Witchcraft Novels Novels & Stories

I let Santiago go off and do what he wants as I go looking for the right caravan that holds the witch; It doesn't take me long to follow her scent; I knock on her door and as she opens it I grab her neck, forcing her back inside, closing the door behind me. I keep pushing her back until she hits the opposite wall, and I am flush up against her. I take a deep breath, running my nose along her neck and smile as she shivers in fear. I tighten my hold on her throat so that she can't chant any spells and whisper into her ear, "I am only asking this once and I will only loosen my fingers enough for you to answer, understand? And if you don't answer, I can and will kill you!" She nods her head. I t

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.

Once Draco left, I thoroughly checked tiny hut, there were empty pots, I hurriedly carried two pots outside and filled them with water from water well that was behind this hut and brought that back in, since it was warm as burning frying pan I decided to take cold water bath, I scrub and cleaned my body clean, once done I washed my gown and hung it up on string that was inside tiny washroom and walked out by wrapping towel around my body, this was thin and short town that was reaching up to my knees. I sat on small wooden stool that was present inside, since Draco was not back yet , I decided to go though my bag, I pulled out all four books that was written by my grandmother on Dark Creature

We watched as the witch took down their protective runes, and the barriers around them went down. In the blink of an eye, everything went black, and the warriors moved in. As one, in silence, they disarmed every trap; every weapon was taken, and the hunters started to fall like flies, bound with wolfbane strong enough to weaken them but not strong enough to kill. They tried to run. But as I stepped out from the shadow in front of them, the guys made quick work of getting them bound, but one of them wasn't going down easily, so I kicked him in the leg, and he fell to his knees.

I asked. She shut the book in her lap and threw it aside in anger before going for another one. I got onto my knees and picked up a few other papers that lay by her side. As I fumbled through them, I couldn’t miss a few titles. Witchery for wolves A wolf’s curse Witches and the Wolves The ancient art of Witchery Witchers: The supernaturals healers. “Witches?” I asked, looking at her, “Why are you reading up on the witches?”

she began. "A 'Witch', before the Cataclysm refers to those who worship a Demigod or two. Due to unmatched beliefs, they were treated as outcasts. Their close ties with their patrons was envied by the orthodox faction, and they started preaching about such relationship being impure, and that it voids the divine characteristic of a deity, be it a demigod or a major God. Afterwards, they had resorted to the occult hunts and execution." Those information were completely new to him, and somehow disturbing to note. Still, he kept his ears open to listen on what she is saying.

The screaming starts. We do not find out much. The witches that are attacking are not part of a particular coven. They are almost like rogues traveling alone or in small groups. Someone just shows up and gives them their assignment. Hester did not know who this person was nor did she see their face. The woman just shows up gives them information on where to go and what spell to use.

he accused, his eyes narrowing. Susan walked away, refusing to engage further. "I'm not done talking to you, Susan," Drake insisted, following her. “I know, and I don't plan on leaving yet," she replied calmly, taking a seat on the couch. Drake sighed heavily as he settled onto the couch opposite her. Susan cleared her throat, breaking the silence. “Drake, no one is brainwashing us. This is our reality. We are witches, and we have traditions, customs, and rituals that must be performed when needed," she explained patiently.

She did not know whether she was protector, witness, or supplicant, only that she could not remain apart from the heat and the ache. And in the hour that followed, the stone ring—so long a place of warding and division—became a crucible for something more elemental. The witches surrendered to each other, weaving a tapestry of bodies and breath, dissolving the boundaries again and again until nothing but the moon’s light could tell them apart.

With forbidden knowledge. It was almost indecently thrilling. I pulled the nearest volume toward me and opened it. The pages were brittle, edges browned with age. The script was cramped but surprisingly elegant, some sections in fading ink, others in more recent, sharper strokes where later scribes had added notes. I scanned headings. “Pact of the Seven Rivers—Alpha Thorne of Redclaw and the Water‑Binder Witches.” “Blood Price of the Crescent War.” “On the Folly of Binding Wolves to Moon Sorcerers.”