Her Dark Soul

From the beginning, there has always been magic. It can destroy us, but it can also be the best thing for us.

Things are not always black and white; witches are not always bad, but they are not always good, either.

Back to a time not so long ago, there was a witch named Lady Isra, and she was incredibly powerful. She possessed a great many abilities and qualities: power, control, authority, and beauty. But yet she had no heart, and a witch without a heart is a wicked witch indeed because as this story tells, she became darker as time went on.

We began in autumn when the leaves were tumbling down from the trees in bold shades of cherry, flamed orange, and burnt copper. The land was changing; the season of summer was escaping. Many men and women cared not to dwell here.

Amidst the beauty of the land, a majestic shining tower stood on a hilltop and was the center of it all, showcasing the land's most ferocious villain. She was not at all kind, graceful, or loving. She had lost a love many years ago, and now only bitter tears flowed. Tears of what she had lost, tears of what she'd once had. Tears of fear, regret, and pain.

Life for this witch was never quite the same as it once was. She kept to herself and spoke with only the animals, having a strong connection with them. She admired their beauty and power. She knew many of the beings by name, and some were even guides and messengers who helped her from time to time. They were not afraid of her despite the consuming darkness inside her soul. They saw good in all beings, a trait not very well known.

In this land, the witch was highly respected but also feared. It was said in many villages, "Do not cross the witch! She is very wicked and doesn't take kindly to being crossed." The best advice the townspeople could give was, "Stay away from her."

The witch did not care for them or their words; she lived in seclusion and had done so for most of her life and was comfortable with it. She spent most of her time studying her craft and learning more about the world she lived in, reading up on all the secret and not so secret knowledge of the magical world that not many knew of or even cared about.

Sometimes people would come to the witch because they'd heard of the things she could do. She could banish, but she could bind and return selfish and negative behaviors back to those who had originally cast them out, as well. She knew every curse and all the hexes. If someone had a problem and wasn't afraid of her, she was the one they could go to for help.

A young lady had come to the witch and asked for her assistance, for another woman was attempting to take her husband. The witch prepared a spell, and after doing everything that needed to be done, she sat the young woman down and told her what to do. When they were done, she thought it was the last she would hear from her.

A week later on a dark, full moon, the young woman contacted the witch again. She had been sitting at her table sorting herbs and putting them into their correctly labeled jars when a loud knock on the old, stiff oak door startled her. She saw it was the young woman, invited her in and made some tea.

"He's going to leave me for her!" the young woman cried.

The witch, having heard this story much too often, told the young woman to calm down. She grabbed a dagger and asked the young woman to hold out her hand. She did as the witch requested. The witch carefully slashed the dagger across the young woman's hand, making an incision just below the young woman's marriage finger. She let the thick, red blood drip onto a piece of parchment and then into a cup of water.

"Write his name on the parchment. And drink the water. This will bind him to you and only you. It has never failed me," said the witch with a soft tone.

The young woman wrote her husband's name on the parchment and gave it back to the witch, who folded it in halves a few times, then wrapped string tightly around the parcel. She handed it to the young woman.

"Now place this somewhere hidden, close to where he sleeps. Go, you must do this immediately!"

And with that, the witch never heard from the young woman again.

It was situations like these the witch was best at solving; a little magic went a long way if a person knew how to use it. Magic is not something to be misused, although as time went by, it did get misused but the witch was okay with that. She liked being powerful, dark and hidden. She liked coming out of her fortress, only at night, rejoicing her hatred through the dark misty skies.

She loved opening and closing mystical doors, as well as removing things that were no longer useful. This was the life she led and her heart no longer bled, for it had been blackened years previously by another's inner needs but there will be more on that later. Nevertheless, she was seen as somewhat of a dark savior.

Autumn came and went, and the snow of winter fell.

It was time for another very dark spell.

It was a crisp moonlit night and snow blanketed the ground. Darkness covered the land, surrounding the witch's home and as it did, the witch grew in power. She never left her dwelling except to get supplies, and almost always went out in disguise.

You see, she wasn't ugly; she wasn't at all what you'd think most witches would look like. She was slim and tall, and had a beautiful bosom that was enhanced by her tight black corset, amplifying the curves of her already tiny waist. Her clear, green emerald eyes told stories, and none of them were lies. Her hair was long; it traveled down her back in ringlets of golden white curls and all around her small frame.

Of course, people wouldn't think she was a witch by the look of her, but then many people who laid eyes on her knew straightaway: "Don't mess with her. Don't get on her bad side; she is strong, evil, and powerful." No man or animal had ever spoken or thought truer words; she was, indeed, a force to be reckoned with.

One cold winter's day, she ventured out in her disguise; a long, black cloak and dark glasses that shielded her piercing green eyes. She was wandering around inside a herb shop in a village not far from her dwelling when a being with magnificent golden wings appeared to her.

She thought it was an angel. She'd believed in them once, although now she had no time or care for them. The witch looked closer at the being; it was an angel indeed. The angel approached the witch and spoke.

"I did not ask to be given this job, as I do not want any part in what you do. However, I have been asked to give you a message about your calling. I am told there are a great many ways you can stop this destruction and dark power, but I have also been told you won't."

The witch looked up at the angel and laughed wickedly. "Well, there was a time not so long ago where I had asked you for help, and did you give it? No, you failed me, like the rest."

Enraged, she continued. "No, I will not stop. I will not give my magic up. I will not surrender any power, no matter what! But on a more humorous note, I am much better than what I used to be. I have control; I can do what I want. Like you said, you never asked for this job, so go back to your army of golden messengers and leave me be."

The angel appeared shocked; the witch's response was cool and calm, but yet also cold and calculated. "Very well. I will have to give the other the bad news, that this is your chosen path and you want nothing else. If you change your mind and want to be used for goodness, just call."

The witch scoffed and sneered. "I need you and goodness like I need a hole in my head! Now go, and take your infernal light with you, it's blinding my eyes!"

The angel fluttered away, still shocked, but realized there was nothing that could be done to change the witch's mind. There was a time when the witch believed in angels, just like the one who appeared before her, and believed in all spiritual things and all things good and light. But alas, that time had passed.

Now it was all darkness, blood, and more darkness. The witch had no complaint over this. She liked things the way they were. She loved the bloodlust and torture, the darkness; she liked it, and that was just the way it was. Nobody was going to change that.

She returned back to her dwelling after picking up some herbs and spices from the shop and set them about on her altar, organizing them in a triangular shape, a powerful symbol with three points. This ancient symbol represented protection.

No, she was not doing good magic, far from it, but she knew to protect herself while performing powerful, dark spells. Some energies used in spells and rituals can come back to bite you, so she was using her insurance.

During her lifetime, she had cast many spells she knew to be sure to do the right things and incorporate the correct elements to avoid having problems. She was casting a spell to hide herself, to not be known, for no one to know of her existence; a powerful spell, you might say, but she had done it before and knew what to do.

The herbs in the triangle were blessed, and then a tall, black candle was positioned in the middle. She muttered the words to the spell under her breath and watched the candle flame as it changed from a small orange yellow flame into a huge, rising black flame.

This was her sign; it was working! She had done her bit; all would be well, and she would be hidden, with only the animals noticing her.

She had always liked the idea of being invisible, and now she could be that very thing. She had often dreamed of walking the cold stone roads without anyone noticing her presence. And now she could. She strolled along the forest, noticing all the glimmering dew drops in the heads of blossoming, beautiful, and mysterious flowers.

As she walked, a leaf fell upon her head, then fluttered to rest on the forest floor. She bent and picked it up. It was an orange and brown leaf with a golden edging.

She thought it was a rather special leaf as she had never seen one like it before, and felt it would go nicely on her altar. She stared at the leaf and felt it was a magical doorway just waiting to be opened.

Fairies. She had always believed in them. Very powerful and mysterious beings who sometimes lived mainly in nature and normally out of sight anywhere humans were present. Isra had always wanted to meet a fairy. She once thought she had caught a glimpse of one once but wasn't sure.

It had been a beautiful evening, and the sky was clear and the air crisp. The witch was about ten years old, and she had been playing with a childhood friend when suddenly they both saw pink lights flutter around them, dancing wildly in overblown joy to be around such playful and innocent children. They sparkled around the children with delight, and the witch always remembered how brightly colored the sparks had been, and how beautiful it was to see such a thing.

But now she was older, and that childlike innocence had vanished a long time ago. She was older than her years. While in her youth she'd captivated the mind and heart of a child, she now thought and acted much like an old crone, even though she wasn't very old. Barely thirty if she cared enough to count her exact age. But still, even now, she longed to see a glimpse of that beautiful sight again.

Fairies were attracted to all sorts of magic whether dark, light, from blood, or from the soul. They were drawn to it like love draws souls to one to another. Compelling magnetism. Even with all her bloodlust, rage, and power, she had a chance at being in the world and seeing things that no normal human being could ever see.

Humans get to see the magic side of life, as well, but they have to be attuned to it; they have to be in focus and remain open to that which governs the spirit and the soul. Then, and only then, can they be allowed to envelop themselves in all the magic and mystery the occult world has to offer.

Yes, she was a very dark soul, but of course, you know light cannot exist without dark. She did use her darkness to help people, like the young woman whose husband was going to leave. It was with a blood sacrifice she'd managed to save her marriage. She always knew when the spells worked because she would never hear from the people again.

It was good that in all her darkness, she could still help others. It gave her a sense of purpose. It was comforting at times for her soul. But that was the past, and now it was much different. Still, she longed to see these winged beings, and it would be nice, she thought, to strike up a rapport, a relationship with them.

She thought now would be a good time to reflect and sit back and review things, to admire her dark surroundings and allow whatever impressions came to her to be received. Quiet time and solitude.

A wonderful thing about being alone is not being bothered by anyone, and being able to receive magical messages with no disturbance. It was great to walk alone in the moon‐ light and be surrounded by her own magical serenity; it was a time to be powerful.

Another dark spell was brewing. And this time the witch was going to get very serious. Times were changing.