Witch Poetry Novels & Stories

But Diane and Paris were faster. My friends descended upon the witches with unrelenting fury. The witches cast frantic spells, but my wind reversed their efforts, sending their magic hurtling back at them. Diane and Paris leapt midair, shifting into their wolf forms as they collided with their prey. Their claws and fangs shredded the witches in a savage, poetic justice. The witches’ screams filled the battlefield, but it was short-lived. Diane and Paris stood victorious, blood dripping from their muzzles as they howled in triumph. Sharon had been avenged.

He smiled, remarking how that day had replayed in his mind continuously for the past six years. As the witches commenced their chant in an unfamiliar tongue, a sudden wind began to displace items from the table, sending papers into a flurry. The candles, once lit, flickered to black. Krystal urged everyone to retreat, explaining that black candles signify malevolence and expressing her doubts about the ritual. Her mother reassured her, insisting that this needed to transpire for life to progress positively.

The tale sent shivers down her spine; it was so wonderfully written, and the emotions that came from it were too real. As she read, a gust of wind suddenly blew across the room, and the pages flipped. She was surprised, knowing that she had already closed everything. However, before she could even bother to worry about where that wind came from, she was already drawn to a section where the pages had landed. It was about a ceremony for the werewolf prince to choose his mate. The possible mates were all invited to their palace to participate in this very important event. After the ceremony, the prince would then take over the title of King.

But now, I cannot stand idly by while my daughter sleeps in a cage. Taking a deep breath, I resolve that if Arthur refuses to release Yvonne, I will be compelled to use magic on him once more. With determination, I stride into the long passage, my hand poised before me. In my centuries of existence, I have clung to the elegance of long bridal dresses and veils, struggling to adapt to the fashion of the 21st century. Yet within the fortress, all the female wolves emulate my style. Blessed with eternal youth as a wolf witch, I maintain a timeless beauty.

He coughed for a long time, clutching his heart like he would stop breathing before he vomited a dead scorpion. "The witch used the scorpion to poison your pure desire for a mate, making your wolf confused enough to take her as his mate. And with the kiss, you lay on her mouth every time and you lying with her, the spell keeps becoming stronger," she said, then hitting Brian on his back.

Lycidas, ever the acrobat, performed a series of silent backflips and spins to avoid detection, his warlock abilities enhancing his agility and speed. As they neared the center of the village, they saw a small group of pixies still awake, their wings glimmering in the dim light. Lupa, sensing the danger, conjured a thick, swirling mist that enveloped the area. The pixies, confused by the sudden fog, drifted away in search of clearer air, allowing the group to pass unnoticed.

A wolf — a huge gray one — tore a wraith apart with its teeth, a brutal snap of its jaws. The wraith dissolved into a wisp of smoke, and another took its place. They kept coming — slipping through the trees like oil — and for every one we destroyed, another appeared. The witches’ runes burned brighter as they continued to chant. “Adura volantis! Lux ignis!” A bolt of light shot from a witch’s palm, slamming into a wraith’s chest. The creature screeched, smoke curling from the impact, but it didn’t fall. It didn’t even slow down.

Each of us fought fiercely, our spells weaving intricate patterns of defense and attack. I could feel the raw energy coursing through me, the power of my eternal wolf stirring within, ready to leap into action. The witches beside me chanted their incantations, their voices rising and falling in a rhythmic cadence that was both haunting and beautiful. Their magic clashed with the dark witches, creating a storm of energy that crackled through the air.

, he tells pointing towards one clay tablet which has letters written in old Latin language which is different than the evolved Latin which humans know, being a witch I clearly understand and can read it since my childhood. “usus vulpis rubri mortui sanguinis ad tollendum venenum e lamia efficax est cum sol corpus ferit”, I read it out loud unconsciously deep in the thoughts. I remember seeing few vampires coming and leaving my parents work place when I was young, but I didn’t knew that witches and wizards used to note down these things when they have photogenic memory and they teach others practically making medicines than giving notes. “What was that?”, Dr Wilson asks curiously to which I

"It's your promise, Sevina... You must never break it." The words from the late Queen hovered in her head as Queen Sevina mused about her decisions. She had given her word to the previous King and Queen and it was a rule among the witches to always live up to their promise. If she did one thing that would betray them, she would lose her immortality and her freedom... she would be sent back to Mysticia and will no longer be given the chance to see the humans again. It was one thing she didn't want to ever happen, and that was why she took the risk and agreed to everything.