He's Under My Spell

Name: He's Under My Spell
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

mspeachy

Fantasy | Ongoing

5.0

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Priscilla, once vibrant and full of life, now carries the scars of a difficult past. The memories, like a bitter wind, constantly tempt her to retreat into solitude. She wonders if she'll ever escape the loneliness that has become her constant companion. Then, a flicker of hope. Fate, it seems, has a playful hand. Someone new enters her life, gently nudging at the walls she's built around her heart. This person offers a potential bridge back to the world she once knew, a world filled with the warmth of human connection. But will Priscilla be able to overcome her fear? Will she be able to dismantle the defenses she has put up, one by one? Will she be able to trust herself to open up to the new, to risk blooming again, even if it means facing the possibility of pain? The choice is hers: stay in the shadows or accept the promise of a new season, a season full of beauty and the possibility of love.

Mystery Fantasy Revenge Curse Witch/Wizard Magical

Chapter 2 Hero

01-20 10:18

Chapter 1 Parents Death

"Hello? Nay? Tay? It's me, Priscilla! I'm home. I brought your favorite bread, remember?" Priscilla's voice echoed through the empty house, each unanswered ring twisting her stomach into knots. "Please answer, Nay? Tay?"

She sank onto the worn wooden bench by the door, fear prickling her skin. "They wouldn't just ignore me," she whispered, clutching the loaf of bread tightly. "Especially not when I brought their favorite..."

A flicker of suspicion ignited in her eyes. The townspeople. They'd been muttering about her parents lately, accusing them of all sorts of terrible things. "They wouldn't..." Priscilla shook her head, dismissing the thought. Her parents were good witches, healers and protectors, not the villains the townsfolk painted them to be.

But the doubt lingered. Who else could it be? The whispers of the bad black witches echoed in her mind, their jealousy of her parents' power, their constant attempts to undermine them. Could they have finally done something?

"Those wretched black witches," Priscilla muttered, her voice trembling with anger. "They've always resented us, ever since Nay and Tay started using their magic to help people. They couldn't stand seeing good witches thriving."

A memory surfaced, a heated argument in the coven, the black witches sneering at her parents, accusing them of defying the natural order. "You meddle where you don't belong!" one of them had a spat. "True magic is about power, not charity!"

Priscilla shuddered, the memory still chilling her to the bone. Her ancestors, powerful white witches, had always used their magic for good. It was in her blood.

Desperation clawed at her. She had to find her parents. With trembling hands, Priscilla lit the candles for the ancient locator spell, whispering the incantation under her breath. But the flames flickered and died, refusing to reveal her parents' location.