something q

-
Here’s the start of your novella draft:


---

The Witches’ Rivalry

A Novella in Three Parts


---

Part I: The Circle of Fire

The clearing in the Ashenwood was bright with moonlight, though no stars dared shine overhead. Three figures stood in a triangle, each separated by a space of silence heavy with envy.

Rowena, with a mane of flame-red hair that caught every flicker of the moon, stood in the north. The earth itself seemed to rise beneath her feet, lending her the strength of roots and soil.

Selene, her golden locks glowing like a halo, stood in the east. Youngest of the three, her beauty was whispered of across villages, her laughter compared to bells, her eyes carrying the light of dawn.

Morrigan, cloaked in shadows with her jet-black hair streaming like a storm, stood in the west. Her spells were said to taste of iron and smoke, a dangerous dance of power too dark for most hearts to bear.

Between them, the air hummed with desire and bitterness.

They were bound not by sisterhood nor by coven law, but by the man who had entered their paths—Elias, the traveler with a poet’s tongue and a swordsman’s strength. He was no mere mortal in their eyes, but the one soul who had awakened something unguarded in each of them.

But Elias had chosen with the simplicity of human longing: his heart leaned toward Selene, the youngest, the golden-haired witch.

That truth was unbearable.

“Step aside, child,” Rowena hissed, her eyes gleaming. “You cannot hope to hold what you do not understand. Love burns hotter than your pretty little charms.”

Selene’s lips trembled, though not with fear. She lifted her palm, letting silver sparks weave between her fingers. “If he chooses me, it is his will. I will not yield him to your hunger.”

Morrigan laughed, low and sharp, raising her hand. The ground around her blackened, small flowers withering beneath her feet. “Fools, both of you. Men are not prizes, but tools. Elias will be mine because I will it so. And I do not lose.”

And then—their magic collided.

Bolts of green, gold, and violet crashed into the night air, fire spiraling against storm, light tearing through shadow. The clearing became a battlefield of witches, each spell a wordless declaration of desire, fury, and desperation.

Elias himself stood at the edge of the glade, wide-eyed, torn between awe and terror. His voice was lost beneath the roar of magic.

And still, it was only the beginning.


---

Part II: Ashes and Roses

The duel lasted until the first pale edge of dawn. Spells cracked the trees, fire singed the earth, winds howled through the glade. When silence finally fell, the three witches stood weakened, blood staining their lips, their breaths ragged.

Elias rushed forward, but Selene raised her hand, trembling. “Stay back, Elias… they will not stop. Not until one lies broken.”

Yet Elias, foolish as mortal men often are, stepped into the center of the triangle. His presence was a shield stronger than any spell, for in that moment, all three witches stilled, unable to strike while his heart beat so near.

“I will not be a prize,” Elias said, his voice hoarse. “Nor will I see you destroy yourselves for me.” His gaze fell to Selene, softening. “My heart… has chosen already. But if love leads to ruin, then none of us wins.”

Morrigan’s lips twisted into a smile without warmth. “He has spoken. And yet… what man’s heart has not changed before?”

Rowena lowered her gaze, flames dimming around her. “Do not think this is finished. What we desire, we fight for until the last breath.”

Selene swallowed her fear and touched Elias’ hand. The warmth of his palm grounded her, even as shadows of jealousy pressed in from both sides.

But love in a witch’s world is never safe.


---

Part III: The Price of Desire

In the weeks that followed, Elias and Selene tried to build something tender, a love shielded by laughter and quiet moments beneath the trees. But the air never ceased to feel heavy. Spells lingered like whispers in the dark—Morrigan’s curses that soured the air, Rowena’s charms that tried to twist Elias’ dreams.

Selene grew stronger, learning that love itself could be a weapon, weaving her heart into her magic. She shielded Elias with wards of light, slept beside him with spells on her tongue.

But both rivals were relentless.

Rowena, finally weary of bitterness, sought Selene one storm-washed night. “I see now his heart is not mine. Yet beware—Morrigan will not rest. She knows only conquest, never surrender.”

And true to those words, Morrigan struck when the moon was black. Her magic tore through Selene’s wards, shadows flooding Elias’ cottage. Elias fought as he could, but his mortal strength faltered.

The battle between the golden witch and the dark raged brighter than ever. Light and shadow became a storm. Elias fell, blood staining his chest as he tried to protect Selene.

Selene’s cry shattered the night. From her grief, a spell was born unlike any she had cast before—pure, unyielding love burning through every corner of her being. The light of it consumed Morrigan’s shadows, stripping her down to nothing but silence.

Morrigan vanished into smoke. Whether dead or merely banished, none could say.

But Elias lay dying.

Selene wept over him, her tears falling like silver fire. Rowena, arriving too late to stop the carnage, knelt beside her rival. “There is one spell… forbidden, but strong. Life for life.”

Selene’s eyes widened. “No…”

But Rowena placed her hand on Selene’s. “I have lost him. I will not lose you too. If he loves you, then let him live through me.”

And before Selene could protest, Rowena whispered the incantation. Her body dissolved into flame, her spirit pouring into Elias’ broken form.

When the fire died, Elias breathed again. His eyes opened—filled with tears, confusion, and love.

But Selene, holding him, knew the truth: he carried two hearts now. Hers, and the echo of Rowena’s sacrifice.


---

Epilogue

Years later, Elias and Selene lived as husband and wife, raising children with laughter and spells woven into their cradle songs. Yet in quiet moments, when the firelight flickered, Elias would sometimes hear a whisper in his chest—Rowena’s voice, steady as the earth, reminding him of the price of desire.

And somewhere, in the deepest shadows of the forest, Morrigan’s black hair gleamed once more, waiting, watching… and planning her return.


---



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Magick Moments

-
Image
mysticalwiles.blogspot.com --- "The Black Candle" The Black Candle burned low, its flame flickering violet and blue like a bruise on the air. It sat upon a pedestal of bone in the heart of the Hollow Chapel, untouched by time or wind, guarded only by silence and the whispers of the dead. And now, it had chosen her. They found her in the Ashen Wood, barefoot, bloodless, and barely breathing. No name, no past—just eyes the color of smoke and a silence that chilled even the crows. The Sisters of the Hollow took her in, out of duty more than mercy. After all, tradition demanded they care for the one marked by the Candle. She was given the name Elira, though she did not ask for it. The other witches avoided her. Animals stared too long. Shadows bent strangely when she passed. And then came the dreams—fragments of fire, screaming voices, the tearing of wings. In the dream’s center stood the Black Candle, always lit, always watching. One evening, as the moon drowned itse...
Read more

SISTER'S BETRAYAL pt 3

-
Image
--- Sister’s Betrayal – Part 3: Ashes in the Garden By Ernest Leonard Sr. The scent of burning sage hung heavy in the garden, though it did little to cleanse the air of its tension. Cracks splintered the sacred circle, the same one where the sisters once danced barefoot under the moonlight, whispering old chants and secrets. Now, the soil bore the scorch of broken oaths. Liora stood still in the center of the ruin, her hands trembling. Her cloak clung to her, damp with sweat and smoke. The High Priestess stared at her with the cold stillness of judgment, her silver circlet catching the firelight. “I never meant for Elowen to be hurt,” Liora whispered, her voice barely rising above the wind. The Priestess’s face hardened. “You invoked blood magic,” she said, her tone sharp as obsidian. “Jealousy is not an excuse, child. You let it poison the rite. You severed the balance.” Behind them, under the sheltering limbs of the old Rowan tree, Elowen lay still. Her aura, once radiant, was now ba...
Read more

Here’s Part 1 of your three-part novella. I’ll set it up with vivid description, dramatic tension, and sensory details (visual and auditory) to immerse the reader in Ashira’s struggle.---The Crown of ShadowsPart I – The Betrayal of AldorethThe wind howled across the cliffs of Aldoreth, carrying with it the brine of the Hytqus Ocean and the whisper of ancient magic. Beneath the endless sweep of stars, the kingdom’s capital—spires and towers of black stone—rose like the bones of some long-dead giant. Ravens circled in the night sky, their cries sharp and foreboding, as though heralding the storm that had come to claim the throne.Ashira stood upon the precipice, the storm-woven cape at her shoulders billowing like a living thing. Sparks of violet fire licked around her armored frame, the remnants of the spell she had cast to reach the battlefield in time. The weight of her sword, an heirloom of her bloodline, vibrated faintly in her hand as though it, too, thirsted for justice.Somewhere beyond the valley, deep within the walls of Aldoreth’s palace, her half-sister Selene sat upon the throne. In her hands rested the Crown of Dabora—forged in the elder days by sorcerers who communed with gods. The crown was no mere ornament. It pulsed with a power that shifted the will of men, bent armies to kneel, and unraveled the heart’s most sacred oaths.Ashira clenched her jaw at the thought. She could still see his face—Kaelen, her beloved—eyes gone cold, voice turned cruel, as though she were a stranger. Selene’s spell had twisted his love into devotion for her. That betrayal burned hotter than any sword wound.---Scene 1 – The Palace at DuskThe bells of the citadel tolled at dusk, their metallic clang echoing across stone streets. Shadows bled from the corners of the city as Selene ascended the throne room dais, her figure draped in crimson silk. Atop her brow, the Crown of Dabora shimmered with an unnatural brilliance, like firelight trapped in jewels that refused to die.“Let them come,” Selene murmured, her voice resonating like two voices layered as one. The guards—eyes glazed with magical thrall—slammed spear butts upon the marble in unison. The sound reverberated like a heartbeat of war.---Scene 2 – The EncampmentAshira’s loyalists gathered on the mist-slick fields beyond the city walls. Torches sputtered, casting wavering light upon banners marked with the sigil of Aldoreth’s true line—a raven in flight, wings outstretched against a crescent moon. The soldiers’ voices were hushed, their whispers carrying unease.Ashira moved among them, the scrape of her armor and the low hum of her magic leaving trails of sound in the dark. She paused by the fire, her hair catching its orange glow. “Tonight, we take back not only a kingdom,” she said, her voice rising above the wind, “but the souls bound in chains of deceit.”The soldiers responded with the rhythmic clash of steel on shield—clang, clang, clang—a defiant chorus that rolled into the night.---Scene 3 – The DreamSleep eluded Ashira, but when it came, it came heavy. In dream, she stood within the palace throne room—Kaelen before her, his eyes glassy and void. He reached for her, lips parting to whisper her name, only for Selene to step between them.“You cannot break the crown’s will,” Selene hissed, her voice like serpent-song. The sound of it coiled in Ashira’s skull, leaving a bitter echo.Kaelen’s voice followed, broken and hollow: “I do not love you, Ashira. I never did.”She woke with a gasp, sweat cold upon her skin. Her sword at her side glowed faintly, as though it too had dreamed the same nightmare.---Ending of Part 1The night waned into violet dawn. Mist clung to the hills, and the city of Aldoreth loomed before her like a fortress of shadow. Ashira tightened her grip upon her blade. The war for crown, kingdom, and love would begin before the sun reached its height.“Selene,” she whispered to the winds.And the winds whispered back, carrying the sound like a dirge: Selene.The ravens screamed overhead, wings black against the newborn light.---👉 Would you like me to keep Part 2 focused on Ashira’s battle to breach the city and confront Selene, or shift into Kaelen’s perspective under Selene’s enchantment, showing the spell’s effects from within?

-
Image
Here’s Part 1 ; ALDORETH UNBOUND  --- The Crown of Shadows Part I – The Betrayal of Aldoreth The wind howled across the cliffs of Aldoreth, carrying with it the brine of the Hytqus Ocean and the whisper of ancient magic. Beneath the endless sweep of stars, the kingdom’s capital—spires and towers of black stone—rose like the bones of some long-dead giant. Ravens circled in the night sky, their cries sharp and foreboding, as though heralding the storm that had come to claim the throne. Ashira stood upon the precipice, the storm-woven cape at her shoulders billowing like a living thing. Sparks of violet fire licked around her armored frame, the remnants of the spell she had cast to reach the battlefield in time. The weight of her sword, an heirloom of her bloodline, vibrated faintly in her hand as though it, too, thirsted for justice. Somewhere beyond the valley, deep within the walls of Aldoreth’s palace, her half-sister Sel...
Read more