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A Discovery Of Witches Fan

Emerald Witch

Betrayed,plotted against,and killed. Elodie Adedora’s corpse was left to glaciate in a cold abyss… but why does this protagonist wake up seven years later? … Far away, off the outskirts of the Solaria kingdom, where the sun and warmth were scarce. A dark cave, lit only by the dim reflection of silver chains, suspending a single person to an icy wall. The person's skin, dark and covered in winters frost. The hairs on her head and eyelashes were grey, covered by tiny icicles. Her lips, pale of all color, cracked, and like the rest of her, cold. But, slowly, her lips were the first to melt. Her eyes started to flutter open, revealing brown eyes flickering with white. A bright, illuminating, magical white. "Kill the queen. You must kill the queen. That is why you are alive." The iridescent shimmer of white began to spread across her body, intertwining itself with the natural ebony color of her skin that was stuck to her bones. The intense frail appearance of the girl filled out into a healthy complexion. The melting ice dripped like water down her skin, and the more that dripped, the more alive the unconscious body seemed to become.  Just as a first warm breath escaped the girl's mouth, a spiteful emotion bubbled up to the surface, flashing across the girl's eyes. Pain, suffering, and betrayal. Those were the three most prevalent in her expression. One of the three must've been a feeling strong enough to revive the dead. The chains on her arms were thick and bulky, frosted over with a glaze of ice and frost. In a second however, she ripped her arms away from the stone that in prisoned her, falling weakly to other side, where her other arm remained suspended to the ice wall. A screamed ripped out of the girl who had just awoken, the voice of regret. It echoed against the walls of the cave. Her restraints shattered in a horrifying unison, metal bits flying in different directions in the room. Falling to the ground, her shivering body hit the ice floor below her. The ice ground made direct contact with her knees and forearms. Under the intense contact, they scraped and peeled. Yet, the girl's hands and knees held strong as she stood up. Her dark, raven black hair fell in front of her face, a protruding but delicate nose bridge interrupted its flow.  "You will never be forgiven..." Were the first words to leave the girl's lips. The white flickers and crackles in her eyes and across her skin had calmed. The iridescent shimmer had also vanished, and yet,  Now was the moment the girl appeared the most intimidating, warm tears of anger had overtaken the melted ice on her skin, obstructing parts of her vision. She raised her head, and with it, a stem of green glow manifested from no where. In her palms, the white shimmer of light had now turned a threatening forest green. In this icy prison was where the infamous evil witch was held captive. It would also be the same place which this story begins.
INFJX · 1.3K Views

The Witch’s Vow

The night Elira was born, the sky wept with a storm so fierce it drowned the village’s crops and sent the river surging through the streets. The elders whispered that it was an omen—a cursed child had entered the world. Her mother, Lirien, barely survived the birth. She had screamed through the labor, clutching the straw bedding as if the pain itself was trying to steal her soul. When she finally held her newborn daughter, she gasped—not out of love, but fear. Elira’s eyes were too sharp, too knowing for a child who had only just entered the world. The midwife, an old woman with trembling hands, hesitated before cutting the umbilical cord. A chill passed through the room, the flickering oil lamp nearly snuffing out. The air felt… wrong. The village healer arrived soon after, summoned in desperation. She pressed her palm to the newborn’s tiny chest, feeling the thrum of something unnatural beneath her skin. “She is touched by the old magic,” the healer murmured. “A witch, from birth.” Lirien sobbed, clutching her baby to her chest. “No, please. My daughter is innocent.” The healer gave her a sorrowful look. “You must keep her hidden. If the village learns the truth, they will fear her.” And so, Elira grew up in the shadows. Her childhood was not one of warmth, but of caution. Her mother, though loving in her own way, kept her at arm’s length, afraid of what she might become. Her father, a bitter man worn down by poverty, looked at her as if she were the reason for all his misfortunes. But magic cannot be contained forever. At the age of five, Elira made a dead flower bloom in her hands. At seven, she whispered to the wind, and it answered. At ten, she healed a wound on her mother’s arm simply by touching it. Her family’s fear grew with each passing year. They did not see a daughter, a sister. They saw a curse. Then, when Elira was thirteen, something happened that changed everything. A boy from the village—one who had tormented her for years, throwing stones and calling her “witchspawn”—fell from a tree and broke his leg. The bone jutted through his skin, his screams echoing through the hills. Elira, acting on instinct, ran to him. She laid her hands on his leg, her power surging like a wave. The bone snapped back into place. The wound closed. He was healed. But instead of gratitude, there was terror. The boy’s mother shrieked. Villagers came running. They saw what she had done, what she was. “Witch,” they whispered. “Monster.” By nightfall, her family had packed their belongings and fled the village, leaving behind the only home they had ever known. They wandered from town to town, never staying in one place too long. Her parents blamed her for their misfortune, for their suffering. They cursed her magic, wished it had never been born within her. But when Elira turned eighteen, everything changed again. A wealthy businessman came to their town, looking for a wife. He was powerful, rich beyond imagination—a man who could lift them from poverty. And he wanted a woman who was pure, untouched, innocent. Elira’s parents saw an opportunity. “She is a blessing,” her mother told him, forcing a smile. “A gift from the heavens.” Elira said nothing. She had learned long ago that the world would never see her for what she truly was. And so, she was given away to a man who believed he had married a saint—when in truth, he had married a witch.
Ashe_world · 5.6K Views

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fomoban577 · 656 Views
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