My initiation and return had come after a bad car accident and loss of memory. But things were coming back to me now. I realize it was fate that brought me back to the coven. It was no accident. And soon my skills would be needed. Little by little, faded memories started to flow in. It would be a process. But the scent of the soft, white-armed witches would bring me back. And back to the fray I would go. To fight.
But before we explore the future of the witches, the covens, and the coming war let us go back in time to the beginning. Before the witch burnings and before people no longer believed in the value of magic and astrology. I will tell you that witches are some of the most powerful groups on earth. They fought hard. The trials changed everything. Secrecy they valued over everything else. To rule behind the throne. But many learned not only the Weirding Way but how to physically defend themselves. With firearm, with hand, with dagger, or with a spell.
Secrecy. But you have never heard of any of them and that is it how it is, how it was, and perhaps how it shall always be. They danced with the devil. And like the devil one of the greatest things they did was convince the world that witches and witchcraft doesn't really exist and doesn't work.
There are secrets—both dark and delicious—of witchcraft and all the myths and superstitions have some truth to them. It goes so much deeper than that though and many will not want to hear the truth. Many can't handle the truth. But the truth can set you free.
My birth starts sometime before the trials of the witches. Mother never took a husband. She was considered a witch by birth but she kept out of harm's way lest she be marked. At least until the stranger came. He was my father. He was not human. And mother never speaks of him. But he took a human form when he came upon her in the forest. Like Merlin I am of both human and demon. But some have another name for that. Nephilim. The fallen angels.
"The Nephilim walked upon the earth in those days, and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bore children to them; the same were the mighty men that were of old, the men of renown."
Mother had found a small parcel of land a half a day's ride on horseback from the nearest town. There she built a small cottage of wood, brick and thatch. She started to grow herbs and was quite successful. She was alone and though she was lonely she sought no company and no man.
He came then. A black rider on a back horse. She said only that I have his blue eyes. She was churning butter. Her red locks were sweaty. Her large breasts heaved, as if trying to burst from the tight, low-cut shirt that revealed them. With her large, pink nipples just below the hem of the fabric and ready to slip out. The freckles on her breast only added to the appeal. Mother was younger then, but still nubile and full. Her waist has always been relatively small and her hips large with long, strong legs. Taller than most men. He took a fancy to her then. As even with the thick layers of clothing a man can tell the contours and curves of a well-hipped, well-shaped woman. She had bent over to adjust something there outside the cottage on that fall day. She asked him if he came for the herbs and medicine and he smiled.
The sun was setting on the pumpkins in the patch nearby. And a coolness came. She took a liking to him. There were little words spoken and mother said there has been no man and no experience like that since.
She admitted that she took a fancy to him rather quickly for she had known no man and only taken the end of a broomstick for pleasure. She knew it was a sad substitute but it was how things had to be. Until him. He said that she should finish churning the butter. He unmounted and came behind her and grabbed the long handle of the butter churner from behind her. She smiled. She felt no ill ease with this tall, handsome stranger. And they continued together. It started slow. His hands were large and strong. Powerful. She pumped the handle and he felt her breasts. Just a touch at first. Then a firm grab. Then he cupped both of them together and removed the pink nipples from the blouse. He twisted the nipples and they quickly became hard. Mother moaned and fell back into him. He nuzzled her cheek and chin. She felt as if under some strange spell. He could have done anything and she would have complied giving herself fully to him.
