WitchCraft

I have multiple times faced the concept that witchcraft and magic were exclusively female powers, even as a purely theoretical idea, if from the black and white views from the catholic church that ruled my school and declared it of demonic origin, or some television re imagined  idea for a show. Personally I never gave it much credit as it seemed too genderized, a historical social construct, it lost even more weight as I grew up and meet more and more people that didn’t fit in the bipolar spectrum of Male-Female genders…

It does however became a lot harder to ignore when you are being pulled by arm by one as you are running from armed man who seem intent on fill you with holes and she keeps defending the two of you with apparent mere flicks of the hand…

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– Yes, I happen to have reason to believe in the existence of male witches… at least one. should I call it a mage or wiz…

– Shut it, mages are street performers and wizards are fairytales! – the hard faced brunette interrupted me harshly.

– Not strictly saying, Yolanda… there have been records of this so called wizards. Merlin, for certain, possibly the Dee fellow, the big difference however, youngster, is that they didn’t posses the power. Energy didn’t course through their veins. With the proper time, knowledge and rituals any could muster some power, some more than others… Dr Dee claimed his knowledge came directly from the angels. I could claim the same, it doesn’t make it so. That is all you think you know, what you believe exists. The Coven holds the true power, we have magic woven in our beings. – Ulla was a powerful sorceress, she wasn’t young, but she was pretty beyond her years, with a bright red full head of hair, interwoven with traces of bright grey, considering the stories about the extended youth of witches I wouldn’t pretend to be able to tell her age, but the knowledge others claimed her to have was staggering enough.

– I’m sorry Ulla, I though I sensed something in the boy, I…

– Worry not my child, your abilities are still developing, they will fluctuate at times, it’s to be expected. Now let’s erase this one’s memories of this encounter and get ourselves to a safer place, the keeper of Alexia’s wants to show you something Morgana

– Oi! There will be no erasing or reshaping of my mind. – I imposed myself as I stepped backwards – Morgana said you would want to talk, I gotta say safe passage felt pretty much part of that deal!

– No one is harming you, but we can’t allow for a…

– Twenty three is plenty enough to stop being called a boy, I’m not judging any of you by age, can we get on with mutual respect? – I probably shouldn’t have interrupted the most powerful person in the room as we began discussing my rights to leave this place with a fully functioning brain, but it had gotten to me.

– Mutual respect! Have you any idea of what a JOKE that is coming from a “man”? – I felt the insult in that word, not previously present when they were calling me boy. There was despise in her tone.

– Young man, this conversation is pointless – with a flicker of her fist she seemed to bind me to the wall behind me – you won’t remember my arguments and I won’t change my mind either way, – she pulled a fancy dagger from an unseen pocket and stepped towards me – and there’s nothing you can say that will change that.

I was petrified in place, unable to release the scream of dread that was building up in my throat, unsure if by fear or the spell. As she approached she touched the tip of the blade to my temple and uttered a phrase, the two companions in chorus. I closed my eyes expecting the worse, trying to take solace in forgetting whatever painful process was looming. And than:

– What kind of Black Magic is this!?

 

 

 

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The Big Bad Wolf and the Red Riding Hood

He went after her, following her every move, every flap of her cape, eyes locked at the red of her head.

Foolish was the wolf, that actually believed himself to be, even for a moment, the hunter, when all in all he was only following after a bait, oblivious to the trap ahead of him.

She led him thought the forest, disappearing from his view from time to time, but, as he ran on after her, he would always catch a glimpse of her cape turning on this or that tree, under a trunk or over a pile of rocks. And so he would keep up his hunt.

At some point thou, she scaped his tracking, and for a few minutes he found no trace of her… untill he got to an opening in the woods, filled with a house. The door open, and the riding hood hanging inside.

The wolf walks in, happy with himself at his opportunity, smirking and smiling. “The little one knows nothing of whats coming for her.” the wolf thought.

. . .

She was thinking the same thing.

. . .

He attaked.

She fought back.

You’ve been recruited!

As a Lord, small one as I might be, I sounded a call to banners. My lands might be small. My influence might be mild. But my heart is big and the quest is of great importance!

There will always be plenty to see.

No matter which side leave this field victorious, war is war, and the loss will be felt. But once this war became unavoidable, it became a doubt of who’s land will burn, who’s wives will mourn and who’s sons will awake orfans in the morning.

We have talked.

We negociated.

But our rights and our desires have been ignored.

The needs of our people have been neglected.

And So We Ride!

We ride for our families! We ride for our land! We ride for the right to live and to love and to be happy! We ride together, we ride as one. I wont ask any of you to do it FOR me, BUT TO RIDE BY MY SIDE!

WE RIDE FOR OURSELVES! FOR THE ICY LANDS!