The Witch Luna

Most fairy tales known to man feature witches.

They always paint my kind in a darker shade, the villain of the story, the root of all misfortunes, the cause of earth's damnation.

They forgot one thing: black is not the only color in existence.

There's good and bad in every species. It's what keeps the wheel of life hanging in the balance.

My tale started when I came of age.

Like typical fairy tale stories, when the heroines came of age, I was supposed to use my feminine charm to seduce strong men to earn their protection so that I could live happily ever after. Except that my life is anything but a fairy tale. If there's any consolation, at least I'm the hero in my story and not the evil witch depicted in most books.

*****

My full power was unlocked on my sixteenth birthday, or so I was told.

Mom took me to the makeshift library in the coven, where she spent her nights when she was not traveling. She guided me to one of the single-seater couches and sat on the opposite side facing me. In her hand was a thick brown book with a laminated cover. The front cover was adorned by a few sprigs of lavender stuck on what looked like a miniature version of a tropical fruit covered by rough, leathery peel and sharp leaves. A crisscrossed purple ribbon bound it together.

She looked at me affectionately and said, "This is my birthday present for you, my princess. It's a grimoire, your grimoire," emphasizing the word "your." She handed me the book, and I removed the ribbon to see what it looked like inside. It was empty, and the pages were made of thick, handcrafted materials.

I thanked her, and I could see the pride and something else in her eyes, like fear or worry. I shook my head to get rid of the thoughts; I must have been overthinking.

"From today, you can cast your own spells, create potions, or recreate older ones, only stronger. You can perform rituals, and document everything magical. Use this grimoire, your very own," Mom said lovingly, just like a prayer. "Promise me you will be careful, Agatha. You can use my grimoire too," she waved her hand, and a thick, faded, and slightly tattered book with a few scratches and yellowish pages appeared, suspended in the air. She took it and handed it to me.

"No, mom. I can't take it. You need them more than I do." I tried to push her grimoire back to her, but she refused. I don't like the idea of her handing me her valuable possessions. It's like.....

"Listen to me, Agatha." She suddenly became serious, breaking my train of thought. "You have to take this grimoire, but you must keep it hidden. Protect it with your life. Do you understand?" she instructed me in a voice slightly above a whisper. Her hands trembled as she placed them on top of mine. She looked tense and rushed. Something was not right.

"Read it in secret and master all the spells for your protection," she said. "Witches and warlocks will hunt you from today. Your age is ripe." Her eyes were full of unshed tears as she muttered those words I didn't even understand. She caressed my cheek and kissed my forehead; her warm lips stayed there for a few seconds.

Before I could ask about my age being ripe, she continued.

"You are a white witch, Agatha. The most powerful one there is. You are the descendant of the most powerful she-demon ever lived. Many supernatural creatures will try to harvest your power or force you to produce an heir for them."

I was dumbfounded. All these years, Mom has been talking about the prophecy, how the white witch will unite all the supernatural species, and how an eight-hundred-year-old warlock who locked himself with a seer inside a pentagram pendant only to awaken when the white witch came of age... It's all about me. She has been preparing me all along.

"You are my princess, Agatha, If I ...."

The loud wailing and crackling sounds from behind closed doors stopped her from finishing her stories. She closed her eyes for two seconds before releasing a deep, labored breath. When she opened them, she waved her hand, and the grimoire vanished instantly. "Be careful, my love, don't trust easily," she added before waving her hand one more time. I felt like the world around me just tilted and found myself hugging the two grimoires as I floated in the air. I seemed to be inside the bubble.

SLAM!

The door banged open, and a tall, middle-aged man appeared in the doorway. He had deep, dangerous-looking black orbs, a pointed nose, and thick-colored lips. He looked grim... and .... ancient. He was wearing all-black clothes from head to toe, from shirt and coat to trousers, with old-fashioned black leather shoes. He was playfully holding a sharp-looking dagger on his left hand and a pentagram pendant on his right. A black hooded cloak with an ash-gray inner lining covered his body. He lifted the dagger, pressed its tip to the edge of his hood, and slid it backward, exposing his long, frizzy black hair and mildly luminous face with a few wrinkly lines on the forehead.

He scanned the room with wary eyes, looking displeased. He tossed the pentagram into the air and opened the inner pocket of his cloak to catch it. His eyes found their way back to my mother.

I could see the terror in my mom's face when her gaze met the strange man.

The man stepped inside the room and waved his index finger in the air. One of the elders of Mystic Sisters Coven was thrown on the floor, and Mom immediately got up from the couch to put a protective embrace around her. The elder has patches of purpled bruises on her arms, and her face has two slanting wounds, cutting from the left forehead to the right chin. Fresh blood is still oozing from it. Her nose was disfigured, and the cut just missed the left eye by a few millimeters. She looks as equally terrified as my mom. Three more coven witches stepped inside the room quietly, their eyes trained on the floor.

"Where is she, witch?" the man asked no one in particular, but the gazes of the three other coven witches fell on my mom.

I now understand what my mom did. She hid me in this bubble. The stranger must be one of the supernatural creatures she was talking about a few minutes ago. The one who wants to extract my power.

"I will not ask again, witch. WHERE. IS. SHE?" his voice was like thunder, roaring inside a nearly empty room.

All the rooms in the coven are furnished with a bed, a side table, and a small wardrobe. They don't even have curtains, only the bare essentials. Although this room holds important books, ancient literature, gems, and artifacts, they are hidden from the naked eye and protected by strong magic.

"S... She's gone." Mom stuttered. The man stares at her listlessly before he releases a deep, frustrated breath. He turned around to the coven witches behind him, squinting, questioning...

Georgina, the redhead witch with hazel eyes, stepped forward and bowed her head, "My Lord, I promise I saw them enter this room five minutes ago," she declared.

"Hmm, what a waste!" The man waved his hand, and Georgina fell to the ground with a loud thud, lifeless. The remaining two witches trembled in fear, their eyes reddened from unshed tears. His gaze slowly traveled back to my mom. She and the other elder were slumped on the floor, looking at each other. Their eyes showed a silent understanding and mutual consent for whatever would come. I wished I knew what was going on, but that was just wishful thinking.

"I suspect you will not tell me where your daughter is, won't you, witch?" Mom raised her head. Surprisingly, she was more composed than a minute ago. She squared her shoulders and looked straight into the man's eyes with aversion.

"Baltazar, You. Will. NEVER. Find. My. Daughter. She will master every ounce of power and magic she inherited from Lilith and use it for the greater good of all supernatural species. You. Will. Not. Succeed." I don't know if Mom was talking to me or to this man named Baltazar, but it made him furious. Very, very furious.

Baltazar's eyes turned red. I swear I saw fire in it for a split second. He waved his hand, and my mom and the other coven elder turned to dust instantly. I was shocked! My heart tells me to bawl in agony and fight back, but my logic says it will put my mom's sacrifice in vain. I covered my mouth to muffle the sobs I was holding. My tears fell like a dam. I was a weeping mess.

I will never forget this day. My mom was murdered in front of me on my sixteenth birthday.

And all I could do was watch and cry.

Three years later.

"So, Nico, what would you do if your Moon Goddess screwed up your mate pairing?" I asked.

"Language, Agatha!"

Nico lifted his gaze from the book he was reading, looking petulant. "Is this conversation taking us anywhere worth discussing? If not, just drop it."

I brought the teacup to my lips for a sip, took a deep breath, and looked him straight in the eye, pouting. Most days pass like this: I ask a question, and this grumpy ex-commander answers impatiently. I don't even understand why he needs to read that same book over and over again. If it were me, I would have memorized it by now and just played it in my head like a broken record. He talks more like a college professor than an ex-commander, if you ask me. Not that I'm complaining; he's a badass, and he protects me like a big brother would.

"I had a vision last night!" I lazily whispered, fidgeting with my fingers.

He gently closed the book in his hand, dropped it on his lap, and squared his shoulder. Then, he relaxed his back on the wooden chair he had been lounging in for the past two hours. After crossing his legs, he gave me his full attention. "I am listening!" he responded.

"You heard it?"

"I am a werewolf, Agatha! I may not have the same ability to read minds as you do, but I have an enhanced sense of hearing," he retorted lazily. "You forgot?"

"Al....right." I said mockingly.

"So?"

"What?" I asked

"About the vision. Tell me," he demanded.

"It's weird and sometimes when the vision changes and all, you know, vision is subjective. Some events can alter the outcome, I... uhm....." I stammered.

"Did it ever happen to you before?"

I did not answer for a while.

"Did any of your visions change in the past?" he clarified, his tone stiffening a bit. I'm not sure if he was getting impatient or just worried about my vision.

"Uhm, No. But this might, who knows?" I shrugged.

"O...KAY..?" raising his eyebrows while waving his hands, encouraging me to continue. "Stop stalling, Agatha," he growls. "Are we going to keep the guessing game or you will tell me about the vision now? You never hesitated to tell me anything before, why make a fuss now?" He sounds so irritated, geez.

"Uhm. I...I think I am mated to two Alphas," I stated, just slightly above a whisper, while tattering the hem of my skirt.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Nico nearly jumped from his chair. His wolf almost took over as his eyes turned midnight black.

In a few seconds, his claws elongated, and an inch of fur surfaced from his arms and face. He closed his eyes to relax his nerves and took a few deep breaths. He opened his eyes after five long seconds and threw his arms in the air with a look of desperation. He took two long strides toward me with a darkened expression.

"YOU THINK? Explain!" he shouted, but not unkindly.

I cannot form a coherent answer. Am I intimidated? Absolutely! Scared? Hell, No! He wouldn't hurt me. We have already talked about this subject more times than I can remember. Mates equal risks. For them and me.

I am a witch rogue if that even amounts to anything... and I don't do mates. At least, that's what I thought.

I met Nico a few months after my sixteenth birthday. He was with five of his elite warriors from their previous pack. It wasn't clear why they left the pack, though. We have this 'don't ask, don't tell' arrangement. They only tell me what's necessary for our safety and survival, nothing personal. They are cheating in a way. They can mind link! They talk dirty, curse, and joke in their heads. How mean?

But I'm different. I talk like a bipolar parrot. I share more than I should. To my benefit, they let all my shenanigans slide since I am the youngest and the only female member of the group. I am their spoiled princess, whether they like it or not. But when our lives are on the line, I don't quip.

[Flashback]

I just had my full powers at the time. After I witnessed Baltazar turn my Mom into ashes, I focused on my energy. I visualized a safe place, but not specific, where I could practice my magic as mom instructed me. I gathered all the books, herbs, and crystals I needed for my magic before I watched Baltazar burn down the coven into nothingness. He searched for me on every corner of the coven like a madman. I can't blame him; he was stuck in the pendant for eight hundred years, and losing me in an instant can be maddening.

I closed my eyes and chanted a few lines of incantations. When I opened my eyes, I was in a dark and dreary place. I can hear a faint sound of water dripping not so far from where I sat. I struggle to breathe in the beginning. The humidity in the air was so thick, and I suddenly felt claustrophobic. I don't have an idea where I exactly landed, but if my magic is to be trusted, then I should be in a safe and secluded place. Hopefully, no other witch can find me soon.

I looked around and explored the place. I realized I was inside a cave. I could see intriguing rock formations on the walls. Some icicle-shaped crystals and rocks fill the ceiling of the cave, and water occasionally drips from them. I imagined that if I could create a small source of light, the whole cave would be illuminated. The light rays may bounce on the icicles and shine brightly like a chandelier.

About a hundred feet away, a water stream passed beneath the cave floor. The water was as clear as a crystal, and I could see the bottom of the waterbed. However, with limestones surrounding the surface, I'm not sure if the water is safe for drinking.

The cave walls sparkle from the crystals and other stones buried underneath the surface. This cave holds a massive wealth that could turn friends and families against each other.

With this much treasure still intact? I can only assume that no one discovered this place yet.

"I'm safe," I mustered.

The cave reeked of a peculiar smell-a damp stench, a suffocating sulfuric emission, an ammonia-ish odor, and something rotten-enough to make me nauseated. Rats and bats are most likely the culprits, to some extent, and the rest comes from the chemical reactions from mineral deposits.

I decided to search for a dryer land with better natural light. I walked for what seemed like hours, climbing, crawling, tiptoeing, and sliding into different sections of the cave. Exhaustion started to kick in when I found an opening. I walked a little further and found a plantation of aconite plants at the end of the cave, Wolfsbane.

The area of the aconite plantation is like a sandwiched shelter between rock formations with merely a six-foot gap. A pile of teak trees barricaded one side. The tree line resembles a fence aimed to conceal the cave opening. With the overgrown bushes and vines, the cave's mouth is completely hidden. If you cross the teak trees, it will lead you to the deep forest, while the other side of the plantation is a dangerously high cliff with few trees hanging horizontally on the side. I decided to settle there. Although werewolves were not my enemies, one less danger wouldn't hurt, I thought. With these wolfsbane plants, werewolves wouldn't dare come near me.

I spent most of the nights near the aconite plants, but I practiced my magic inside the deep cave, where the surge of magical power was confined to its walls. I searched for food in the forest, mostly fruits, and planted some herbs and vegetables near the aconite. I guess this is what they mean by 'those who survive are the ones who most accurately perceive their environment and successfully adapt to it.' "Whoever said that quote was a genius because, at the end of it, we ought to do what we must to survive.

Months passed the same way. I mastered some of the spells in my mom's grimoire and created some of my own. I created potions and poisons. I harvested some wolfsbane and mixed them with other herbs to repel wolves and other magical beings, but mostly wolves. I focused more on mastering magic to protect myself and prepare for a fight.

"It's boring to be alone for long," I groaned.

One day, I was out in the woods to search for some plants and herbs for my potion. I heard a group of men talking under a tree. I hid myself using a simple concealment charm and stalked them. They're werewolves.

"Nico, how long will we roam around the forest? We have to find a place to stay," one of the men asked. I didn't know who Nico was, so I kept listening. I trailed them for days.

I cast a protective spell and created an illusion, obliging them to return to that place at the same time every day. Perhaps boredom made me a gossiping witch, or perhaps I just decided I wanted to keep them as my friends from day one.

On the fifth day, I revealed myself. They were taken aback to see me after I had lifted the concealment spell. With some electricity still surging through my fingers and my eyes white as snow, those six men shifted into their wolf forms. Their fangs were out and ready to attack.

"Hey!" I panicked.

Instinctively, with one swift move, I raised my hand in the air, lifting the wolves from the ground and allowing the vortex to swallow them. Loud growls reverberated through the trees, breaking the silence in the forest as the vortex moved in a circular motion.

I didn't budge. Instead, I spoke with a touch of authority and dread to capture their attention.

"I will let you go, but make no mistakes. I am not your enemy. One wrong move, and you will all turn to ashes."

Slowly, I heard growls turned into whimpers. When they quieted, I released my hold and dropped them on the ground with a thud. They hit the ground and tried to attack yet again.

I repeated the process until they were limp and couldn't stand anymore. That's how I captured their attention: my abilities and ruthlessness.

We walked for two days from the cave to find a place to stay. With the help of a little magic and Nico's familiarity with territorial lines, we found an unclaimed territory. It was surrounded by six packs with different sizes and levels of influence in the werewolf community. We claimed the land, not officially, but a temporary shelter where we could camp. A haven.

We built a two-bedroom cottage in the middle, with a small kitchen and living room, surrounded by six smaller huts. Since I am the youngest and only female member of the group, I got the cottage, and Nico stayed with me in the next room. They treated me well, like the witch princess that I am. Being rogues, we lacked resources and could only use the woods we found in the forest to build a cottage and huts.

I cast a protective spell on the territory, like an umbrella, masking their wolf scent, and hid the surge of my power when I practiced magic. The spell worked in two ways: It also protected us from outsiders' enchantments. As long as we stayed inside the protective dome, we were safe.

[End of Flashback]

We've got nothing to lose. No expectations, no pretenses, no biases. With the fifteen new rogues who joined us, we could already form a small pack, but we chose to be a simple rogue family instead.

Now, they are clutched in for my suicide mission.

My rogues vowed not to search for their mates, but if they meet someone they fell for and decide for a chosen mate....... Maybe we can compromise. Maybe. After all, like other species, they might want to have an heir someday.

Mates don't apply to witches like werewolves do. Most witches enter mutually beneficial bonds. I never thought about being mated to a werewolf. Many witches stay single for the rest of their lives, but not without children.

Legend has it that the first girl child of a witch harnesses the strongest power in her family, so most witches wanted to give birth to a daughter. My mother told me I was a descendant of Lilith. Apparently, it was prophesied that the most powerful witch would come from Lilith's bloodline. Yup, that's me.

Damn, prophesy! It placed my head on the blacklist of the Phoenicia Covenant. Now I'm hiding like a fugitive. They didn't even give me time to mourn for my mom's death. Those bitchy witches will pay a heavy price for their treachery if they are not dead yet. I'll make sure they suffer an agonizing end.

I was still scanning the hem of my dress, trying to find how to elaborate my vision. Nico can be scary sometimes. He was an ex-commander of an elite squad. Everybody knew him as 'the executioner.' Though he never tried to hurt me, he can still be scary.

"Explain!"

His demand for an explanation brings me out of my reverie.

I released a breath I never knew I was holding, "They are two alphas from different packs. I have seen their faces, but I don't know anything else. I don't recognize them," I explained. Not that I know any alpha, but the vision was vague in itself.

"So there will be two packs behind our tails now, Great!" he remarked sarcastically.

Silence followed as Nico paced in our small living room. Only his footsteps and heavy breathing can be heard.

He stopped moving for a while, glancing at me, worried, "So... are you? Wh... what are your plans?" he stammered.

"I don't know! They are not supposed to find us; we are off the radar, remember?" I rolled my eyes.

"Well, that's comforting!" as he folded his arms across his chest

"Seriously Nico, I don't know what to do. I think they don't know either!"

"What do you mean?"

"They already found each other," I blurted. I think they don't know that there's me." I pointed at myself and added, "To complete the tri-bond. "

"You mean they felt the mate bond without you in it? The two alphas?" he scrunched his forehead as if repulsed by the idea.

"Yes." I simply say.

He laughed darkly. "Don't worry, they could be both dead before they even have a chance to meet you."

"Wait, what?"