WITCHE'S BEAST *(needs editing )

Chapter One

The Witch

I had been running for days. My legs were failing me, my shoes torn to shreds until my feet peeked through the fabric—filthy, raw, bruised. They had lost all feeling; the numbness was worse than pain.

And you may wonder why I run. But the question is not why—the question is what I am running from.

It began in the woods.

I am a witch. A powerful one, though like all of my kind, I carry a weakness. Mine, I would learn too late, was tied to wolf blood. On the night it all changed, we were sent to gather herbs under the full moon, cloaked in black for protection. That was when I first heard the sounds—snarls, roars, the unmistakable violence of beasts tearing into one another.

At first, I thought them dogs, but as I drew closer, I saw the truth. Four massive creatures—larger than any hound, larger even than a bear—were circling one of their own. Wolves. Not ordinary wolves, but something darker, wilder. They did not fight to kill quickly. They tore into flesh slowly, deliberately, playing with their prey, savoring its pain.

My grandmother, Arieyanda, once told me of such monsters. Men who became beasts under the moon, wearing their curse like armor, their blood steeped in ancient, brutal magic. Werewolves. My kind was forbidden to cross their path. They lusted for our blood, for within it lay power.

I would have slipped away unnoticed, but fate is cruel. A twig cracked beneath my foot, and in an instant, five glowing pairs of eyes turned toward me.

The growls deepened. Their prey forgotten, they circled me instead.

“Oh, shit…” I breathed.

They were shadows made flesh, their fur so dark they seemed carved from the night itself. Before I could act, they lunged. I tried to blind them with my hands, but they were faster, their teeth tearing into me before I could summon a defense.

My mother’s voice whispered in my head: Close your eyes, my daughter. Imagine your blood laced with poison. Speak the words, and let them choke on it. Pethra derus, pethra.

With the last of my strength, I screamed, “PETHRA DERUS, PETHRA!”

Darkness closed in as I felt my blood burn with black magic. Their howls of agony filled the forest. A cruel smile curved my lips as I drifted into unconsciousness—let them choke on the same fate they had intended for me.

---

When I awoke, voices surrounded me. A girl’s whisper: “Mother, may I touch her? Just once?”

My eyes fluttered open. A woman and a child stood before me, both gazing at me with fear.

“Laura, call your father,” the woman said sharply. The girl ran.

I tried to speak, but my throat was parched. The woman’s beauty struck me even through my haze—raven-black hair, luminous skin, the radiance of one carrying life. But her words dripped with venom.

“You will not speak, demon.”

Demon? I almost laughed. I had been called many names, but never that. My body ached, my wounds still raw—unhealed, though by all rights they should have been closed. The room around me was no healer’s chamber but a prison.

The door opened. A man entered, tall, commanding. His voice thundered: “For poisoning four of my sons, demon, you will answer to me.”

His sons. I realized then—the wolves. He called them sons.

“They are not beasts,” he snarled, reading the thought from my eyes. “They are wolves. Our kind. And if you do not heal them, I will end you myself.”

Wolves. The ancient stories were true.

“Wa… ter…” I rasped. The woman scowled but gave me a glass. More people filed into the room, a crowd hungry for blood.

“Demon, speak!” the Alpha bellowed.

“I am no demon,” I managed. “And I did not poison your sons. They drank from my blood. Your wild animals attacked me, and I defended myself.”

The crowd erupted, growls vibrating the walls.

“She lies,” someone shouted. “She must be destroyed!”

“Undo it,” the Alpha commanded. “Undo what you’ve done, and perhaps I will let you live.”

The door burst open before I could answer.

And then—him.

The most beautiful man I had ever seen. His black hair gleamed, his ocean-blue eyes swept the room, and when they fell upon me, my breath stopped. My heart stuttered, my soul leaned toward him as if it already knew him. Every instinct in me screamed that I wanted this man—needed him.

“What is her name?” he asked, his voice like steel wrapped in velvet. “Every demon has a name. Tell me hers.”

My pulse quickened. My name? Impossible. Witches never gave their names—it was a sacred rule.

“You will speak,” he warned, “or I will make you.”

“No,” I hissed. “No fucking way.”

He turned to the others. “Strip her. Her name will be carved into her body. Speak it aloud, and whatever spell she cast will break.”

I froze. He knew too much. Did he also know I was a witch? His gaze locked on mine, and the air between us shifted—charged, heavy. I saw the truth in his eyes: he felt it too. The pull. The bond.

“Maria,” he said to a woman beside him, “search her.”

“But, son—”

“She’s a witch,” he cut her off.

The room fell silent.

“How do you know this?” his father demanded.

“Because I was there,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine. “The night my brothers were poisoned. I heard her chant. I saw her.”

Recognition hit me like a storm. Those same eyes… the wolf I thought would never live to see another moon.

“It was you,” I whispered. Rage and disbelief warred within me. “Your brothers nearly killed you, and you’d be dead if not for me!”

His jaw tightened. “Witch, I was training with them. We are wild animals by nature. Now, speak your name!”

“I will undo the spell,” I spat, “but I will not give you my name. That is forbidden.”

The room tensed. His gaze bore into mine, cold and unyielding, yet gods help me—I found it devastatingly beautiful.

“Son, let her undo it,” his father said.

“I do not trust her,” he replied, his eyes still on me. “But if she values her life, she will undo it. After all, my blood nearly killed her.”

My breath caught. His blood. Not theirs. That was why I was still weak. Wolves’ blood was my weakness—and his had nearly destroyed me.

An elderly woman stepped forward, her hair white as snow, her eyes ancient and knowing. She pointed at him.

“It was not their bite that weakens her. It is his. His blood runs in her veins. That is her weakness.”

Our eyes met again, and in that moment, I knew.

I was doomed.