The Witch hunt
886 Words
Time moved differently when you were plotting in the shadows of a queen.
Weeks had passed since Elysia’s wrath burned through Kieran and Elias’ loyalty was sealed with a kiss. Ivy had watched quietly, learning more from Elysia’s chaos than her lessons in magic. But somewhere deep in Ivy’s heart—a flicker of rebellion was lit.
She was still loyal.
She still admired Elysia, feared her, even loved her in a strange, twisted way.
But she would not become her.
So Ivy made a choice.
In silence, in secrecy, she began building something that had never existed before.
A Hexlocator—a magical device constructed from lunar crystals, witch ash, and old blood sigils—designed to detect dormant or active magical bloodlines around the world. Elysia wanted her to recruit witches through fear and dominance.
But Ivy?
She wanted to find witches like herself. Broken. Lost. Unaware of what they could become. And give them hope, not chains.
So she did it her own way.
Every night, in the solitude of an old attic she'd claimed as her own, Ivy lit candles and drew incantation circles across the floors. She whispered forbidden spells, poured over ancient books scavenged from what remained of the Salvatore archives.
She never told Elysia. She didn’t need to.
This wasn’t betrayal. It was survival.
When the Hexlocator finally pulsed with violet light, pointing to a location hidden so deep it bent space itself, Ivy knew she’d found someone dangerous. Someone powerful. Someone like her.
---
The location was in the Alps—somewhere cloaked under layers of protective enchantments so old, they almost smelled of ancient vampire blood and crumbled witch covens.
Only Ivy’s growing power had allowed her to find it.
The place looked like a fortress carved into the mountainside, unreachable by mortal means.
As Ivy stepped up to the guarded gate, the magic in the air thickened. Her breath caught slightly from the pressure—it wasn’t just a barrier.
It was a warning.
“State your name,” one of the armored guards grunted.
“Ivy Miller,” she replied coolly. “I’m here for the girl inside.”
“She’s not receiving visitors,” the other barked, raising his hand.
“I wasn’t asking.”
Before they could react, Ivy raised her hands and muttered an incantation under her breath.
The guards dropped instantly—stunned into unconsciousness, not dead.
“I’m not Elysia,” she whispered as she stepped over them. “I don’t kill just because I can.”
---
The cell was hidden behind enchanted stone and iron sigils, but Ivy cracked the layers open like she was peeling an orange.
Inside was a girl—fifteen, maybe.
Wild eyes. Tangled dark curls. Barefoot and dressed in worn clothes that looked scorched in places.
She turned sharply as Ivy entered, her fingers already glowing with a pulsing red energy.
“You shouldn’t be here,” the girl growled. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Ivy held up a hand calmly. “I’m not here to fight.”
Agatha didn’t wait.
Magic surged forward, raw and violent, like a hurricane made of lightning.
Ivy’s forcefield snapped into place just in time—her spell whispered in a breath. The magical attack shattered like waves against a cliff.
Agatha staggered back in shock.
“How did you do that?” she demanded, eyes narrowing with curiosity.
Ivy smirked, lowering her hand. “If you want to learn, come with me.”
Agatha hesitated, her hands twitching. “Why would I trust you?”
“Because I’m the only one who didn’t try to lock you in a cage.”
Silence stretched between them—charged and uncertain.
Then Ivy stepped closer and whispered the teleportation spell.
The world bent around them—and in a flash, they were gone.
---
They landed in the attic Ivy had claimed as her haven.
Candles flickered.
Sigils glowed.
The air here felt alive with potential.
Agatha stared, stunned. “This is where you live?”
Ivy walked to the center of the room, setting down her satchel and the Hexlocator, which still glowed faintly.
“I study. I build. I learn,” Ivy said. “And now, I teach.”
Agatha crossed her arms, guarded but intrigued. “What’s the catch?”
Ivy smiled "Smart one aren't you ,” Ivy said, her voice soft but firm. “Just one catch.”
Agatha tilted her head.
“You do whatever I tell you, in return I'll protect you and teach you. We're going to make a coven. We have bigger fish to fry, and I'm not the one you answer to.” Ivy smirked as she thought about Elysia.
For a moment, Agatha didn’t answer. Her fingers twitched with restrained magic. Her eyes flicked to the glowing runes on the floor.
Then slowly, she nodded.
“Okay,” she said. “But if you lie to me—”
“I won’t,” Ivy said simply. "Sleep wherever you want we have a long day tomorrow."
Agatha wanted to ask who she answered to but Ivy was already meditating so she just slept on the couch.
And for the first time in years, Agatha wasn’t confined.
And Ivy wasn’t alone in her quiet rebellion.
- Writer
