1. Teenage Witch

Chapter 1

Teenage Witch

Ten years Ago…

Sixteen-year-old Nova was fated to come into her powers during the winter solstice. The day of the Sun’s rebirth holds strong spiritual energy that the elders of the coven called upon to guide her magical spirit to awaken. The initiation ceremony took place at her family’s cottage.

Their coven started small, with only three people, foundered by Nova’s ancestors, hundreds of years prior. Though their community grew in size, their primary focus was building a close-knit community.

To date, there were twelve coven members. Nova would complete their circle. Although covens could have many members, thirteen was symbolically considered the ideal number.

Even though a man led their coven, he empowered the members. Since the founding of their coven, they embraced thirteen as the divine feminine number of the moon. There were thirteen lunar cycles in a calendar year, and it was the Anishinabe who designated the names of the moon to correspond with seasonal influences. They held reverence and respect for the tribe for this.

Aside from the moon, thirteen was significant for women as they had thirteen menstrual cycles too per year that often corresponded to the moon cycle. Nova was born on the thirteenth moon, sixteen years prior.

The midwife brought Nova’s laboring mother out of the cottage before the ceremonial bonfire. The coven drew a protected circle around her and held hands, chanting spells and raising their voices to the heavens to guide Nova’s spirit. Nature ran its course, and when the time came to push, she remained upright. She assumed an animalistic position on all fours and howled at the moon as her daughter entered the world.

The writhing infant, covered in vernix and blood, was caught by her father. He held her against his bare chest to keep her warm and gave thanks to the elements. The cord remained intact until the placenta passed. Nova’s mother picked up the organ and held it up in the firelight as the group watched on in awe. The new mother bit a huge chunk of flesh off and swallowed it, allowing it to nourish her body and take advantage of its unique healing properties. After she consumed her fill, she sacrificed the rest in thanks to the goddess for the birth of their healthy baby girl.

Those in attendance pulled off their clothes and danced naked under the full moon in celebration until dawn. No one was shy about open fornication either if the spirit moved them. Nova’s parents didn’t partake in the revelry, they only had eyes for their baby.

As the first ray of sun crossed the horizon, father and baby led the group to the spring for the first bath. Despite the early morning chill and the crisp water, no one fell ill—in fact, they all felt invigorated. Though she wouldn’t develop her powers for years, the newborn witch was perceived as the most potent amongst them.

For the first lunar cycle after Nova’s birth, a member of the coven would spend the night in their cottage, offering assistance with the newborn. They’d gladly take on cooking, cleaning, and helping the new mother with nursing, without complaint. This was done for every new child born within their community, not just for their leader. They thrived under the belief that it takes a village to raise a child and everyone pitched in when possible. It was a beautiful thing.

Every year, members of the coven brought an offering to the goddess. They threw everything from herbs to personal tokens into the fire. She granted her blessing for the upcoming year, as long as the gift came from the heart. The flames danced and changed color in acceptance.

“Praise be!” their voices lifted in unison.

When it was Nova’s turn, her sacrifice could only be made in blood. The coven leader held the ritual dagger in his hand and addressed those surrounding the ritual flames in anticipation.

“As we gather this evening to celebrate the shortest day of the year, we do not look back, as it marks the end of winter’s darkest days. We look forward to the days that come full of light and longer days.

“We offer gifts while reflecting on our lives and spirituality while setting intentions. The meaning of today goes deeper than merely sharing the gift of light. We are blessed to accept a new member into our coven as my daughter has come of age.”

“Praise be!” they rejoiced.

“Let me see your hand, Nova,” he said.

She turned her palm up for him and watched the blade drag across her palm, leaving a small bloody trail behind. She flinched, but didn’t make a pained sound.

“Step up to the ritual fire and pledge yourself as one of us. May the mother shower you with gifts.”

Nova stepped forward as instructed and tightened her fist. The warm crimson fluid dripped between her fingers and into the hungry tongues. The logs hissed as the heat caused the droplets to fizzle.

The flame flared green, showing she was a kitchen witch. Her gift allowed her to channel her magical energy and manifest it in her sacred kitchen. She would craft spells through herbs and tinctures, serving the coven through food and cooking.

Each witch carried their own blessing to share with the coven. Nova could already bake cinnamon buns, but now she could elevate them to bring joy and fullness to tomorrow’s dawn ceremony.

“She will be blessed with abundance and wealth,” a warlock said.

“Rejoice for luck has been granted to our coven!” a witch exclaimed.

A hearth witch held a renowned position, as this witch was seen as the heart of the coven. As the youngest member of their community and newest witch to her coven, it felt right to embrace this role. With her, the next generation would surely follow.

The strongest witch or warlock was the leader. Nova’s father would hold this role until the next leader emerged from their group. His successor would be revealed by the fires when the time was right.

Geralt’s powers would weaken as the next leader grew stronger, as was the divine design, much like an alpha losing their strength. He would retire and live as a respected elder for the rest of his days.

A log suddenly popped, causing the fire to flame crimson. Gasps and exclamations rang out around the fire. Red flame sparked her passion and opened her empathic abilities.

“Two gifts!”

“The Goddess has blessed her. Let us give thanks.”

“Not surprising from our leader’s daughter. Praise be.”

The flame danced until a blue hue appeared. A wealth of wisdom was suddenly open to her as her third eye opened. Her body trembled in tune with the earth’s vibrations.

“Be open to the spirits with love and light, child, and they will guide you.”

As though a shadow descended on the pit, a robust black flame roared toward the moonlight sky. Thanks to it, negative energy had been cleansed from the coven. Thanks to Nova, enlightenment would be theirs. She would usher a new era, bringing stability and protection to the group.

“Will she be the next coven leader?”

“That’s impossible.”

“You’ve seen the flames!”

“She will be the strongest witch among us.”

Several other colors flickered before the flames died down. No one had expected Nova to receive multiple blessings, and it was a lot of responsibility to thrust upon the shoulders of a teenager. The sun hadn’t even set on her birthday and yet so many things had changed about her, while remaining the same.

A strange, tingly sensation began in Nova’s palm, distracting her from the sacred pit. When she unclenched her first, she stared wide-eyed at the wound that knitted itself closed. She was afraid to touch it at first, but when she lifted her eyes to her father’s, he gave her an encouraging nod. The skin was utterly smooth as she stroked her thumb across it, as though the cut never happened. She wiped the dried blood on her smock for good measure.

The coven leader, a tall man in his mid-thirties, held her eyes as he stepped forward once more. His dark, shaggy hair was loose around his shoulders that night when he normally wore it back. His ceremonial robes, an heirloom passed down for generations, would one day belong to the next leader. The black cloak was embroidered with a silver thread, displaying symbols of a pentagram, the horned god, the triple goddess, and more. Each leader hand stitched their own symbol into it, adding to its storied history. various crystals, such as quartz, amethyst, and tourmaline, were woven into the hem. Spell sachets were placed in the inner pockets, leaving it with an herbal scent.

If Nova blinked, she would’ve missed the mischievous wink he gave her before stepping into the flames. The tongues of fire surrounded him, casting an ominous glow over him, but not singing a single hair on his head or thread from his cloak. He raised his hands, and the members of the coven gave him their undivided attention.

His voice rang with pride as he spoke.

“Welcome to a very special solstice celebration. Sixteen years ago, the greatest blessing in my life was born under the guidance of the full moon. Today, we welcome her as a member of our coven.

“Let us lift our voices in praise. Thank the Horned God and the Goddess for bestowing these gifts on our daughter. I will proudly call her the next leader if the fates have decreed it, so mote it be!”

“So mote it be,” echoed the smiling, sandy-blonde, petite woman, who stood a step behind him to his right.

When Geralt stepped out of the sacred fire, the flames grew higher, reaching for the sky. The revival fueled the surrounding revelry. Men and women around them began to remove their clothes and dance under the full moon.

The celebration of the longest night lasted until dawn. They headed to the stream for their morning bath. Nova felt invigorated as the cool waters enveloped her body.

When they returned home, Nova’s mother made her a restorative brew. Once she finished it, her mother tucked her into bed as she had when she was little.

The teenage witch fell asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow. As she slumbered, magic imbued her body, melding into every cell, literally changing every fiber of her being.

Mastering her magic would require years of practice and study, but the bond was unbreakable.

Ramsey, who went by Ash, didn’t know Nova was a witch. There was no reason to reveal her family’s secret before she’d been gifted her powers. But now she was bubbling with excitement, ready to share her news with him.

A few days later, Ash joined her family for Yule dinner. Notes of cinnamon and orange filled the air as a traditional yule log burned in the hearth. Instead of hanging mistletoe, Nova made a witch ball from a clear glass ornament. She filled it with spell ingredients while whispering her intentions for the upcoming year before hanging it in the window.

The young lovers traded simpering looks across the dining table as they enjoyed a stew that she helped her mother cook. Their relationship was no secret to her parents. Learning his parents were away for the holiday, they invited him to spend it with them. Nova’s community didn’t celebrate Christmas, even though it was more of a secular holiday in modern times.

“Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Wardle,” Ash said between bites of the sumptuous meal. “It’s delicious.”

“Thank you, Ash. Nova did most of the prep work. She’s become quite the kitchen witch.”

Nova’s face colored as Ash stared wide-eyed at her. He put his fork down and squeezed her hand.

“Thank you, Nova,” he said sincerely.

“You’re welcome.”

Dinner wasn’t the only present Nova had for Ash. She still had her secret to share. His gift to her waited in the living room.

Nova’s father cleared his throat. “Now that we’ve filled our bellies, I think it’s time to discuss your intentions with our daughter, young man.”

Nova’s parents lived in the same community. They’d grown up together and dated as teens themselves. They married right out of high school, and she came along shortly after. There were teens around her age in their community, but none of them appealed to her like Ash. He was her one true love.

“Dad!” Nova groaned, looking at her father scandalized.

While the coven leader was a kind-hearted man, he wouldn’t let anyone hurt his only child. The lines on his forehead deepened as his eyes became icy, waiting for Ash to answer.

“Geralt,” Sophie cautioned. “Let the children be. Can’t you see the magic love has woven between them?”

Geralt met his wife’s eyes and relented. He shook his head as Sophie reached her hand across the table. He took it and brought the back of it to his lips. Nova beamed at her parents. Their affection for each other showed her the kind of relationship she longed to have.

“Just remember that I can turn you into a toad if you hurt my little girl.”

Nova giggled as Ash swallowed, unnerved for a moment. Of course, there was no power to transform humans into toads. However, for a father to his teen daughter’s suitor, it was satisfying to cause the young man to squirm a little. Stereotypes and common misconceptions follow those who practice the craft today. It was looked at as something goth kids dabbled in for attention, or that it’s somehow evil and sordid. They didn’t dance around bonfires naked (except for fun), sacrifice firstborn babies, or any other nonsense. There is no devil in the craft. Some witches and warlocks practiced dark magic, but they were strictly light.

“Understood, sir. I assure you I care deeply for Nova. I have no desire nor intention to hurt her.”

“Good man,” Geralt said. “Then I offer my blessings for your relationship. May you continue growing a strong foundation and appreciation for one another. May your goals for the future align.”

Nova’s eyes twinkled as she and looked from her father to mother.

“I offer my blessings for your relationship. May you find strength in one another to overcome every adversity. May empathy open your hearts to be each other’s rock.”

Warmth bloomed in Nova’s chest as she turned to Ash. He held his hand out to her, and she placed her palm in his, wearing a matching grin. After a quick squeeze, Nova jumped up from the table.

“Thank you, Mom.”

She threw her arms around her mother.

“We love you, Nova,” her mother said.

Nova turned to hug her father next.

“Thank you, Dad.”

“Just remember one thing,” he said solemnly. “You cannot fight fate.”

A pensive silence settled over the table, replacing Nova’s elation. Her parent’s smiles no longer reached their eyes. and there was a sheen in her mother’s green eyes. A wave of sorrow passed through them that pierced her heart, almost drowning her. She didn’t need magic or her mother’s gift of foresight to realize tragedy would befall her relationship.

Fate —divine destiny—the interwoven tapestry was about to unravel in a way that would tear Nova apart.

The Wardles and Hayes families came from very different backgrounds. Their ancestors had once been interwoven until they chose different paths. Martin Hayes chose a business venture that turned out to be quite lucrative, leaving each future generation wealthier than the last. Martha Hayes ran away from her home to marry into the Wardle family.

The rift between the siblings fractured future the fabric of their family tree. The Wardles were magic bearers, and Martha’s daughter became a member of the coven once she came of age, which led Martin’s son to become a witch hunter.

During the last witch hunt in the late 19th century, Sanford Hayes rounded up a coven and executed three witches and a warlock. His deputies had set a trap and caught them celebrating the solstice, which had been outlawed.

There had been no trial. The prisoners were marched to the town square where the executioners had built gallows. The executioner slipped four nooses around the necks of the accused.

“Any last words?” Sanford asked.

“Your savior was a warlock,” one witch cried.

“Blasphemy! Heresy!” the townsfolk decreed. “Our savior performed miracles. You worship the devil and belong in hell.”

“He performed miracles using magic. There is no devil in our craft. You are committing a grievous sin in the name of your god. If my death shall promote peace among us, so mote it be,” the warlock told his executioner.

“You have been convicted of crimes against the Almighty—the one veritable god. Your sinfulness is an affront to nature. For breaking HIS laws, you are sentenced you to death. May God have mercy on your souls.”

Sanford nodded to his executioner. The masked man kicked over the crates supporting the prisoners as he walked along the line. A sharp drop after the box fell caused the first witch’s neck to snap instantly. Her body swung limply as the woman next to her kicked her legs, making gurgling sounds as the noose strangled her. The rope of the third witch snapped, and she landed on her feet on the wooden platform. She tried to run but was caught by the executioner. He wrapped his hands around her neck. It was impossible to fight back with her bound hands, and she eventually stopped struggling because of lack of oxygen.

The warlock, who was the most powerful of them all, became enraged as he watched his sisters die. He freed himself and snapped the executioner’s neck. The screams and cries from the crowd provided the chaos needed to collect the bodies and flee.

After that event, Nova’s great-great-grandfather, Alton Wardle, buried his sisters near the creek where they had grown up. He rallied the remaining families and established their protected community. The following moon, Nova’s great-grandmother, was born, and her birth foretold a prophecy.

The Hayes had shed blood, and there could be no peace between them. Those with pure hearts would reunite them one day. They could fix the fracture with their love but at great detriment to themselves.