Witches, though born from the evolution and awakening of human females, live by a code and philosophy far removed from human values. Their very essence seems to have transcended the societal expectations of humans, embracing a path of individuality and freedom that shapes their world.
While human society often places great emphasis on virtues like sacrifice, dedication, and service to others, these concepts are virtually foreign to witches. For witches, the highest ideal is independence, each witch's personal desires are paramount, as long as they do not interfere with the freedom of others in their community. Their respect for individual autonomy is central to their beliefs.
One of the most striking differences between humans and witches lies in their approach to reproduction. Every witch, regardless of the race of her child's father, gives birth to a witch. However, the process of having children is not driven by a societal obligation. In fact, witches often have only one child in their entire lifetime, and many may never have children at all. This has kept their population relatively small, preventing the kind of explosive growth humans experience.
Without the awakening of human women in moments of great adversity, transforming into witches, the population of witches would have dwindled to extinction. To combat this slow growth, the Witch Clan offers a range of benefits to encourage and support the few young witches born each generation. Yet, despite the incentives, no witch is ever forced to become a mother simply to address population concerns.
When witches bear children, many choose to return to the wilderness, a sacred territory marked out as their homeland, where strict rules protect the sanctity of the witch way of life. Only beings who have signed the Wilderness Contract, pledging eternal loyalty to the witches and the land, may enter. Those who violate the contract pay with their lives, a risk that keeps most outsiders far away.
As a result, most witches raise their children in the wilderness, often as single parents. It's not unusual for a young witch to grow up without a father, like Lyra, who is one of many in a similar situation. Fathers are rarely involved in raising their offspring, and witches place little emphasis on traditional family structures. However, thanks to the care and financial support provided by the Witch Clan, few young witches die young, and single-parent households are the norm. Despite this, the population remains stable at around 30,000 witches.
Though witches cherish their daughters, the responsibility of raising a child doesn't extend far beyond their early years. A witch, true to her beliefs, is ultimately responsible only for herself. Until the age of thirteen, a young witch may live under her mother's care, with the Witch Clan providing additional childcare support and subsidies. For example, items such as the "Young Witch Series" in Lyra's home are gifts from the tribe to assist in the upbringing of young witches.
At the age of thirteen, a young witch's journey toward independence begins when she enters the Witch Academy. This marks the end of her mother's guardianship and the start of a five-year period where she learns the skills necessary to survive: magic, knowledge, and the ways of the witch world. During this time, the Witch Clan covers all expenses, ensuring that each young witch can focus on her education.
Once she graduates at eighteen, she is considered an adult witch. The ties to her upbringing loosen entirely, and she is expected to fend for herself. The Witch Clan rewards the mother for raising her daughter to adulthood, and the mother is then free to continue her life unburdened, perhaps even considering a new chapter of her own. The young witch, in turn, sets out into the world, relying on the independence and strength she has cultivated throughout her upbringing.
"You need to find a way to survive on your own," Lyra reminded herself as she stood at the edge of the familiar forest, the canopy above whispering secrets of independence and destiny.
In the world of witches, whether or not a young witch had a biological father willing to sign the Wilderness Contract, they all shared a common guardian, the Family Council. Acting as a paternal figure, the council undertook all the expenses for a young witch's growth and education from birth until the age of eighteen.
In the world of witches, a child might be born to a mother and possibly a foreign father who is willing to sign the Wilderness Contract, but in truth, all young witches share a universal "father" the Family Council. It is this governing body that takes full responsibility for the care, education, and upbringing of a young witch from birth until she turns eighteen. It covers every expense, ensuring that each little witch has the foundation needed to stand on her own two feet.
By the time a witch graduates from the academy, she is free from any obligation, she owes nothing to her witch mother, has no debt to repay to the Family Council, and carries no expectation to raise a daughter of her own in the future. Witches are raised to cherish their freedom and independence above all else, unburdened by societal or familial expectations. Even if the Witch Clan itself were to crumble, a witch would never surrender her personal will or autonomy. This sense of absolute freedom is central to their identity and is something they fiercely protect, having been born from generations of struggle and adversity.
The first chapter of the "Young Witch Series" explains all of this in detail, and it's something Lyra deeply understood. She knew in her heart that Her mother Elara would not wait for her forever in their humble cabin in Valen. Her mother Elara was not just a mother; she was her own person with her own path to follow.
The cabin itself had never been a true home. It was simply a temporary shelter, hastily put together when Her mother Elara became pregnant. Originally, it was a worn-down, abandoned house, repaired just enough by magic to be livable. Each year, the witches used spells to reinforce it, preventing it from collapsing, and the funds for these reinforcements came from the Witch Clan's "young witch raising allowance." Now, with Elara approaching school age, the subsidy had stopped, and since Her mother Elara didn't know the construction magic necessary to maintain the house, its days were numbered.
Her mother Elara, still young by witch standards, who often live more than 500 years, viewed these thirteen years of motherhood as merely a brief chapter in her long life. She had her entire future ahead of her. Once Elara left for the Witch Academy, she would return to her old life, continuing the adventures she once enjoyed before becoming a mother. This cabin, with its old wooden walls and magical reinforcements, was just a temporary stop along her journey. Even though it was now showing signs of wear, much of the furniture inside had been collected by Her mother Elara over her years of travel, purchased piece by piece as she envisioned a future witch's home. Those items were well-maintained, and she planned to take them with her when she moved on.
As for the rest of the house? Her mother Elara had no deep attachment to it. If it still held value, perhaps Elara could sell it for some gold coins, or if she liked it, she could use it as her own. But if not, the cabin would once again fall into disrepair, left to crumble as it had before.
As the days passed, the home became emptier. Belongings were packed away, and with each missing item, the cabin felt less like a home and more like a shell of what it once was. The sense of impending departure grew stronger, and even though Lyra understood that Her mother Elara had her own life to live, a sadness settled over her. This had been the only home Lyra had ever known, not just in this life, but in her previous one as well. It was the first time she had experienced a mother's care, the warmth of belonging, and the comfort of a home.
Yet, she knew her feelings were a relic of her human past. Her heart still clung to human notions of family, responsibility, and permanence, something that a witch like Her mother Elara would never be bound by. Witches were free spirits, unattached and unburdened, while Lyra, with her memories of a past life, struggled to let go.
Not wanting to show her sadness, Lyra slipped outside, away from the packing and the growing emptiness inside the cabin. She lay on the grass under a large, shady tree and closed her eyes, hoping the fresh air would soothe her troubled heart.
Inside, Elara noticed. With a gentle tap of her wand, she cast a spell over Lyra, ensuring her breathing grew deep and even, as sleep came to her aid.
---
"Little Lyra! Wake up!"
Lyra's eyes fluttered open to the sight of a vibrant sunset painting the sky in hues of pink and orange. She sat up abruptly, momentarily disoriented.
"Oh no! Mom, what time is it?" she exclaimed.
"Seven o'clock," Elara replied with a serene smile, standing at the edge of the garden. "The water is ready for you. Go take a bath! The ceremony is about to begin."
"The ceremony! I can't believe I almost overslept!" Lyra scrambled to her feet and dashed into the cabin.
The bathroom was warm and inviting, steam gently wafting from the perfectly heated bathwater. Hanging neatly on the door was her new academy robe, pristine and elegant.
She quickly slipped into the bath, the warm water soothing her nerves. Thoughts raced through her mind about the new journey ahead. Stepping out, she donned her school robes, the fabric soft and comforting against her skin.
Emerging from the bathroom, she noticed her hair was still damp, droplets trickling down her back. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was ten minutes to eight.
"Hold still!" Elara said cheerfully, waving her wand with a flourish. A gentle, warm breeze encircled Lyra, and in moments, her hair was dry and flowing.
"Now for the finishing touch," Elara added, producing a beautifully crafted black headband adorned with shimmering purple gems. She placed it carefully on Lyra's head.
"Hmm... let's go with Hairstyle Number Two!"
The ends of the headband magically extended like tiny, delicate hands. They deftly wove through Lyra's long hair, braiding and styling with expert precision. In less than three minutes, she had an elegant half-up hairstyle, the headband nestled perfectly among her locks.
"What is this...?" Lyra asked, touching the delicate tassels that dangled from the headband.
"It's the Hair Witch's Classic Magic Headband," Elara explained, her eyes twinkling. "It can create eighteen classic hairstyles. Simple and beautiful!"
Lyra's fingers traced the intricate design. "Mom, it's wonderful," she whispered. "Thank you so much."
"Little Lyra, congratulations on your admission!" Elara said warmly, pulling her into a gentle embrace.
Emotion welled up inside Lyra. She knew that Her mother Elara wasn't well off financially. They had always lived modestly, and magical items like this headband were a luxury. The gesture touched her deeply.
"I'll treasure it always," Lyra said softly.
Just then, the only magic bell in the house that hadn't been packed away chimed melodiously.
"Ding ding ding!"
"It's eight o'clock," Elara noted, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.
Suddenly, Lyra felt a slight warmth on her hand. Looking down, she saw that the emblem on her admission letter was beginning to glow.
"Mom, remember to send me letters!" Lyra exclaimed hurriedly, realizing she had only moments left.
Elara nodded, her eyes glistening. "I will. Take care of yourself, and don't forget everything you've learned."
They shared one last, heartfelt embrace.
"I love you, Mom," Lyra whispered.
"I love you too, my dear. Now go, and make your mark on the world."
3
Before Lyra could say another word, the glowing light enveloped her. With a final, reassuring smile from her mother, she felt herself being gently lifted, transported to the next chapter of her life.
---
"Little Lyra! Wake up!"
Lyra's eyes fluttered open to the sight of a sky ablaze with the colors of sunset. She sat up abruptly, realizing she had dozed off.
"Oh no! Mom, what time is it?" she exclaimed, a hint of panic in her voice.
"Seven o'clock," Elara replied calmly, standing at the edge of the garden. Her eyes held a mix of warmth and something unspoken. "The water is ready for you. Go take a bath! The ceremony is about to begin."
"The ceremony!" Lyra gasped, scrambling to her feet.
She dashed into the house and headed straight for the bathroom. Steam filled the room, and the scent of lavender and chamomile enveloped her. The bathwater shimmered slightly, a subtle touch of magic ensuring it was the perfect temperature. Hanging neatly on a hook was her new academy robe, pristine and gleaming softly.
Lyra quickly slipped into the warm water, letting it wash away her worries. Her thoughts raced with excitement and a touch of anxiety about the new journey ahead. After a quick rinse, she dried off and donned her school robes, the fabric smooth and comforting against her skin.
Emerging from the bathroom, she realized her long hair was still damp, droplets trickling down her back.
"There's no time to let it dry naturally," she murmured, glancing at the clock. It was ten minutes to eight.
"Hold still!" Elara called out with a cheerful grin.
With a graceful wave of her wand, a warm, gentle breeze encircled Lyra, drying her hair instantly.
"Thank you, Mom," Lyra said, relief evident in her voice.
"Wait, I have something special for you," Elara said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
From behind her back, she produced a beautifully crafted black headband adorned with sparkling purple gems.
"Where did you get that?" Lyra asked, her eyes widening in surprise.
"Hmm... let's try Hairstyle Number Two!" Elara declared playfully.
She placed the headband on Lyra's head. Immediately, the ends extended like tiny, delicate hands, weaving through her hair with expert precision. In less than three minutes, her hair was styled into an elegant half-up braid, the headband nestled perfectly among her locks.
"What is this?" Lyra asked, touching the soft tassels that hung from the headband.
"It's the Hair Witch's Classic Magic Headband," Elara explained. "It can create eighteen classic hairstyles. Simple and beautiful!"
Lyra's fingers traced the intricate design. "It's wonderful," she whispered. "But isn't this expensive?"
Elara waved off her concern. "Nonsense. Consider it a gift to celebrate your admission."
Emotion welled up inside Lyra. She knew that magical items like this weren't cheap, and Elara had always been careful with money.
"Thank you, Mom," she said softly, her eyes glistening. "I'll cherish it always."
Before they could say more, the only magical bell in the house that hadn't been packed away began to chime melodiously.
"Ding ding ding!"
"It's eight o'clock," Elara noted, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.
Suddenly, Lyra felt a slight warmth on her hand. Looking down, she saw that the emblem on her admission letter was beginning to glow.
"Mom, I—" she started, but words failed her.
Elara smiled gently, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Remember to send me letters, okay?"
"I will," Lyra promised, hugging her back fiercely. "I'll write as often as I can."
They pulled apart, and Elara brushed a stray strand of hair from Lyra's face. "I'm so proud of you. Go out there and show them what you're made of."
"Thank you for everything," Lyra said, her voice barely above a whisper.
The glowing light intensified, surrounding her in a soft luminescence. She felt a gentle pull, the magic preparing to transport her to the academy.
"Take care of yourself, Mom," she managed to say.
"You too, my dear," Elara replied, waving as the light enveloped Lyra completely.
In a flash, she was gone, whisked away to the next chapter of her life.
---
Elara stood alone in the quiet room, the echoes of their last moments lingering like ghosts. She had deliberately let Lyra sleep longer, using a touch of magic to spare her daughter the drawn-out sorrow of farewell.
"She's off to her grand adventure," Elara murmured to herself, a mix of pride and melancholy washing over her.
She glanced around the nearly empty house. It had served its purpose, a haven for them both, but now it was time to move on.
"Now that she's gone, it's time for me to continue my journey," she said resolutely.
Gathering her belongings, Elara stepped outside, locking the door behind her. The evening air was crisp, filled with the scent of pine and the promise of new beginnings.
With one last look at the home that had cradled so many memories, she turned and walked down the path, ready to embrace whatever adventures awaited her.