It was night, and more than seven witches from various magical clans across Europe had gathered in that small Swedish town to perform the most important ritual of their lives.
Since the dawn of humanity, their families had practiced magic in secret, spreading their craft to all, doing good (and evil) for those who asked or deserved it.
However, now the persecution was relentless. In Sweden alone, four women had been hanged the previous week, only one of whom was truly a practitioner of the craft.
"My sisters, I know it is very difficult to say this, but... if we continue with our magic, we will not survive for much longer. The witch hunts in Europe are relentless," said Brigitte Rosenkrone af Lilleström, a noblewoman from Stockholm.
Beside her stood Fergus Ní Chléirigh, an Irishman who had flown across the North Sea to Torsåker to perform the ritual with his "sisters" in the craft. He was holding a grimoire and, without hesitation, said, "We must do this—not just for ourselves, but for our children and those yet to be born. They cannot inherit this curse that is having magic—or rather, being a witch."
"Do you truly believe renouncing magic is our best option? Without magic, we are vulnerable..." commented the Bulgarian Ivana Lemova, the youngest of the group, at only 19 years old.
"And with magic, we are targets," said Brigitte, her gaze filled with compassion.
Without further delay, the seven formed a circle around a rudimentary altar made of stones taken from a nearby river. It was, of course, incredibly difficult to give up something that had defined their families for centuries—a legacy of identity that now, because of human malice, felt more like a curse than a gift.
Thus, the seven began to chant their own incantations, declaring that one day, their powers would be inherited by a future generation of their descendants. The altar began to absorb their magic, bursting into a colorful visual rainbow.
From Brigitte emanated yellow rays, like sunflowers basking in sunlight. Ivana, in turn, released red magic, as intense as her own blood pulsing through her veins. The Englishwoman, Elizabeth Whirley, saw her energy flow in shades of blue, gentle and steady, like a spring releasing crystal-clear water. Björk, from Iceland, let her magic take the form of deep indigo rays, brilliant and rich, like clusters of ripe grapes. Fergus, on the other hand, radiated orange energy, burning like the twilight on the horizon. Amalia Estevez felt her magic dissolve into green beams, as vibrant as the life of a thriving forest. Finally, Gabriela Fiorescu released violet rays, mysterious and captivating, surrounding the environment with an aura of intrigue.
The rock absorbed their magic and crystallized into an obsidian stone, impenetrable and indestructible.
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The Wiches Road : A christmas story
FantasyIn the 17th century, amidst the brutality of the witch hunts in Europe, a group of powerful sorceresses gave up their magic, sealing it within an ancestral spell to protect their descendants from persecution. Their sacrifice did not spare them from...
