THE DROWNED WITCH

CHAPTER ONE. Emily rose slowly from the surface of the lake, her body trembling as cold water streamed down her pale whitish skin. The lake, known among witches as The Lake of Eternal Silence, glimmered under the silver glow of the evening moon. It was said that no sound made upon its surface ever echoed , an its water never moved , no scream ever carried beyond its shores. For Emily, it had been a frightening prison. She staggered forward, her breath shallow, her limbs heavy with exhaustion. Four hundred years had passed since she had last felt solid ground beneath her feet. Four centuries of punishment, loneliness, living with strange water creatures, and regret—each year heavier than the last. The water behind her rippled briefly, then stilled, as if sealing away her suffering forever. Emily had been trapped there by the wicked witch—Queen Anora herself , known as Evil itself. Her crime had not been murder, betrayal, or treason. It had been love . Among witches, love for mortals was the gravest taboo. Witches were taught from their earliest days that romantic attachment to mortals weakened magic, clouded judgment, and threatened the sacred balance between realms. To love a mortal was to abandon immortality in spirit, if not in body. Yet Emily, young and curious at the time, had dared to feel what was forbidden. And for that, Queen Anora had shown no mercy. The memories came rushing back as Emily stepped away from the lake, her bare feet sinking into the lonely earth. She remembered the day everything had begun—four hundred years ago—when she had been summoned to the royal coven. Queen Anora had sat upon her obsidian throne, her presence filling the chamber like a dark mist . She was the oldest witch in existence, her power so ancient that even time itself seemed to bend around her. Her long silver hair flowed like mist, and her eyes burned with a cruel intelligence that saw through lies and souls alike. Emily, then a loyal witch of remarkable potential, had knelt before her. “There is a wizard,” Queen Anora had said, her voice cold and commanding. “His name is Thaddeus.” At the mention of that name, the coven had murmured. Thaddeus was powerful—too powerful—and dangerously independent. “He was sent to the mortal realm,” the queen continued, “on a mission to wipe out a cursed family whose bloodline threatened our kingdom. But he disobeyed. He refused to return.” Emily had raised her eyes cautiously. “Why, my queen?” “Because,” Anora replied, lips curling into a smile devoid of warmth, “he has grown attached to the mortal world , which is not meant to be.” That word again—attached. Emily had been given fifty days. Fifty days to descend into the mortal realm, locate Thaddeus, and bring him back—by force if necessary. Failure, Queen Anora warned, would not be forgiven. It was a mission Emily accepted without protest. At the time, she still believed obedience was safety. Now, centuries later, she wondered how blind she had been. As Emily made her way toward her coven, the familiar outlines of twisted trees and floating lanterns emerged from the cloudy mist. Her loyal servants, Rihanna and Toby, were already waiting. They had never abandoned her, not even when her name became one whispered with caution and pity. Rihanna, graceful and sharp-eyed, rushed forward first. Her face lit up with relief as she saw Emily alive and free at last. “You survived,” she whispered, as if afraid the night might hear. Toby followed closely behind, sturdier and quieter, his expression solemn but warm. “The lake didn’t break you,” he said. “I knew it wouldn’t.” Emily managed a weak smile. “It tried.” Without wasting time, they led her into the coven. The air there was thick with magic, humming softly like a living thing. Rihanna reached into a velvet pouch and brought out a magic comb shaped like a human heart. It pulsed faintly, glowing with enchantment. “This will restore you,” Rihanna said gently. She brushed Emily’s hair slowly, carefully. With each stroke, the knots and tangles—formed over centuries of neglect—vanished. Her dull, lifeless hair transformed, becoming soft, glossy, and smooth like that of a newborn child untouched by sorrow. Toby uncorked a small crystal bottle and poured a shiny lotion into his palms. As he rubbed it into Emily’s skin, the scars of time faded. Her rough, aged skin softened, becoming smooth and youthful once more. Strength flowed back into her veins, and she stood taller, steadier. They dressed her in a golden robe with silver lining that glowed like starlight. A pair of black heels completed the transformation, lending her a regal air she had long forgotten. Emily looked into the mirror and barely recognized herself—not as the broken witch of the lake, but as the powerful being she once was. “You look like a queen,” Rihanna said. Emily shook her head softly. “No. Just a witch with unfinished business.” As midnight approached, the coven grew quiet. The hour when realms thinned. The hour when journeys began. Emily gathered her tools: her magic wand, wornout but forever faithful; her scrying mirror, clouded with visions yet to come; and her crystal ball, glowing with untold future mysteries. Each object carried memories—of choices made, of paths taken and abandoned. At the final stroke of twelve, the air split open before her, revealing a swirling gateway to the mortal realm. Emily paused at its end . Four hundred years ago, she had entered that realm as a servant of Queen Anora. This time, she stepped forward as something else entirely—not just on a mission, but on a journey toward truth, redemption, and perhaps a fate she could no longer escape. With one last breath, Emily crossed the threshold. And the journey began.