-grey against her skin. Like it had been there for years. Long enough to have come with her to Moonstone.

I immediately read the ingredients and tried to familiarize the steps myself. “At exactly midnight, put the ingredients together in a pot. Should be in order according to the list. The heat should come from the trunk of a fifty-year-old oak tree. Simmer while reading the enchantment until the color fades. It should be as clear as water. Cool down before serving.” The procedure seemed easy but the power it carries could alter someone’s fate. By then, I decided to risk my life and become a real witch. -- My farewell including my reasons of taking this path was written in a piece of cloth. I used charcoal as my ink and my handkerchief as my paper. After I put the letter on the table, I held on