The Shadow Stirs
She had found a spell. The spell.
Deep in the Caves of Matamoe in the barren land of Southeil, the Shadow Witch smiled. Her gnarled, bony finger tapped the worn parchment in her tome of dark magick.
For years Magdelana Katipo had searched the ancient text for a way to breach the mantle of magickal Mist that protected her enemies to the north. Finally, she had the answer.
The simplicity of the solution pleased her and her wicked mind spun with possibilities. She memorized the list of ingredients and slipped out of her hidden chamber to secretly collect what she needed.
She could trust no one with her plan.
Magdelana returned to the room and scrutinized the instructions from the Book of Shadow. She placed the herbs in her mortar one at a time and ground each ingredient in a counterclockwise pattern with the stained pestle in her right hand. Once the herbs and oils had been crushed to the proper consistency, she poured them into a small pouch.
The High Priestess of the Shadow Coven of Southeil placed the pouch directly on her personal altar, held her gleaming sapphire wand over the precious blend, and chanted the time-faded karakia from the page.
My gift you will receive,
Your mind you will leave.
My thoughts will fill your head,
My actions become yours instead.
This hex bag, our one true link,
Into my power you deeply sink.
You are the vessel, I am the heart.
No magick word can tear us apart.
You may speak no word to reveal my ploy,
Or your very soul I will destroy.
By my will, so it will be.
Magdelana repeated the spell twice more, tightened the bag, and tied three knots in each end of the drawstring. She braided the strands together and tied three more knots. Nine knots to bind the spell.
When the moon rose high in the night sky she would use her knowledge of creature magick to find proper transport for her hex.
The people of Aotearoa would soon know the power of the Shadow Witch.
