Pride Witch Novels & Stories

Having not like the man since he’d accused my friend Mara of being a witch and taken her away. I never saw her after that. It was safe to assume that she’d died in WitchFall. Most do. I knew. It was a massive torture chamber where witches confessed to their sins. We watched the older man coming down off the hill from his towering fortress. His powdered wig and overly elaborate cravat carefully in place. “An evil one.” My eyes narrowed. “You only say that because of his pursuit of you.” “No. There’s something wrong with him.” I insisted. “Saria, you been saying this for years.” She groaned. “He’s the most powerful man in our village and the six surrounding.”

I mean, even if I were, I would probably reject him, or he would reject me. Witches and Wolves do not mix; we are convenient allies when we both share a common goal. We are not friends, and we certainly are not lovers. I am from a long line of witches here in Chelan; my family is what you call witch royalty. The family line dates to the 18th century. Xavier is next in line to be Alpha of the Tukwila Pack. The strongest pack in the state of Washington. He will need a strong queen to serve at his side, but I do not plan to be me.

Hell, Werewolves are not even allowed to be in their presence, let alone question them. From the way Princess Avalea is frowning, I’m sure I have offended her. But she takes my breath away when she says: “Perhaps you’re right.” So the princess can tell right from wrong. She is capable of changing her mind. My respect for her goes up several notches.

’ ‘I’m not getting up,’ I protest, just to annoy him. ‘I knew it!’ “Edmund, please. Don’t do this,” she cries. “Apollo. Anyone?” “He’s gone, Princess Esther. You are now mine.” That voice puts all the pain in my body to a stop, replacing it with rage. “You are crazy!” She grumbles. “See what I mean?” Boris says. “Witches are powerful. More powerful than all the other species. With our ability to move things without touching them, we could easily win wars. Instead, we are treated like we don’t matter.”

My anger and weariness fled in the wake of her reprimand and all I was left was the icky stickiness of embarrassment. Lady Piia waved her hands dismissively. “That’s fine. You’ve been overwhelmed. But the tale of the vampire king is one that will be told on a different day. Right now, it’s of upmost importance that you understand what led to your mother’s disappearance. But for me to explain that, I have to tell you how the witches came to be. The whole thing is a bit convoluted -as is anything pertaining to the witches- but I will try to be as clear as I can. Witches are part human, part elves. Well, maybe one tenth elven? It’s become so diluted that we don’t even have any physical resembla

To get her to safety. But then I hear movement behind me. I look over my shoulder to see two of the Riding Hoods standing there. “High Priestess Isabella, I assume.” One of the witches says. She’s so unlike the Riding Hoods that the wolves described. This one isn’t a leathery sack of bones, but a beautiful, young woman. And power rolls off of her in waves. “What do you want, Riding Hood? There are no wolves in our covendom!” I hiss at her.

I glared at this supposed Glinda as I got to my feet. “Will you stop with the stupid alliterations? I am not Glinda the Good Witch. This is not the Wizard of Oz.” Not Glinda rolled her eyes. She’s had enough of my melodrama. Well, too fucking bad. I’m allowed to be as crazy and weird as I want. “I am Chiara, Crone of the Oscurità e Luce coven. The witch that has started this war and is currently keeping you imprisoned in your mind is my twin sister Melania. She’s supposed to be dead.”Chiara sighed.

Not because she was queen but admire the power she had over his King to make him step into the land of Goddess and summon dozens of witches just to see her again, his word, not hers. Wolves do not associate themselves with witches and Witches for they are knows as the creatures of the dark, follower of the dark prince and all that is bad so for him to go to that extent is a slap on everyone’s face. Even talking with them was a taboo so to create a deal with them was too much.

The chief, a seasoned and formidable leader, stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the captive witch. “Your reign of darkness ends here,” the chief declared, his voice laced with determination. “We have spent years tracking down witches like you, who seek to use their powers for nefarious purposes. You will face justice for your crimes.” The witch seethed with rage, her eyes flashing with anger and defiance. “You fools think you can contain me? I am far more powerful than you can comprehend! Release me now, or you shall face the consequences!”

The people in the pews stand tall, glaring at her with disgust in their eyes. “People of Nymeria,” the Priest holds his head high, “What do we do with the evil that lives among us?” “Burn her,” collective shouts echo through the room, “She must be burned to release her sins back to hell.” “We do not question the Goddess; we do as we are told. In her name, we pray for your soul witch,” the Priest shouts, bowing his head as quiet prayers fill the room. My ears burn as they all speak in unison. The woman’s silent cries, muffled by the cloth, create a burn in my chest.