The Witch Novels & Stories

"Well, there is one that I've heard from your grandmother as a child. About a wolf and a witch. Would you like to hear them?" "I do! I do, mama. What is it about?" She chuckled at his eagerness "Well, a long time ago, there was a legend shared in the midst of the wolves. It's about the wolf king and a beautiful witch." "What does this wij do mama? What power does this wij have?". "Legend says the witch has the power to create, control and turn things to ice. She was the descendant of the Goddess Khione." "Oh, isn't she the famous snow goddess mama?"

"For a witch." "For my mate," Kael said. "The species is irrelevant to the law." "The species," Maren said, and now the pleasantness in her voice had thinned to something underneath it, something cold and very old, "is the entire point of the law, Kael. Ordinance Seventeen exists because wolf witches are a destabilizing force. They can unravel the bonds that hold packs together. They can unmake what the moon built." Her eyes moved to me. Cool and direct and entirely without warmth. "This one tried to sever your bond the moment she met you. You told me as much in your report."

All the while, I’m hating myself, but if I’m going to get out of here, I need to capture my captor. Witches are basically humans with magic. They can’t heal the way wolves can, which makes them weak physically. She is wrapped up in lust, perfect, as she throws her head back I wrap the chains around her neck twice and squeeze. “Austin! What are you doing?!” She gags. “Who are you?!” I whisper menacingly and squeeze tighter.

And there, standing between two of the tallest monoliths, was her. She didn't run. That was my first mistake, thinking she would. "You're trespassing," I called out, my hand moving to my blade. My wolf surged forward, pressing against my consciousness, demanding I shift and tear her apart. The witch turned to face me. She was younger than I expected, maybe thirty winters at most. Dark hair spilled over her shoulders, and her eyes caught the moonlight like chips of amber. She wore simple robes, no armor, no visible weapons.

A shimmering, crystalline projection floated in the center of the room, casting a pale blue light over my features as it replayed the scene below in high definition. I watched the silver-haired witch move. She was a debacle - a beautiful, jagged error in the fundamental laws of magic. She shouldn't have been able to summon that scythe. The weight of the Mors Aeterna should have crushed her soul into dust, yet she swung it like she was reclaiming a lost limb.

Despite her delicate appearance, she emanated a quiet power that made even the most formidable members of our pack take notice. Meredith, a witch, is one of the few beings in our world who possesses the gift of eternal youth. Unlike werewolves, whose lives were measured by the cycles of the moon and the passage of time, witches existed outside those boundaries, their bodies untouched by the ravages of age. It was said that they harnessed the very essence of life itself, drawing upon ancient magic to remain forever young.

She spoke in between gritted teeth. The dwarf witch laughed again, this time louder and maliciously. “I am the great witch of the seven oceans. I’ve lived alone in this coven for a thousand years. There’s nothing impossible for me to do, except if it’s the will of the formidable gods and goddesses. You yearned for the love of the Alpha of the Silver Crust Pack for so long, but he’s not your mate, and his destiny doesn’t lie with you, but…” The dwarf witch stopped and stared coldly at her, making Imelda curious and anxious.

My witch. The word punched through my skull for the hundredth time in the last ten minutes. My witch. I’d always known she carried it—something old, something rare, something the rest of the world would destroy or exploit if they ever sensed it. I thought I had more tune before it awakened, I’d prepared for slow shifts, small bursts, subtle flares. Not this. Not the ground cracking open beneath her feet, not the purple blaze swallowing rogues whole, not the wind she summoned with a flick of her fingers that sent warriors—full-grown wolves—sliding backward across stone like feathers.

He backs up slowly. The girl, or monster, or whatever she was, kept her spooky eyes on Ryan and, tilting her head, smiled evilly. She stretches her bony arms out, and Ryan flies into the air. He struggles and screams, but the "thing" laughs. “It's a witch. Mother told us about them. That same was good and others very bad. This is a bad one.” - say Ice. - What a surprise – the witch says – I was thinking that I had caught fresh meat for dinner, and, after all this time waiting, I finally caught a wolf. His spirit will feed my magic.

"What's your name, wolf?" "I...it's Anna," she gulped. "And how much did you hear, Anna?" Her fingers tightened around the front of her coat. "Everything." Fuck me sideways. "Do you know who I am?" "Yes, you're a witch." "Yes, I'm aware of that part. But do you know who I am?" I stressed the I. She shook her head. "I'm Winifred Whitmore." Her golden eyes widened. "The most powerful White Witch to have ever lived!" she gasped.