Witchcraft Guide Novels & Stories

Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh! The remaining seven elders waved their hands, throwing out their talismans in an instant. All sorts of wretched shapes resembling different things appeared in the air. Foxes, pythons, and even a cyclops appeared. Harvey sighed, then flicked his finger again. Poof! The seven elders started coughing up blood, their bodies trembling instinctively. “Witchcraft! What did you do?!” The leading elder was boiling in anger.

Wolves were pathfinders, Jacob had said, so I decided to tell him about my confusion regarding my own path. I asked him questions, too, wanting to befriend this spirit guide. I could vaguely recall a lecture I’d watched online about the Zuni tribe, and I knew that the amount of protection and guidance a fetish could give was related to how well cared for it was. I decided to do some more research into them. I skipped my shower, instead slipping my sweatshirt and tee off, putting a sports bra on, and then chucking my sweater back on again. I dug out a pair of gym leggings, too, rather than opting for shorts as I usually would. I wanted to be cosy today.

Sofux was the face of order, Mar, the face of fertility and so on. Aelfric was interested to learn that, contrary to his original notions, witches are not creatures of ritual, sacrifice, and potion. Their powers are of the mind. They can move objects with their minds, pick up on the thoughts and feelings of others, and even imbue inanimate objects with certain minor forms of consciousness. The spells that Davis concocts, are largely colaborations with his three comrades. Though he seemed to always get the credit, and praise for the group's magical feats.

Nightfang’s dead Alpha. “How do you make it the *right* ritual?” I asked. She shook her head, frustrated. “It depends on the witch,” she said. “On the terms. On what was promised and what was paid up front. My mother knew… *theories,* not specifics. She always said, ‘Never bargain where you can bleed instead of speak.’” Not enough. But more than silence. “What did your mother say about… bridges like me?” I asked. “About what happens if we cut the wrong thread?”

"I stole her mannerisms to slip into the real world. That's how it's done. Mimic, infiltrate." Devon nodded, stepping closer to me, his hand brushing my back possessively. I shrugged it off, but he just smirked. "You also need a powerful witch for the ritual. Chant an incantation the whole time you're there. If it breaks—any interruption—you get stuck. Die in seven days." I stared at the newcomers. "Who are these people?" Devon gestured casually. "The woman? Thelma. Our witch. Handles the spells, the crossings."

“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.

“Every path to this barrier sounds dangerous.” “That’s exactly what he wanted. If it seemed too terrifying to cross, then fewer people would venture into their realm. The safest path is through the Xatri River; there’s a tree in the middle of it which is rumored to be a portal to the realm, but to cross safely, you need guidance from the Order of Witches.” “The Order of Witches? Who are they?” “Think of them like the worshippers of the Moon Goddess; the difference is, they worship the Goddess of Chaos and dabble in the dark arts. They’re the only ones who can help you pass through the portal safely.”

She had told me she would drive as it would be easier than trying to navigate. “I dunno,” she said, “It’s not like a GPS where you get a location or anything. It’s just a feeling, like a light.” “So you’re following the light?” Katie asked and Harper nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.” Drake had explained that the Divine Warriors were connected by their grace. It was part of a whole and the need to reconnect in one form was strong enough that they could feel each other, even from afar. Up close, they each had a shimmer to them. I had of course noticed the shimmer in her fur when Harper shifted into her wolf but Harper said that she could see the same light around both Drake and Brighid. She said it

How I saw the Red One, Roweena, and Iona. “Can we replicate it?” Bhakti asks—always the pragmatist. “Definitely,” I say. “Any witch who knows the ritual can do it. They just need a little of my blood and a basic idea of who they’re looking for. Doesn’t even need to be a picture.” “What do you need?” Devin asks. I give him a list. He stares off into space—probably mindlinking someone. A few minutes later, a she-wolf I don’t recognize walks in, carrying everything I need. She smells faintly of the same soap Nathan used.

As each nail goes in, I feel time’s attention shift toward me, curious. Good. Let it look. While it looks, it isn’t pressing Eliza. This is what neutrality has always been: distraction disguised as duty. The last nail sinks into the dirt with a dull, satisfying sound. The air changes immediately. The hum of time dulls slightly, as if the hedge has swallowed some of the vibration. I exhale slowly and stand. Now comes the dangerous part. Not the magic. The asking. Because hedge witchery isn’t about commanding. It’s about persuading something ancient to care, briefly, about something human.