The Witch of Willow Lake - 1

1927

I wasn’t sure exactly how long it had been. Days, weeks, and months all seemed to blur together, and I’d stopped keeping track of the sunrises and sunsets after some time. It had been just over a year though. I’d only known this because while I was passing through a small town during the night a couple of weeks ago, I’d seen a stack of newspapers outside of a shop, bundled up that had just been delivered, and took a peek at the date.

The entire time, I spent running, never staying in one place, avoiding people out of fear of hurting them the way I had Mary.

I couldn’t define what the powers felt like. It was like I had this tremendous energy inside me, and sometimes the energy became too much to handle.

If I didn’t release the power, it would become intolerable, as if I was being submerged under a heavy substance, and breathing became impossible — a little like drowning.

I recalled the things my parents would tell us; they’d often say if you couldn’t control the powers, they became too overbearing, and that’s why some ended up abusing the magic. They failed to control the extreme pressure and energy build-up. They were also seductive, alluring, addictive, each spell leaving you wanting to cast another.

I’d watched one member of our coven succumb to them, one of the elders. We were only supposed to use our powers when needed, never for menial tasks; however, he ignored that rule.

I watched him age rapidly, and by the time he was thirty, he looked as if he was in his seventies. He became frail and weak, unable to teach or train his young son, Sam. He eventually died eighteen months before the attack on Willow Lake, when he was just thirty-one.

I found myself ever thankful my father always included me in Zach’s training. Even when we had no idea if I would develop powers, and then when I didn’t, my father insisted I joined them regardless.

He said it was essential I understood the powers and their capabilities. One day, when their time came and they got too old, they would leave the coven to Zach and me. One day it would be ours to rule, the way he and mother had commanded it, whether or not I had powers. Being born a Davenport meant it was my birthright.

The first few months had been nothing short of hellish, though. Zach could put his training into practice, and his powers came gradually, developed over time. Mine came all at once and unexpectedly.

I had to piece together the rules from slightly scattered and vague memories. My brain felt fried from everything that had happened over the past two years, and it was almost as if I was suffering from a mild form of amnesia from the trauma. Except, rather than my brain forgetting all the horrible things, it was forgetting things from before the attack.

I’d composed them just enough to get by without being caught, during times I passed through a town, or a city, but it drained me every time I tried to contain them too long.

Occasionally the red static would appear when the pressure became too much, or my emotions ran high, but all I would have to do is cast a minor spell for a limited release.

I’d spent my time living in the forest, taking shelter as I had before I found Silver Oak at night. I hunted small animals for food and took water from small rivers, pools, and lakes whenever I saw the chance.

Night in the woods was a deadly time. During the day, the only supernatural creatures you’d come across were those like me — Warlocks, or Witches, in my case. However, I was almost sure at this point; I was the last one alive from my coven.

However, at night, that’s when our enemies came. The Vampires and the ones we feared the most, Wolves. Wolves would come out during the day, however, in the day times, they rarely strayed far from their homes, and were usually more subdued. It was at night, with the moon’s light, they became their most ferocious.

There had always been friction between all supernatural creatures for as long as our history existed. However, mostly, Warlocks and Vampires found common grounds as long as we stayed out of their way and off their lands, they left us alone, mostly. We never really had much trouble when Vampire’s moved in nearby, although that was mostly thanks to the coven leaders. They would go a greet new clans, welcome them and come to a peaceful understanding.

That couldn’t be implemented to all, like the Vampires who’d attacked my home. Some couldn’t allow for bygones to be bygones, felt making peace between species was an insult, and felt they ruled over all supernatural creatures.

However, Wolves were the worst. They took no prisoners, nor did they care. Human, Warlock, Vampire, it didn’t matter to them. If they were hungry, and you dared step near a pack’s ground, you may as well serve yourself up on a plate.

I removed the key from my pocket as I approached the old cabin I’d previously fled from. I hadn’t been back here since I escaped Silver Oak.

In my panic, confusion, and grief, I ran into the forest in the wrong direction, and that night, I had run until I couldn’t run anymore. It had taken me almost a year to find the small cabin again. The forest had been far more vast than I’d ever realized.

The sun was setting, and I had to get inside. I knew from before there was a Wolf den just a few miles away from here to the west. I could stay here until I figured out what I would do, but I couldn’t risk being out, while the Wolves prowled, hunting for their next meal.

I went to put the key in the door, however, the key no longer fit, as if something or someone had changed the lock. My eyebrows furrowed together and after a few more attempts, I gave up, waving my hand over the lock and unlocking it with magic.

To my horror, the realization that someone had changed the lock came into reality, someone had been living here.

The double bed that had once been my parents was messy and rumpled, with bedsheets I did not recognize. Two cups were resting on the table in the center of the room, and a dirty plate was in the small metal basin in the small kitchen area.

I studied one of the empty cups to find it was empty, but there was reminiscent of red markings on the insides. Red Wine, perhaps? However, the red didn’t seem the right shade for any wine that I had seen. Although I’d only ever known the two red wines our coven grew and created so, that was not saying much.

I looked around the small room. Whoever had been here before had since left, the cabin was deserted of other people, I was standing in the cozy interior alone. Perhaps they’d moved on, using the cabin for a little shelter, or at least, I’d hoped they’d moved on at least.

I was setting myself down, on my old bunk, when the front door of the cabin flew open, causing me to turn to the door quick enough to create a little whiplash.

My hair stood on end when I saw a woman with long flowing chestnut hair and golden brown eyes stop there looking at me wide-eyed.

With a deep growl, she spoke, “Oi, who the heck are you?!”