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Fantasy Woodhurst

taliaangeni

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Woodhurst


It’s true, there are witches and warlocks. There are difference in the two such as witches are good and warlocks have done something to turn dark. It’s an insult to call a witch a warlock. The line between the two is iffy. Since the beginning of time witches have been hunted. Hunters don’t distinguish between the two. Warlocks bring demons into the world to do their bidding. If their spells aren’t strong enough to hold the demon, the demon can then kill the warlock for his powers and try to destroy everything. Luckily, demons haven’t been summoned in a long while, that we know of. The town of Woodhurst has many secrets and the story is only beginning.
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Coded By || StoneWolf18 StoneWolf18
 
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It was dark but for the candles glow flickering against the wall. Clara sat cross legged on the old wooden floor in the garage that was converted into a store when she was twelve. Her brother, Byron, sat in front of her in the same position. He was the only one she could trust to do something as stupid as this. Under them, drawn on the floor in goat blood was a pentagram. Blood wasn't just used for dark magic. It heightened the power. Clara figured since she nor Byron could conjure if they used blood and there being two of them it would help the situation.

The situation was that their mother, Arya, had been gone a month. It wasn't unusual for Arya to leave for business and be gone for a while. What was strange is they hadn't heard from her. The last straw had been when Byron asked one of his friends to scry for her. Nothing. Cloaking was one of Arya's powers but why would she cloak herself? Why would she be gone for a month without contact?

"It's almost time," Byron said as he held Charlie, his familiar in his hands. They only had one chance to do this or else wait until the next night. Three AM was the witching hour.

"Jimmy," Clara called and the gerbil ran into her open hand. She watched the clock hanging on the wall on her left side. She could hear the tick-tick of the second hand and it matched the ticking of her heart. This had to work. A bowl with water, two Athames, and a wrinkled piece of paper that had a spell written on it sat between them.

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM. Three AM. The brother and sister grabbed their knives and struck their familiars. A pang rang in Clara's chest. She hated using Jimmy this way. This spell required the heart of someone you loved. She clearly couldn't kill her brother. Blood dripped between her fingers as she released a limp Jimmy into the bowl. Jimmy and Charlie lay their as Clara and Byron joined hands. Quivering lips, Clara recited the spell with Byron. As the last word left her lips the candles blew out but light was being illuminated by the pentagram under them.

Clara leaned forward to look into the bowl filled with water, blood, and the remains of their familiars. A glaze came over the water and vibrations with it. "Is this supposed to happen," she whispered.

"He didn't sa-" Before Byron could finish, a hand shot out of the water. Clara screamed and jumped back, out of the circle. Byron crab walked out. "That's not supposed to happen."

"Whatever comes out should be trapped by the pentagram." She hoped.

Suddenly the hand turned into an arm and then two arms. A head and torso pulled itself out of the bowl. The black eyes scanned the room and landed on Byron and then Clara. It laughed, fangs protruding from its lips. "Stupid witches." A second later and it was gone. The candles lit back up.

"What did we just do?" Clara asked a wide eyed Byron.
 

The things speaking to Maggie in her dreams had become louder and more insistent this night, claiming that they were free and waiting for her call. It was disconcerting, to say the least. All these entities, whispering offers of power- which one to choose?

To her dying day, she'd never understand why she did what she did. She drew strange symbols on her bedroom floor, took out a black candle she'd made a few days earlier, and lit it. Pricking her finger with a needle, she watched as a single drop of her blood fell into the flame. Then she spoke. A name? A title? She wasn't sure. "Come, Dark One. I welcome you into my midst and my soul. Kalisel. Kalisel! Kalisel!"

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Maggie shrugged. After all, it wasn't like she actually believed in demons or anything like that. Then, a gout of black smoke erupted from the candle flame, forming a humanoid shape with two red eyes. Maggie was so frightened, she nearly fainted. "Greetings, young warlock. I am Kalisel, Merchant of Chaos. What do you seek from me?"

Maggie recovered quickly- the demon had to give her credit. But what did she want? Money? Power? Fame? When she responded, the answer was something that should never have come out of the mouth of a high school senior. "For now, I want a teacher. Someone who can guide me down the blackest roads, to powers no mortal has dared wield before. But long term? I want everything."

 
Years had passed and still she dreamed of the flames, their vibrant sickly green color and the acrid stench. Again it woke her up from a dead sleep, her sheets plastered to her exposed arms and legs by the same cold sweat the dream always triggered.

She laid still, forcing her eyes back shut, willing sleep to claim her again, but this time like every time before, it was elusive. The harder she closed her eyes she closed her eyes the less vivid the images became. All she could remember were various fleeting images, one part dream, one part memory and all parts horror.

"It's useless..."
she thinks aloud, taking a look over at her alarm clock. The electric blue led lights read '4:00' AM. She cringed inwardly at the hour, in her mind it was too late to head back to sleep but entirely too early to start the day. She scrubbed a hand across her face and let out a yawn before taking a look around the room. Her gaze was met by a pair of eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness of the loft.

"You've got to stop doing that."
came a familiar voice, "You're not in there alone, and besides, you've already tried this way, and it didn't work out that time either." Bartholomew was right of course, he always was when it came to things like that. She'd hoped that the altered potion would keep her under the entire night and give her more time to explore the dreamscape. This time was no different, she saw herself inside of the house,moments before the blaze was sparked she'd just stepped outside of her child self's form and begun to find the origin of the blaze before she was pulled back to the waking world tired, sweaty, and sorely needing coffee.

"Well back to the drawing board."
she says through another yawn. The large cat rolls it's eyes at her, "You should have gone back to the drawing board with that idea months ago." came his sarcastic reply as he stretched gently kneading the fabric of the couch.

He watched her flick her wrist in the direction of the light switch and envelop the room in light as she shuffles into the kitchen. "No need to be so grumpy cat. You're not the one that has to go to set up the shop." she said with a smirk. "Then let me enjoy my own dreams instead of waking me with your nightmares, witch." she shrugged, "If If I could do it without you I would, but we're linked, so you'll just have to deal." he narrowed his eyes at her, giving his best approximation of a sneer before sauntering over and nuzzling himself up to her legs.

"Since you woke me up the least you can do is feed me."
she rolls her eyes at his request before reaching down to stroke him affectionately. "I guess I can get started on breakfast..." she replied before speaking again after a few moments had passed, "...but not until I've had my coffee."
 
The night air was cool and seemed to flow gently as Micha worked out in the forest the loomed over the edge Woodhurst. The tall male was mumbling silently to himself as he held his hands out in front of him, cupping a small object in his palms as he continued to repeat his chants until the small object elevated itself high above him and shone faintly in the pale moonlight.

"And...it's done." He said with a faint smile as a dark stone fell back into his palm as he rolled it over and began to rub his thumb over its smooth surface. "Mercy." Micha stated simply as if speaking to himself before watching the small canine quickly make her way over to his right side, panting softly as she looked up at him wagging her tail happily.

"I have something for you, nothing big..just something to keep you safe if I'm not around." Micha whispered as he began to insert the stone into a hollowed center of her collar. "Just black onyx..a precaution if any." He said before backing off as the stone finalized it's binding within its new resting place.

"I think we've spent enough time out here tonight, don't you?" He said with a soft smile as he checked his watch for the time. It was already nearing 4 Am which meant the witching hour would come to pass soon, so he grabbed his bag and tossed in the few items he came with: Candles, his Athame, And book of Shadows which he planned to record this ritual in later today. But for now the pair had began hiking back down the path they took as the sun began to rise off in the distance, allowing small rays of orange to fill what was left of the night sky as they moved along and out back onto the streets of Woodhurst. "Feel like breakfast?" Micha asked as he looked over at Mercy as she barked happily at the offer.

"Hmph of course you do." He smiled as they continued on, and with a slight nod of his head the streets began to lightly fog around them as they moved closer towards the main streets as people began to wake and get ready for their jobs which he should also be doing but he always made a habit of being fashionably late.
 
Fred took a long slow sip from the mug she cradled in her hands and let a small satisfied smile play across her lips. The old myths tell that the Olympians maintained their divinity by consuming nectar and ambrosia. She was sure that if they'd had or known about coffee way back then that they'd have used it instead. As far as she was concerned it held it's own sort of magic, the power to rouse even the sleepiest of souls and get them ready for the day. she managed to take another slow sip before Bartholomew's thoughts interrupted her zen. "You promised me food woman... now pay up before I use your shoes for a litter box."

She grimaced at the thought of what he might do before turning and reaching into the cabinet for a can of wet food. It was times like this that she'd wished that she'd named him Lucifer or another more fitting name rather than Bartholomew, and more over that she'd thought through the idea to meld souls with him a bit more thoroughly. Sure it strengthened their already considerable bond but at the same time it made them privy to one another un-warded thoughts. She emptied the can into his bowl and tossed the empty container into the rubbish before setting it in front of him and replying flippantly "Bon appétit monsieur chat..."

As Barty sat stuffing his face Fred thought back to the years spent with her aunt, the summers in particular. She remembered being taught French a full year ahead of when she was required to take a foreign language, and all of the lessons about crafting talismans and brewing potions. She'd become so wrapped up in her thoughts that it took Barty digging his claws into her slightly to pull her back to the present.

"You need to stop doing that to yourself." he said worry painting the tone of his voice, "She's gone... her life is over, but yours isn't. You need to focus on the here and now."

He could have been a little more gentle with his delivery but he was right, for better or for worse Savannah was gone and she, was still here, and she needed to keep her vision focused ahead. On the grand opening of the shop in particular. Thankfully there wasn't all that much that still needed to be done. The shelves had been spelled years ago to assemble themselves to best fit the room they were placed in. and had done their work overnight.

All that remained was for her to stock and organize the shelves before she opened shop for the first time in a new town.

Her little stroll down memory lane had zapped what little appetite that she had and so instead of raiding the fridge for leftovers she instead shuffled off into the bathroom for a nice hot shower. In her opinion the second best thing in thing in the world, coming in a close second to coffee.
 
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Kiera arrived at Woodhurst last night. Her aunt's house lived in a two storey house, which looked pretty small on the outside, but it was fairly large on the inside. It was in a pretty secluded area too, with a forest behind it. She was given the guest room, the one on the second floor with a window overlooking the forest. It was alright, but it smelt a little bit like mothballs and burnt wood.

Kiera awoke up to the sound of someone calling her name. It was light outside, and also a bit cold in her room. She groaned. She did not want to wake up. The voice kept calling her name. She opened her eyes and looked groggily around for the source. No one was there, but the window was opened. Maybe her aunt came in at night to open it. Or maybe she opened it last night and forgot about it.

"Oh god, I'm going crazy," she muttered, and she buried her head underneath her covers.
Someone tugged at her blanket. There's no way that could have been her imagination. Kiera shot up from bed.
"I'm awake!" she yelled.
"Kiera? Is everything alright?" asked her aunt from downstairs, her voice muffled by Kiera's closed door.
"I don't know, a voice wants me to wake up!"
"I am not a voice," said the voice.
Kiera looked at the foot of her bed. A large bird with glossy black feathers stared at her through brilliant blue eyes.
"Choose the raven when you search for a familiar, Starr," it smiled, and it flew out her open window.

Her aunt opened her door.
"I'm going crazy," said Kiera, staring at her with wide eyes. "Some creepy bird talked to me. It knew my name. It smiled. Birds can't smile, they don't even have lips! Oh god, I think I need help..."
 
The rest of it was just hashing out the details. Kalisel offered her terms, Maggie made a counteroffer, and the two agreed by signing a contract in their own blood. With that, Maggie dismissed the demon with a curt wave of her fingers. Impertinent? Yes. Worth it? Most definitely.

Maggie couldn't sleep, though. The enormity of what she had done kept buzzing through her head. She needed to clear her mind, figure out her next step. She walked down to the park and sat on a bench, looking up at the night sky.
 
Two steaming cups and one lengthy shower later Fred was downstairs stocking the shelves, or rather spelling her inventory to stock and organize itself. When she was younger she could remember Savannah claiming that she overused her craft, spelling objects to act of their own accord for no other reason than her own enjoyment. Her counter argument was always the last eight words of the Wiccan Rede, "...an it harm none, do what ye will."

The memory brought a bitter sweet smile to her face, but before she could think any more on it the last of the items settled and arranged themselves neatly on their respective displays. "It's almost time to open up shop." She thought to Bartholomew as he came slinking down the steps and leaping silently up onto the counter. "That was a lot of work." He replied as he stretched out and curled himself into what looked to be a rather large fuzzy pincushion. "You didn't lift a whisker to help." She replied rolling her eyes. She shook her head at him as she did her last minute walk through of the shop.

Six o'clock had come and gone and it was nearly seven, before she was satisfied that everything was as it should be. And it was with a self satisfied smirk that she strolled out the door of her own shop and and made her way down the street down the street, toward the park to get a celebratory treat from the the local diner.
 
The clock struck six o'clock and Clara was still in the garage, eyes glued to the pentagram. A tickling sensation on her hand had her looking down. It was Jimmy. She opened her hand and he walked into her palm. "Welcome back." Her pointer finger petted Jimmy, comforting her.

Byron walked into the garage with a slice of pizza hanging from his mouth and another in his outstretched hand. "Want some," he asked around the pizza.

"How can you think at a time like this?" With eyes wide and mouth hanging open she looked a Byron. "We released something. How can you be eating?"

Byron looked clueless. "I'm...hungry." With a raised brow he shrugged. "We can clean it up. No one has to know we did it."

"Magic leaves a trail, Byron." Clara stood, Jimmy clutched to her chest. "Someone will know. Not immediately but they will. And when they do we're in big trouble." They would be considered warlocks and looked down upon by the community of witches. "We need to cast a protection spell in case that thing decides to come back here."

Glancing at the pentagram, Clara walked to the table with all the ingredients they had for potions. She stroked the bottles, Arya and she had collected these together. The rarer the ingredients the better the potions. It took twenty minutes for the potion to come together. She divided it and gave Byron the other half before going outside and starting to spread it at every door entrance and window.
 
Micha sat still with mercy as the two looked out at the park, he finally allowed the sky to clear up which let the morning sun shines brightly onto the sleepy little town. His eyes wandered over the green fields as memories of running through here as a child flashed into his head and soon were replaced with visions of him practicing the craft with little puppy mercy at his side. "Things sure have changed girl." He sighed and gave the dog a light scratch behind her ears as he smiled softly at her and reached into his bag, grabbing a small purple ball.

"One for old times sake?" He asked while watching mercy hop happily to her feet, with her tail wagging quickly as he threw the ball letting it soar across the fields and onto the playground. And as mercy neared it he felt his vision beginning to cloud slowly and could see mercy was standing completely still now as the same happened to her.

Voices, distorted and loud..almost shouting at Micha as he stood I'm completely darkness but he could also feel a heavy presence. Before Micha could investigate it was over and he was back in the park with mercy sitting in front of him as he sighed. "We couldn't have one day.." the dark haired male hissed as he dropped himself onto the bench. "When have we ever have normal days?" Mercy asked as she tilted her head a bit at the witch. "What the hell was that anyway?" She asked while dropping the ball from her teeth back into his bag. "The hell if I know, it felt dark...someone may have been playing with dark magic is all, nothing to worry about." Micha stated simply as he leaned back on the bench and watched mercy take her place at his feet.

"I hate these damn visions." He mumbled as he rubbed his now aching head. "I know Micha..I know."
 

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