Novelas y relatos de Stories About Witches

The magic that she had happily used to help Rigel conquer and destroy innocent packs, thinking it would make him love her and treat her like she was worth something to him. Once upon a time, Helena had despised her magic and saw it as a curse. Being born as a werewolf who did not get a wolf form on her twelfth birthday, had made her an anomaly and her ability to do magic had made her even stranger, causing her to isolate herself from others. Her family and pack had been supportive and kind, pushing when she pulled away from them and creating ways to ensure she could be involved in everything but it was never enough. Her Father and Brother could turn into majestic beasts that ran as fast as t

Anything! Her talent was not only the witchery, she learnt in her childhood also it was not even using any sort of magic to cure the people. Her real talent was to portray lies so realistically that the other person had to give in to her wishes, she knew how to toy minds well. To get what she wanted, she had to become someone she was not in the vision of the world. Even though it was a witch or... just a sinful liar who could toy minds.' Who cares? Right?

“I’m not sure. It took a considerable amount of magical effort to shrink the logs.” I bite back a sigh as I’m reminded of what Aldrich said earlier. The ruler has to be the most powerful witch or wizard, and I'm unable to perform even the simplest acts of magic. I wonder how nobody has questioned the rules in all the thousands of years they have been enforced. Perhaps we have done it for so long that we accepted them as the absolute truth. It is not surprising that when Werewolves arrived in Altair, they rebelled. No wonder they think the laws need to be updated.

Perhaps fate was finally smiling down on me. We, the witches born in Whistleberry, have always faced a harsh reality. Our powers mark us as outcasts, condemned by society. Once discovered, witches in Whistleberry face a grim fate—death by burning or stoning. Sometimes, the torment is even more creative, designed to prolong our suffering until we succumb to the inevitable.

From what I had read, witches and vampires had been banned in lycanthropy because of a story I had read somewhere. Many years ago in the werewolf kingdom, a witch hacked a werewolf of the blood moon pack to death. The reason for this is not yet known up until this day. Some say the werewolf was engaged to the witch and he cheated on her, so she conjured him in her shrine and struck him dead with an invisible knife and then sent a vampire friend to suck his blood. Some say the witch killed the werewolf out of pure evil. Lots and lots of stories had been going round but nobody knew the real reason for that.

the other woman hissed back, shaking her head. A witch. My stomach twisted. What would a witch be doing at the border? Witches didn’t belong among us. Every story, every book I had read, every word from my uncle painted them as dangerous. They were enemies. They bent lives with spells, cursed bloodlines, and turned warriors against their own. My uncle always reminded me that the day my parents died on the battlefield, witches had used spells to blind the wolves and weaken their strength. That was enough reason for me to despise them. Enough reason to never want to hear their name near our pack again.

"The stories begin the same way." Her voice settled into the rhythm of an old tale. "One unbearably hot afternoon, two witches went into labor. They were sisters of the same coven. Both carried children conceived with human men. When the births were over..." She paused. "...both babies were boys." My mother lowered her cup.

I took a deep breath and then started speaking again. “In the past seven days, I kept on researching more about the dark witches and their history. According to what I found, in ancient times, these witches were those witches who practiced outside of traditions, developed or created something harmful to all creatures, or used their magic and skills to hurt people.” They all nodded when I paused.

Bloodfang did not. They believed we would join their enemies if given the chance. So they hunted us, destroyed what we had built, and declared that witches had no place among werewolves.” I felt the hairs on my arms rise as I listened. I had grown up hearing stories about witches, but they had always been told as warnings. Dangerous creatures. Unpredictable beings. No one had ever spoken about what had been done to them. Mother’s voice remained steady as she spoke.

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.