Witchcraft Novels Novels & Stories

This book is not a typical werewolf romance book. There will be romance but I won't go deep into it. I write this book with a new idea. I wanted to combine the werewolves, the witches and the spiritual realm together, and I can't achieve this with your help. I thank you all for the time you take to read the chapters I update and most importantly, I'll like to request something of you; - I will appreciate it if you will tell me how you feel about this book,

“They're called Aswangs. They're shape-shifting spirits that were once witches. Aswangs are created when a witch is killed horribly and can't move on to the afterlife until their wrong is righted. If Sahara killed the witches, she must have cursed them to serve her because Aswangs don't congregate together in that fashion. The only way to control so many Aswangs is to possess something that is dear to them. Witches are very suspicious of others, even their own. I wonder how the witch was able to take their prized possession?” My head tilts up as I contemplate the turn of events. “Mathias also told me that Sahara's coven died under mysterious circumstances. I'm going to hazard a guess that th

It was winter period when I first found my mate, she was beautiful and fair, had skin as white as snow, her hair was as flowy as velvet, and she had the voice of an angel. Perhaps, I was biased because she was mine, but it was the truth, one thing that kept me from pursuing her at first was that she was a witch. We werewolves and witches were not that close, we tend to get on each other’s nerves, so I knew my father would not approve, he was big on keeping to the rules.

And find out if there was any way to fix it. As she drove, Caitlin thought again of the rare books she had found in her library. Most of all, she that of that one rare volume, and its torn page. She thought of its ancient ceremony, the one in Latin, with its cure for vampirism. She wondered again if it was real. Was that just passed down from folklore? An old wives’ tale?

At least not today. She pushed to her feet, staring down at me with a hardness in her eyes that didn’t fit with her angelic features. I wanted to stand with her, but I couldn’t find the will to move. Suddenly, the air around us changed, becoming heavy and stale. My wolf began to whimper and all at once, I knew what was coming. “Sarah, don’t” I whispered, trying one more time to stave off the inevitable. But she never faltered. “I, Sarah Woods of the RedWoods pack, reject you, Finnick Cross, Beta of the Crimson Moon pack, as my Goddess-given mate.” Her voice was calm and steady as she spoke the words that destroyed me.

Wendy rolled her eyes, something told her she was lying, and Hayley must know very much about the things in this book. “Do you know about witches?” Wendy asked. That was all she had been seeing in the book. * Weston Hills was formerly a town of witches, a town of dark powerful witches. Amongst these witches were other supernatural creatures, spirits, vampires, werewolves, gargoyles, golems, and the rest of them. Most of them were extinct. Some years ago, these witches fled away due to the numerous attacks launched by humans on them. Though they had the power to fight back, they had to flee because they never wanted what was imprisoned to be returned. Weston Hills had other natural creatures,

I knew there was reluctance for some of the Mystic Moon pack as well to accept the red wolves into the pack and the easiest way to make it become a part of the way was for Rogan and I to unite once again. It didn’t matter what anyone had tried so far nobody could explain the power Athena had over him or how brainwashed he was. The doctors ran tests and my mother studied books on end to try to find a medical reason why Sarah the Red Priestesses searched through countless spells and books to find a way to break the horrible hex and to make matters worse the more we tried the more Rogan experienced physical pain in his head. He had marked me and his pain was my pain. We both were in agony.

Magic they feared. I run my fingers across the cracked spines until I find what I’m looking for: Ancient Witchcraft of the Forgotten Era. Bound in deep green leather, barely holding together. The writing on the cover is almost worn off. I carry it to one of the heavy tables near the back and sit. The pages whisper as I turn them, the old ink uneven, some parts blurred by time or water damage. Spells of healing. Curses of madness. Rituals of possession. Nothing I haven’t seen before—

“Lake Tahoe is human territory. We protect it, or we become the threat everyone fears.” Silence followed. Not resistance but serious consideration. Seraphine tilted her head slowly. “There were… ways,” she said at last. “Long ago.” My heart skipped. “What ways?” I asked. Her gaze flicked between me and Inferno, knowingly now. “Healers once worked with witches and warlocks. Bloodcraft. Preservation amplification. It wasn’t common. It wasn’t easy.”

Roger and Clarke said in unison. “News flash, I am not myself right now,” Miranda gestured, using her thumb to point at herself. Her body was a virgin, but the one she was stuck in was not. “Pure in this case doesn't mean a virgin status,” Lazarus scratched his head. “Why are you scratching your head? That makes me even more worried,” Nigel complained. “Well, the goddess Hecate wrote this book —” He hesitated. “Who's that?” Roger asked. “She's the goddess of witchcraft,” Miranda spoke up. “I read about her in the Vanderwolf's library. She is responsible for creating witchcraft. She is who the witches praise.”