Witch Book Covers Novels & Stories

One never knew when that information could come in handy. Plus, it’d help to pass the time and keep me busy. Sounded like a win-win to me. There was some type of writing on the front that I couldn’t read, but I could feel the power radiating off of the book. Strangely, Bex couldn’t feel it. I opened the cover, revealing an intricate colored illustration that showed a large silver wolf standing below a blood moon, its head tilted back in a howl. Light from the moon fell in rays onto the wolf.

It was old and the cover was made of leather as well. Wiccan was scrapped on the cover in cursive. This must have been the witch diary. I opened the book and the words were in English. Thank the lord. I did not know how much translating I would have to do if it were in Spanish. The pages were brown and hard, which made the book unnecessarily thick. I closed the diary and placed in on my lap then pulled out the second book. Lycan was scrapped on the cover as well and it did not take a genius to know what this book was about. I opened it as well and it was in English too. I closed the book and placed both books back into the bag.

“Is the book of Eilistrae.” She set the heavy, leather-bound tome on a small table. It was massive- the size of a small television- bound in dark brown leather that looked almost black with age. Strange symbols were burned into the cover: a swirling spiral, a dagger, and a star with thirteen points. In the center was a handprint, pressed deep into the leather, almost like a seal. “Only those with witch blood can open it,” Bonnie explained, and she nodded at Ava. “Go on, baby.”

They were pale blue, swirling with light, the color of winter storms and strong ice. She had made wings. Not griffin wings in the way the old stories told. These were ice...shards of frozen light that arched from her shoulders like cathedral windows, dark as obsidian, translucent as smoke. They pulsed with her heartbeat. They dripped frost like tears. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. And I was the only one who knew what she truly was. A witch. The word settled in my chest like a stone. Not heavy. Not cold. Just... true. Everything clicked into place. The ice. The scars. The binding. The way she had no scent to everyone yet smelled like Herbs and Lavender to me.

“Ass waving ? The witches ?” “Soleil doesn’t emit any scents. The witches do not do that, so they can better defend themselves against the enemy. So I have never smelled it and no one told me about, yes, you know, the taste. That it is so violent on our senses”. "What the hell are you raving about, kid ?"

Someday, Gideon may need to teach both Rafe and any children Rosie and I have, how to be witches while I teach them how to be wolves, because if they are anything like my Rosie, they will be powerfully double-blessed. I move aside some clothing and a few books and find at the very bottom of the trunk the source of all the ringing. Wrapped in silk, and wrapped in a strong leather case is a silver mirror. It is a beautiful piece of art. The frame is shaped to look like a forest of trees, their branches creating a lace filigree of their branches, which blossom with large dogwood flowers that almost seem to grow and change before my eyes.

What can I say, I have always rooted for the underdogs, and people rebellious enough to challenge the damning status quo? The air swirled around the victor, encasing him in a form of prison, the water formed a barricade between him and the other one, and the ball of flame engulfed his three-edged fork and claws, slowing the descent, but it was not of the fiery kind, like that of the colour of the sun, but a blue flame which depicted my kind of witch. I figured my actions would give the creature surrendering a moment to rethink his decision and perhaps run. But that didn't happen.

Making my back arch until my shoulders flattened against the table. Next to me the tipped candle caught the cloth afire. Blooming into an orange flame as he entered me. It spread wildly and I tossed my head to look at it. Panting nervously. “Don’t worry about that.” He waved a dismissive hand and the fire doused as if a bucket had been thrown on it. The black hole in the tablecloth smoking haplessly. Warlock magic. I yelped and clawed at the tablecloth. He growled low in his throat and stroked deeply into me. Withdrawing until only the heavy tip lingered inside. Then he eased back in. Embedding deeply again and making me gasp from the foreign feeling of being pushed open.

Drowning in a sea of fruity bubbles and warm vanilla, appreciating the comfort it was bringing me. As I let my body soak, I peered through the thick fog that encased my bathroom, gaze settling on a book that laid nearby. The cover was a dark film of gray smoke, streaks of midnight blue and black dancing through the haze of gray. A pair of golden colored eyes peered through the smoke, gleaming dangerously at those that gazed at the cover.

In times they said that its origin was the treasure chest of the mermaids and it had powers when immersed in water hit by the sun. - Great pleasure! — The visitors said. — Pirates, looking for jewels, the most valuable... — Lakayna commented with a smile. —Are you a witch? — Igor whispered as he noticed. Witches had a very strong aura and energy. Lakyana smiled mischievously. — I thought they didn't notice! — Broom commented Zeuck: — Maybe you could join us on the trip! — Zeuck suggested. - No!! I have already found my home. — Broom kissed his wife's hand. — I have a beautiful wife, children and…