Mystic Witches Novels & Stories

Lancelot bowed in courtesy. The room was built with curcular walls, and a high roof. Seven tall pillars built with skull shaped stones were arranged in a straight line, demarcating the council of seven witches, from the throne of the King of Witches, Grand Master Ahab, and his first queen, Diana. To their left, was a silver haired elderly woman, she was the only one who was sitted on the floor, with her legs folded beneath her, and her eyes closed.

He said. “I thought witches didn’t have mates as us wolves do.” I stated matter-of-factly. “Just because we don’t find our mates at eighteen like you do and have some miraculous bond snap into place doesn’t mean that we don’t have soul mates. Many witches are serial monogamists who mate for life just like werewolves. The goddess leads us to them in mysterious ways” he said. “So, are you trying to tell me that Sierra is my mate?” I asked him almost laughing in his face

Additionally, sage or sweetgrass was used to cleanse the altar. There were twenty young witches gathered around the altar, each wearing a long linen frock with a hood. A large circle had been formed around them with white salt, and four of the elders were seated in the center, all of them in a meditative attitude, completely oblivious to the danger that was about to strike them.

She played with his hair, using her powers. "Anything for you," he purred, like a puppet mouthing to a soundtrack. "Dance, puppet," she whispered, watching him leave. A few minutes later, he came back with the scrolls she had requested. "Thank you love, I do appreciate it." She put her hand over his eyes, making him fall asleep. Oh how the libido in a person's body could affect their energy levels. She took the scrolls to her secret den, pleased. "Let's see what these have to say." As she read through them, Nassiri found that the crystal was located deep underground, in a waterfall locked cave. It was also on Earth, realm of the mortals. No wonder she couldn't find anything about it. No one

The coven members mingled with Mary and Dean, eager to learn more about the powerful witch and the werewolf Alpha who had captured the hearts of Christian and Chloe. Mary, with her radiant presence and enigmatic aura, captivated the attention of the coven members as she shared stories of her magical heritage and adventures from distant lands. Her eyes sparkled with ancient wisdom, and her words wove a spellbinding tapestry of spells and rituals that left the listeners in awe of her power and grace. The coven members were drawn to her like moths to a flame, each eager to bask in the light of her mystical knowledge and experience.

Destiny works in strange ways, the witches and the wolves have been enemies for a long time, neither cross each other's boundaries and it is highly forbidden to ever mate with each other. Over the years, witches have been mated to wolves, but once the council finds out, they cast a spell to sever the bond immediately. The spell works, but the victim's life changes completely and he or she becomes an outcast, the spell also weakens his or her original powers causing such a person to become weak.

“Please—you don’t know—” The warden halted just long enough to glare at me, his grip biting harder into my shoulder. “Criminals like you have no business with the Queen. You’ll be thrown into the prison below, where you belong.” “No—you must believe me! The witches have returned!” The words rang out too loudly, scattering birds from their branches. The forest seemed to recoil from the name. The warden’s face twisted in fury. “Silence! Speak that word again, and you’ll hang before the castle walls.”

"That's wonderful. Among all the witches, you are the most exceptional. If you return, you will become the next High Priestess of the Misty Forest!" The witches of the Misty Forest were renowned worldwide for their unparalleled healing abilities, revered as divine figures with the power to bring the dead back to life. But to accept this role meant a lifetime confined to the forest, never to leave again. "I've made up my mind," I said firmly. "I will never leave the forest again." "Very well," she replied, her voice resolute. "From this moment on, you are my successor—the next High Priestess of the Misty Forest."

Or were they just stupid? "I hope I am also like her. Full of privilege that she forgot what role she needs to fulfill." It wasn’t Cynthia this time; it was a couple of newly sprouted she-wolves, acting like they were something special. For all I knew, they were omegas. I didn’t have a problem with omegas generally, but the way these two were behaving made me question their worth. They acted as if they were above their rank, and I couldn't help but feel disdain.

"This is what they do, scatter witches like rabbits." “I promise you’re safe now,” I told her. “Can you take me to your people?” She hesitated, then reached out and grabbed my hand. She was freezing. We walked through the trees, Auren and Draken close behind on foot, our horses tied to a low branch. Less than five minutes later, the woods opened up into the half buried remains of an old stone homestead. Tucked behind it, hidden by drifting vines and earth, I found them, twenty witches, mostly women and elders crouched around small magical barriers flickering like candle flames ready to die. Filthy. Exhausted. Terrified.