Witchcraft Basics Romane & Geschichten

Magic, capable of destroying even a demon. In her bedroom, Sarah threw open her closet. Stripping naked, she slipped into the black robes of her old coven, robes that would protect her from weapon and magic alike. A dagger, a wand, and a bracelet ringed with gemstones. With these three items, she had toppled fortress walls, brought an army to its knees, and even slain a werewolf pack intent on taking her head.

The Hunt was dedicated to killing all supernaturals, saying that we were unnatural demons who needed to be extinguished. The first group they went after were the witches. The witches were the easiest species to get rid of since they were basically human. They didn’t have magic wands, hands, or pinkies. The witches believed in making their own magic. They had books that were passed down from generations, teaching them to make potions. They read directions out of a book, mixed some things together, said a few words, and poof the outcome is a potion. They had no sort of immediate defense once their potions were gone because they had to prepare them days in advance.

I interjected. “Yes son, stronger than a neophyte or acolyte,” my father responded, “most common witches are neophytes, their powers are limited to telekinesis and minor spells. An apprentice is one step higher than neophytes. They had practiced better magic that could kill. If there is an apprentice, then there is strong coven here nearby.”

He kept Viola in the company of the Durantes because he believed that she would be safer there. Gwenda Mae came from a long line of Salem witches, witches who could chanel. The Salem witches were a closely knit group. They had a way of channeling their powers among each other, it was what made them strong. They were also well versed in witchcraft and had extensive knowledge on control and balance. Viola needed a tutor, someone that would help her learn control and find a way to use her powers. Someone he could trust to do his bidding. Someone that Viola would learn to depend on.

The slight rise and fall of her body, the low purr that vibrates through her, and the softness of her fur keep me from stopping the ritual. The witch lays her herb bundle down, taking up a bottle filled with a dark liquid. Standing, she uncaps the bottle and sprinkles the liquid around the circle as her chanting becomes louder. She traces shapes along the edge of the circle, bringing them in and around Erie, and then around me when she gets to my side. The lines cross and connect between me and Erie, flaring a brighter purple when she flings an unknown powder out. Is this really going to work? I’d seen my mother do rituals before, but never anything like this.

Three wizards raised their hands, purple webs spinning like spider nests. “Mira!” I shouted. Mira raised both palms, drawing a circle of resistance. A silver shield bloomed, enveloping the ritual like thin glass. Tavien followed from behind, throwing pulsating rune nails. “Destroy!” I charged. The silver sword at my waist finally revealed its true power. It struck the ground in a sweeping motion. The circle broke just as Mira spun the shield into a counterpressure. The purple web shattered, the three witches rolled backward in the wave. The fourth mortar came like a small meteor, locking the center of the circle and melting the symbol into mud.

“I didn’t die, Dad. It was a trick. A trap of the Old Witch.” He broke the way only a father can break when grief is undone. He sobbed once — loud — then pulled her into his arms with a strength he didn’t even know he still had. Sarah lowered her head. She knew this moment mattered. She didn’t interrupt. She slipped back into the kitchen to give them space. **** Night settled over the ridge. Stars thinned like a thousand candles among the clouds. Kira worked mixing potions — in her attic — She stood alone, under her runes, not fortune runes that are used to read fate, but working runes that are used to shift fate.

He promises. I nod and let him be. He draws a large circle and a witch's rune and sits in the middle. In one swift movement, he douses the bucket on himself and breathes. The witch wriggles in her seat trying to break free. "Dearna i a' bruidhinn dé tha dolaidh, bris an t-sàr agus na crìochan, agus tha an t-àm pian a' bhòrd.” I hear Damian say and the witch begins to shake violently.

Her hands were cold and steady as they sought out my own, “Witches naturally have a better intuition than most, but our skill still varies. Most of us get feelings through touch, but the rare few can pick up bits of information.” “Can you do that?” I asked, forcing the unease far from my eyes, shoving it down where it couldn’t be seen. “Really, it’s not as ominous as I’m making it out to be.” Her laughter was light, making her shoulders gently shake. “Every witches energy is different. By holding your hands, I’m able to seek out that energy with my own. First lesson, this particular trick is a form of passive magic. It happens on its own without my control or say. Active magic requires conce

The strong wind elevate her off the forest floor slowly and soon she is levitating. A misplaced thunder hits the forest floor and all the rogues were burnt instantly but the bones remains. Another wind rushed past my ears, humming crazily and I almost got swept away. The wind rustle the remaining dry leaves on the floor and dispersed the rogues bone, arranging them in a almost perfect circle to form a symbol I couldn't see well because of my failing vision. My knee became weak, completely giving up beneath me and I was forced to lay on my back.