Her Dark Soul
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"They say once you go dark, you don't go back. That remains true for me." "I'm Lady Isra, the most ferocious villain in the land or so I hear. The people say a lot about me. They say I am heartless, cold and wicked. But they don't know what made me this way. I lost love becoming trapped in the throes of darkness." "I'm isolated in this world. I've taken the power of a dragon. I've cast a spell upon myself so that only those who possess the ability of magic can feast their eyes upon me." "But now I've met him. This magnificent being. He's a raven. I can't help but admire him. Astrid, now what a handsome fellow. I don't know where he will take me but I'm curious to step into his claws." A witch drawn to the dark world that's only going to go darker. A tale of magic and romance. Perfect for fans of fairy tales and Disney. Isra Sravenheart, USA Today Best Selling Author takes you into a world where a witch reigns supreme in her fortress while her pet raven Astrid shows her what true companionship can be.

Chapter 1 One

From the beginning, there has always been magic. It can destroy us, but it can also be the best thing for us.

Things are not always black and white; witches are not always bad, but they are not always good, either.

Back to a time not so long ago, there was a witch named Lady Isra, and she was incredibly powerful. She possessed a great many abilities and qualities: power, control, authority, and beauty. But yet she had no heart, and a witch without a heart is a wicked witch indeed because as this story tells, she became darker as time went on.

We began in autumn when the leaves were tumbling down from the trees in bold shades of cherry, flamed orange, and burnt copper. The land was changing; the season of summer was escaping. Many men and women cared not to dwell here.

Amidst the beauty of the land, a majestic shining tower stood on a hilltop and was the center of it all, showcasing the land's most ferocious villain. She was not at all kind, graceful, or loving. She had lost a love many years ago, and now only bitter tears flowed. Tears of what she had lost, tears of what she'd once had. Tears of fear, regret, and pain.

Life for this witch was never quite the same as it once was. She kept to herself and spoke with only the animals, having a strong connection with them. She admired their beauty and power. She knew many of the beings by name, and some were even guides and messengers who helped her from time to time. They were not afraid of her despite the consuming darkness inside her soul. They saw good in all beings, a trait not very well known.

In this land, the witch was highly respected but also feared. It was said in many villages, "Do not cross the witch! She is very wicked and doesn't take kindly to being crossed." The best advice the townspeople could give was, "Stay away from her."

The witch did not care for them or their words; she lived in seclusion and had done so for most of her life and was comfortable with it. She spent most of her time studying her craft and learning more about the world she lived in, reading up on all the secret and not so secret knowledge of the magical world that not many knew of or even cared about.

Sometimes people would come to the witch because they'd heard of the things she could do. She could banish, but she could bind and return selfish and negative behaviors back to those who had originally cast them out, as well. She knew every curse and all the hexes. If someone had a problem and wasn't afraid of her, she was the one they could go to for help.

A young lady had come to the witch and asked for her assistance, for another woman was attempting to take her husband. The witch prepared a spell, and after doing everything that needed to be done, she sat the young woman down and told her what to do. When they were done, she thought it was the last she would hear from her.

A week later on a dark, full moon, the young woman contacted the witch again. She had been sitting at her table sorting herbs and putting them into their correctly labeled jars when a loud knock on the old, stiff oak door startled her. She saw it was the young woman, invited her in and made some tea.

"He's going to leave me for her!" the young woman cried.

The witch, having heard this story much too often, told the young woman to calm down. She grabbed a dagger and asked the young woman to hold out her hand. She did as the witch requested. The witch carefully slashed the dagger across the young woman's hand, making an incision just below the young woman's marriage finger. She let the thick, red blood drip onto a piece of parchment and then into a cup of water.

"Write his name on the parchment. And drink the water. This will bind him to you and only you. It has never failed me," said the witch with a soft tone.

The young woman wrote her husband's name on the parchment and gave it back to the witch, who folded it in halves a few times, then wrapped string tightly around the parcel. She handed it to the young woman.

"Now place this somewhere hidden, close to where he sleeps. Go, you must do this immediately!"

And with that, the witch never heard from the young woman again.

It was situations like these the witch was best at solving; a little magic went a long way if a person knew how to use it. Magic is not something to be misused, although as time went by, it did get misused but the witch was okay with that. She liked being powerful, dark and hidden. She liked coming out of her fortress, only at night, rejoicing her hatred through the dark misty skies.

She loved opening and closing mystical doors, as well as removing things that were no longer useful. This was the life she led and her heart no longer bled, for it had been blackened years previously by another's inner needs but there will be more on that later. Nevertheless, she was seen as somewhat of a dark savior.

Autumn came and went, and the snow of winter fell.

It was time for another very dark spell.

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