#hex old world witchery

[asphodel-flowers]

rocks 🪨 ✨

so going clockwise from the top right. the ones on the right, Mom got me off temu as part of my birthday present months ago. the ones on the left, I got last night along with the key. and then there's dice I got forever ago to the left of that, and my blue bag of runes in the background.

can't remember what the red is. green looks like jade, purple is amethyst, brown I assume is tiger's eye, and two small smooth pieces of quartz. it's missing lapis lazuli that threw itself down the drain the first night I shadowed a tour at the shop/ company I'm gonna be working with.

the rest on the left I got last night at a local witchy store. well, they appear to have expanded here to New Orleans but got their start in Salem? I went into Omens but apparently they're the sister store to Hex: Old World Witchery. (old world they say, but have voodoo stuff on their shops, smh. xP)

there's a hunk of quartz there at the bottom that's the clearest, and to the left of it is opalite. the black is supposedly jet and the purple with green specks is grape agate?

both the brown one, and the clear one with orange, were in the bin that said aragonite

the bright green with the swirls is malachite and the green with white is apparently tree agate

some more pictures from different angles. the picture with the black background is from last night right after I'd gotten them because that's my skirt, lol

so according to the labels in the shop I got them from:

opalite: to work on self-love, improve mood, & attract business

jet: for divination & "to invoke the Great Goddess"

grape agate: prophetic dreams, visions, & intense meditation

aragonite: to draw upon the energies of "the Earth Goddess"

tree agate: to restore energy, relax, & connect deeply with nature

malachite: for love, balance, guarding children, & protection

Idk how I feel about those descriptions but they definitely jumped out at/ called to me, and for similar feelings to what the description said even if the descriptions didn't feel or seem quite completely the most accurate.

[wallacejwriting]

Starside [Starmont meets Farside]

A sort of rundown to what I'm thinking and working on

Jules Locke is a 15 year old kid living on a Fringe farm to the south of the city of Tairkyda, constantly in the shadow of the massive Wall that cuts off the other side - the Blighted side - of the island from the inhabited half.

Less than a week before the new year at Starmont College begins, Jules Awakens magic they shouldn't have when they find and bond a dragon egg that falls from a passing ship in the sky.

The witches of Tairkyda have ways of knowing when a new with Awakens, via the witchglasses at the centre of the innermost ring of Tairkyda's city proper. Because of this, Jules has no way of hiding.

Now a sproutling witch, Jules must attend Starmont to learn to control their magic, and their bond with their new dragon, or else risk losing their dragon egg, their freedom, and any chance of ever going home again.

But the innermost ring of Tairkyda is an elitest bunch. Prejudices run deep amidst the rich and powerful. And the mystery of how Jules has magic when they shouldn't - when no one outside the elite should - leaves Jules scrutinized at every opportunity.

Not that they're the only non-highborn witch. In fact, the other two are also dragon riders - Gwyn Vaughan, commander of the dragonguard; and Cináed, a fourth year student and Dustwitch. Both are underborn, meaning they are from Underside.

Rakesh, a professor at the school, is assigned to help Jules get ready for Starmont by the headmistress. When he brings Jules to Starmont early, at her request, Jules learns that the pirate noticed the egg is missing and wants their money.

Jules has no money, so the school pays for the egg, whose price has been inflated greatly due to being already bonded and unable to separate from Jules without conflict and consequence. Jules is assigned to work in the school and pay off the price of the egg while they are a student, and told they must pay off the full price to own their dragon as other witches do.

Less money. More problems. Always money problems.

Cináed also works in the school, as they were a servant before they were a witch, and this is a big part of how they bond.

Jules also meets and is roommates with Wren Hashimoto and Sabine Bellerose. And Jules quickly realizes that there's something going on with Sabine - she's hexed. Cursed. Hurting. And the more Jules learns about how and why - and about the kind of man her father, the one who did this, is - the more they realize they have to save Sabine. Her freedom is gone. Her voice, taken. Her life put on a timer. And if Jules stands aside and lets someone die when they could help?

Well, how the hell can they call themself a friend? Let alone a future dragon rider?

But things are far from easy. All the other sproutlings have several years of practice on Jules, as well as years of training and immersion in witchery and witch culture as a result of their upbringing. Not to mention, being able to draw perfect circles is considered the first skill a witch should learn.

And Jules hasn't. Not by a long shot.

But there's some stuff that comes easy to them, and that combination entangles them with Wren as they help each other with classes, with homework, and with learning more about each other and where they come from.

Drawing circles is still hard though.

And so is dealing with plenty of bigoted teachers, prejudiced students, and social norms that seem out to get them. And Jules has never been good with people, or social norms, to begin with. Learning an entire new set will be impossible without instructions.

And this isn't even getting into the fact that part of the island is Blighted, which means infected with a fungus that is stopped only by stone and fire. This creates monsters, freaky infected plants, and a lot lot more.

Anyway yeah. That's what I got so far. That's what I've been doing while not here. Combining worlds.

[ztremx]

One of our brooms made it into Hocus Pocus 2.

DISNEY SUCKS, IMHO.  but the scene from the trailer was filmed inside HEX ‘Old World Witchery’ in New Orleans.  Hex has carried our brooms for many years.

[showamagicalgirls]

I bought this postcard during my recent trip to New Orleans. Although it’s not exactly a Showa era magical girl, it reminds me of the m very much.

Apparently it’s an original image from the store where I got it — HEX Old World Witchery — but I wonder what era of Americana it is referencing.

[breelandwalker]

Witchcraft Books by Bree NicGarran

Grovedaughter Witchery: Practical Spellcraft

For the witch whose town is devoid of occult shops and covens, learning the craft can be a daunting task indeed. Fortunately, there are plenty of ways for a budding practitioner to make a start.

Stroll down the forest path with Bree NicGarran, author of The Sisters Grimmoire, and discover the surprising ways you can practice your craft with commonplace items from the supermarket and the craft store. Build a travel kit for on-the-go magic. Create your own spells from scratch with a step-by-step guide. Learn how to make your own witch webs and magical powders. Uncover the secrets of walnut charms and witchballs and much, much more. Every page carries tricks of the trade and homegrown charms from the files of the Grovedaughter herself.

From besoms to banishings to a bit of good advice, Grovedaughter Witchery is the ideal book for any witch with an inclination toward a practical, no-frills approach to witchcraft.

The Sisters Grimmoire: Spells & Charms For Your Happily Ever After

Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, Who’s the cleverest witch of them all?

With the spells in this book, it just might be you!

Inspired by the well-known works of The Brothers Grimm, this volume boasts over sixty original spells lovingly crafted from favorite fairy tales, along with helpful spellcrafting instructions and several indices to aid you in your journey. All of this is wrapped up with useful chapter forewords discussing the various themes within the tales, some insight into the creative process, and a bit of discussion on ethics and the usage of magic.

Whether you’re ready to yell “All Heads Off But Mine,” looking to turn your luck around with some Buried Coins, or just wanting to show the world What Big Teeth you have, there is sure to be a spell within these pages that is exactly what you’ve been looking for.

After all, who couldn’t use a bit of Happily Ever After?

Pestlework: A Book of Magical Powders & Oils

From the author of Grovedaughter Witchery comes a volume of potions and powders for all occasions, suitable to enhance the craft of any practitioner.

Old standards like Banishing Powder and Blessing Oil meet new classics like Dream Dust and Stargazer Wishing Oil. Need to rid your house of a troublesome spirit? Try a sprinkle of Ghost-Be-Gone Powder. Looking for a way to get your zest back after spellwork? Brim With Vim Vitality Oil might be just the thing. Over 200 original formulae await you within these pages, along with helpful hints, safety tips, and detailed instructions for creating your own magical powders and oils.

Collected for the first time in a single volume, these recipes are the product of twelve years of experience and much experimentation. While magic is never a guarantor of success, the potions within these pages just might give your spells the edge you need.

Visit my Amazon Author Page for listings and book reviews! You can also visit the Willow Wings Witch Shop to order books and other witchy goodies directly from me. 

Make sure you check out my podcast, Hex Positive, on your favorite podcatcher app! (Part of the Nerd and Tie Podcast Network.)

If you own a shop and would like to carry my titles, please contact me at BreeNicGarran@gmail.com for wholesale information.

[lemonbalmandrosemary]

To-Read List

I'm limiting this to books I actively want to read, rather than what's on my shelves, because those are two very different animals. (Yay book hoarding from my early days.) * = books I own.

Advanced Magick for Beginners - Alan Chapman

*Anatomy of a Witch: A Map to the Magical Body - Laura Tempest Zakroff

*Becoming Dangerous: Witchy Femmes, Queer Conjurers, and Magical Rebels - Katie West & Jasmine Elliott

*Besom, Stang, & Sword: A Guide to Traditional Witchcraft, the Six-Fold Path, & the Hidden Landscape - Christopher Orapello & Tara-Love Maguire

*The Black Toad: West Country Witchcraft and Magic - Gemma Gary

*The Book of English Magic - Philip Carr-Gomm

Bringing Race to the Table: Exploring Racism in the Pagan Community - Crystal Blanton

The British Book of Spells & Charms - Graham King

Casting a Queer Circle: Non-Binary Witchcraft - Thista Minai

Cecil Williamson's Book of Witchcraft: A Grimoire of the Museum of Witchcraft - Steve Patterson

The City is a Labyrinth: A Walking Guide for Urban Animists - Sarah Kate Istra Winter

*City Magick: Urban Rituals, Spells, and Shamanism - Christopher Penczak

City Witchery: Accessible Rituals, Practices & Prompts for Conjuring and Creating in a Magical Metropolis - Lisa Marie Basile

*Condensed Chaos: An Introduction to Chaos Magic - Phil Hine

Craft of the Untamed: An Inspired Vision of Traditional Witchcraft - Nicholaj de Mattos Frisvold

*Creating Magical Entities - David Michael Cunningham

The Crooked Path: An Introduction to Traditional Witchcraft - Kelden

*Curses, Hexes, and Crossing: A Magician's Guide to Execration Magic - S. Connolly

The Dabbler's Guide to Witchcraft: Seeking an Intentional Magical Path - Fire Lyte

A Deed Without a Name: Unearthing the Legacy of Traditional Witchcraft - Lee Morgan

Deep Liberation: Shamanic Teachings for Reclaiming Wholeness in a Culture of Trauma - Langston Kahn

*DIY Magic: A Strange and Whimsical Guide to Creativity - Anthony Alvarado

The Door to Witchcraft: A New Witch's Guide to History, Traditions, and Modern-Day Spells - Tonya A. Brown

*Drawing Down the Moon: Witches, Druids, Goddess-Worshippers, and Other Pagans in America - Margot Adler

Enchantments: A Modern Witch's Guide to Self-Possession - Mya Spalter

*Everyday Magic: Spells & Rituals for Modern Living - Dorothy Morrison

*Evolutionary Witchcraft - T. Thorn Coyle

Fifty Years in the Feri Tradition - Cora Anderson

The Flame in the Cauldron: A Book of Old-Style Witchery - Orion Foxwood

*Folk Witchcraft: A Guide to Lore, Land, and the Familiar Spirit for the Solitary Practitioner - Roger J. Horne

*Grovedaughter Witchery: Practical Spellcraft - Bree NicGarran

*Hedgewitch Book of Days: Spells, Rituals, and Recipes for the Magical Year - Mandy Mitchell

*Honoring Your Ancestors: A Guide to Ancestral Veneration - Mallorie Vaudoise

The House Witch: Your Complete Guide to Creating a Magical Space with Rituals and Spells for Hearth and Home - Arin Murphy-Hiscock

It's Witchcraft: A Beginner's Guide to Secular and Non-secular Witchcraft - Jamie Weaver

Light Magic for Dark Times: More than 100 Spells, Rituals, and Practices for Coping in a Crisis - Lisa Marie Basile

*Magic for the Resistance: Rituals and Spells for Change - Michael M. Hughes

Magic Power Language Symbol: A Magician's Exploration of Linguistics - Patrick Dunn

Magic When You Need It: 150 Spells You Can't Live Without - Judika Illes

Magical Power for Beginners: How to Raise & Send Energy for Spells that Work - Deborah Lipp

*Making Magic: Weaving Together the Everyday and the Extraordinary - Briana Saussy

*The Master Book of Herbalism - Paul V. Beyerl

*Mastering Witchcraft: A Practical Guide for Witches, Warlocks, and Covens - Paul Huson

*Mrs. B's Guide to Household Witchery: Everyday Magic, Spells, and Recipes - Kris Bradley

A Mystical Practical Guide to Magic: Instructions for Seekers, Witches & Other Spiritual Misfits - Aliza Einhorn

The New Aradia: A Witch's Handbook to Magical Resistance - Laura Tempest Zakroff

New World Witchery: A Trove of North American Folk Magic - Cory Thomas Hutcheson

Of Chalk & Flint: A Way of Norfolk Magic - Val Thomas

A Practical Guide for Witches: Spells, Rituals, and Magic for an Enchanted Life - Ylva Mara Radziszewski

*Practical Protection Magick: Guarding & Reclaiming Your Power - Ellen Dugan

Protection & Reversal Magick: A Witch's Defense Manual - Jason Miller

Queer Magic: Power Beyond Boundaries - Lee Harrington

Queer Magic: LGBT+ Spirituality and Culture from Around the World - Tomas Prower

*Queering Your Craft: Witchcraft from the Margins - Cassandra Snow

*Rebel Witch: Carve the Craft that's Your Alone - Kelly-Ann Maddox

Silent as the Trees: Devonshire Witchcraft, Folklore, & Magic - Gemma Gary

*Southern Cunning: Folkloric Witchcraft in the American South - Aaron Oberon

Spellcrafting: Strengthen the Power of Your Craft by Creating and Casting You Own Unique Spells - Arin Murphy-Hiscock

Tarot for Troubled Times: Confront Your Shadow, Heal Your Self, Transform the World - Shaheen Miro & Theresa Reed

*Three Books of Occult Philosophy - Cornelius Agrippa

The Tradition of Household Spirits: Ancestral Lore and Practices - Claude Lecouteux

*Traditional Witchcraft: A Cornish Book of Ways - Gemma Gary

Treading the Mill: Practical Craft Working in Modern Traditional Witchcraft - Nigel G. Pearson

Urban Magick: A Guide for the City Witch - Diana Rajchel

Waking the Witch: Reflections on Women, Magic, and Power - Pam Grossman

Walking the Tides: Seasonal Magical Rhythms and Lore - Nigel G. Pearson

*Weave the Liminal: Living Modern Traditional Witchcraft - Laura Tempest Zakroff

A Witch's Guide to Wildcraft: Using Common Plants to Create Uncommon Magic - J.D. Walker

*A Witch's Natural History - Giles Watson

*The Witch: A History of Fear, from Ancient Times to the Present - Ronald Hutton

The Witch's Book of Self-Care: Magical Ways to Pamper, Soothe, and Care for Your Body and Spirit - Arin Murphy-Hiscock

The Witch's Cauldron: The Craft, Lore, & Magick of Ritual Vessels - Laura Tempest Zakroff

The Witch's Path: Advancing Your Craft at Every Level - Thorn Mooney

Witchcraft Activism: A Toolkit for Magical Resistance - David Salisbury

Witchcraft Medicine: Healing Arts, Shamanic Practices, and Forbidden Plants - Claudia Muller-Ebeling

Witchery: Embrace the Witch - Juliet Diaz

The Witches' Ointment: the Secret History of Psychedelic Magic - Thomas Hatsis

Witches of America - Alex Mars

[madamehearthwitch]

Hi! Ive been asking this question to a few people and wanted your opinion! What's the difference between a cottage witch and a hearth witch? I know they both tend to encompass green, kitchen and household witchery but whats the defining factor that separates the terms? Or what's your opinion on the matter?

This is a good question that doesn’t have an official answer! For some, those terms are used completely interchangeably and that’s entirely okay. Because witchcraft is about making your own path. Unless you belong to a specific religion, a lot of things are up to you (and of course always being mindful not to be appropriating!).

So, what follows is entirely my own reasoning and rambling on the topic and as it applies only to me. And is not meant in any way to invalidate someone else’s reasonings and ramblings. I say this not to protect myself from backlash, but as a reminder that everyone’s thoughts are valid! Mostly, this is going to be my thoughts on what a hearth witch is, as that’s what I’ve spent most of my life being and doing!

When I think about a cottage witch, I think a little more about a house. A specifically designed house, if you know what I mean? The “cottage in the woods” aesthetic.

Images like this immediately spring to mind. Cottage witchcraft is intrinsically tied in my mind with the cottagecore aesthetic. And listen, I am Here. For. It. I love this kind of aesthetic, I incorporate it in my own personal style, in my life, etc. But I also recognize that it’s idealized and likely not accessible to me (in this lifetime anyway).

Hearth witch too brings up imagery. Particularly if you’re aware of what a hearth is.

The hearth, the heart of the old home. Warm welcoming fire, cozy. There is certainly overlap with cottagecore, I mean the aesthetic of a warm fire with cozy couches and blankets has a strong pull! It always makes me want to grab a good book, something/someone to cuddle, and a cuppa.

The hearth for a long time was where food was made. It was the stove. And so there’s a lot of overlap into kitchen witchery. Food has always brought people together. A feast cooked on a fire, drawing people in from the cold to warm their bones.

So I think when a lot of people think of hearth witchery they think of little cottages, that rustic farmhouse, off in the woods vibe, with the ever present smell of fresh baked bread and so much good food. Truthfully, that was my initial draw to the concept of hearthcraft. I love cooking and baking, I love that aesthetic. It lined up with the aspirations I already had for myself.

But, of course, the longer I’ve been practicing, with no guide or sacred text, the more I’ve had to dig into it on my own. I’ve had to peel away at it to find the stuff underneath. When life circumstances meant my house was a rental that at times suggested hints of hoarders instead of cozy calm. When chronic illnesses, financial limitations, and depression meant that there wasn’t a lot of homecooked feasting going on. 

Was I still a hearth witch then?

I was. Because being a hearth witch has absolutely no dependency on your house or your ability to cook or bake. (you also have no requirement to be a practitioner of herbal medicine, that is a medical profession and entirely unrelated to witchcraft!)

Hearthcraft is not about the fire or food. It’s about the welcome.

Hearthcraft is about making space for people to be safe and welcome and loved and validated. This can happen anywhere, because it’s not about the aesthetic, it’s not about the food, or cozy blankets. Those can be methods, tools used... but they aren’t the heart of it. It’s about meeting needs, and accepting people where they’re at.

This doesn’t have to mean a meal you labored over all day. It can be picking up a person’s favorite coffee and dropping it off at their work. Sharing a meme that made you think of them. Texting them randomly to check in on them. Letting them rant and scream and rage and cry, validating their feelings.

It’s also about opposing bigots. Taking a stand against racism. Educating yourself to be a better ally. Donating time or money to causes that work to make marginalized people safe. Making your space: whether that’s online spaces you occupy, your neighborhood, your work, your house, any space you exist, safe by making it UNSAFE for racists, bigots, sexists, etc. When you give an inch to people who hold that kind of hate in their life... you are inherently making your space unsafe for those they hate. There’s no compromise, no middle ground. A hearth cannot welcome the oppressed as long as it welcomes those who seek to oppress them.

And so as you walk the path of hearthcraft, unfolding the layers and digging in, taking hold of what it means to have a welcoming hearth, you may well find yourself diving into activism. Because once you get yourself in hand, you realize that it’s time to start working on the rest of the world! And just like hearth witchery, this doesn’t mean it has to be the ideal. Protests every weekend, getting arrested, tearing down statues. That’s all AWESOME work, and I applaud people who are able to do that. But it can also mean voting, working phone banks, writing letters to your governmental leaders.

These things are all naturally within the domain of hearthcraft. Because they are about being welcoming. I will admit, the irish polytheist concept of hospitality had a lot of influence on my thoughts on this. Hearthcraft IS hospitality. True, deep, meaningful hospitality.

Something else you might have noticed? There’s no mention of magic in my hearthcraft practice. No spells. 

I have often said I am the most skeptical, disbelieving witch I’ve ever met. My hearthcraft practice is witchcraft. I firmly believe that. But it also isn’t inherently magical. And in this case, I am referring to magic as spell work. Because being a warm, welcoming person is super fucking magical. You ARE magic. Sure, one can use magic and spells. Hexes, or charms. But you don’t have to. 

Living as a hearthwitch means living your magic.

I hope my early morning ramblings have answered your question! This is a topic I love thinking and talking about, so anyone can feel free to slide into my asks with questions or just to talk about it!

[hexandbalances]

Visiting Salem

A few years ago I traveled to Salem for Halloween week. It was a fun trip but not at all the quaint town I had expected. And it was busy. Salem eagerly leans into its witch history and new age spiritualism, sporting many psychic readings and occult shops. To be honest, a large part of my stay was spent walking, shopping, and eating so I didn’t get to visit as quite as many museums as I would have liked. I’ve included a brief review of some of the places I stopped in at while I was there:

Jolie Tea - this was tucked away from the Essex Street pedestrian mall, which made it the perfect place to escape the crowds and blustery wind. They had a selection of seasonal tea blends made in shop. I stopped in several times and took several pounds of tea back as a visiting gift for my aunt. I know it’s an odd compliment but I’m in love with their upholstery and the wallpaper in their restroom. Very limited seating (only 3 tables, one of which only seats two people), but quiet enough at the times I went as to not be a problem.

Count Orlok’s Nightmare Gallery - located on Essex street (the main thoroughfare, foot traffic only) this gallery houses memorabilia and trivia from classic and modern horror cinema. I recommend it if you fancy yourself a horror movie buff. Tickets were $9 for adults and did not need to be purchased in advance. The tour is self guided, walk in any time.

O'Neill’s Pub & Restaurant - honestly I popped in here just intending to use the facilities and get off my feet for a bit but they sell the best pumpkin ale I’ve had to date. The rim is dusted with cinnamon sugar and the head is dusted with a crescent moon of spice. I enthusiastically returned twice a day for the duration of the trip (I was on holiday after all). Their shepherd’s pie was quite good and the waitresses were happy to share insider advice on the best places to park, how to avoid traffic, etc.

Howard Street Cemetery - I visited this cemetery under the impression that the headstone for Giles Corey was there. It wasn’t. There was a memorial at one time but it was toppled by a vandal in 2015. Nevertheless it was a nice, quiet place to stop and take a breather from the crowds.

The Witch House - this is a bit of a misnomer as the house belonged to Jonathan Corwin, one of the judges of the trials. The house is the only structure left in the city that has direct ties to the trials and gives a much more authentic impression of daily life. The tour is self guided but there are volunteers stationed throughout ready to talk about particular items or history of the individuals that resided there. They have a limited capacity they’re required to stick to because of the house’s age so you may be in for a bit of a wait if you catch it during a busy hour. Tickets are about $10 for adults, sold in the gift shop.

Salem Witch Museum - They start the tour by seating visitors in a dark theatre. A recording plays, lighting up vignettes at scheduled points. These vignettes are maybe roughly 9 feet up from where you will be seated, not in sequential order, and cover a full 360° so swiveling your head up and around to find it is necessary. The recording and displays are rather dated; my guess is that they haven’t been changed since the museum’s founding in 1972 (to be honest I was rather expecting Vincent Prince to narrate). After this the group is lead into a small gallery with various placards and pop culture and news printouts. A guide will deliver a brief monologue and then you are free to view the gallery or filter into the gift shop. 

I was rather perturbed that the museum spent effort linking hysteria of the Salem witch trials to McCarthyism (and any other time the American media described a thing as a “witch hunt”) but did not give but the briefest lip service to the misogyny that drove the witch trials and the selection of its victims. Anxiety about attacks from indigenous people were mentioned, but nothing of the political tension of territory and property lines, the disputes between Salem and its many pastors, or the institution of witchcraft as a prosecutable offense in a court of common law by King James. For a museum on the trials it was very light on the details. I found more information available in the gift shop’s surprisingly thorough selection of books. You do have to buy tickets ($21 adults) somewhat in advance for tours that rotate on (I think) 45 minute intervals. 

Peabody Essex Museum - The Peabody Essex Museum is huge and hosts art and history exhibits. When I visited they had an exhibit on Qing Dynasty empresses and had just finished reconstructing brick by brick, tile by tile, a real Qing Dynasty ancestral home imported from Huizhou, China, Salem’s sister city. General admission is $20 for adults.

The Hocus Pocus House - The house used for the exterior of Max and Dani’s in the 1993 movie is a popular stop but it is quite a long walk away from the main tourist hub. I’m sure there are bus tours that would take you there, but like the spendthrift I am, I hoofed it. You can’t enter the house as it is a private residence so taking photos from across the street is the best you can get. The benefit of walking are the scenic views (at last! The quaint town I had imagined!) and meeting a neighbor a few doors down. She had fashioned a hedge from seashells and had delightful watchdog whose name escapes me, save that it was compound and started with “Sir.” I caught her outside gardening - or rather she caught me - and had a chat about the house, tourists, and living in Salem.

Witch City Mall - free multi-story parking! Get there early.

The Coven’s Cottage - Tools, ingredients, books, and more with an exclusive focus on Asatru.

HausWitch Home + Healing - prime example of the self-care industry meets new age spiritualism.

Artemisia Botanicals - Every powdered or raw ingredient you could likely hope for. I saw advertisements for their tea reading service but none was offered when I visited.

Hex Old World Witchery - a sister store to the one in New Orleans. It sells tools, spell ingredients, enchanted candles, jewelry, and some very jaunty pointed hats for ladies and gents.

Life Alive Organic Cafe - Organic vegan cafe. It has the Sanderson Sisters painted as vegetables on their window.

Opus - A fusion restaurant. The food was amazing and the service was great. They have live shows in their basement level. A perfect place for cocktails.

Adriatic Restaurant - Mediterranean and Italian fare. Decent, but pricey.

Caramel Pasteries & Macarons - Easily the best macarons in town. They also sell ice cream and a limited selection of coffee and tea.

The Satanic Temple Headquarters - Baphomet had just returned from his extended stay in Arkansas. The connected Salem Art Gallery and library was also open, and there were some rather striking vine and wicker sculpture work to greet you. And as expected, the people were quite friendly and helpful with recommendations for what else to do and see in Salem. The only downside is that it is a bit of a hike from downtown, but a much shorter one than the Hocus Pocus house. Self-guided tour is $15 for adults.

Street vendors - there are many of these out and about close to Halloween. You can buy whole bags (and whole bags only) of apple cider donuts and other goodies. Not something I normally go for but it was enjoyable. Bring cash.

Additional notes

There are loads of people in costume days before Halloween. If you are shyly deliberating on whether or not to pack a costume, you needn’t think on it further. Do it and have fun, my darling. 

However, I should warn you that if you are one of those that plans to wave a movie replica wand at traffic while shouting bad Latin, I can assure you that you aren’t the first to attempt this and the drivers will not be patient with you. Better to hustle along.

Salem has a noise ordinance that goes into affect at 10 PM on Halloween night. According to the local waitresses most folks don't begin to trickle into town until 10 AM or so that day. 

Essex street is cobbled, please wear comfortable shoes. 

Shop around! There are many shops selling largely the same merchandise. By and large you'll see the same prices but if you've got a sharp enough eye you can save yourself a bit of cash. 

Reserve your stay, wherever it is, AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. I reserved in January and still had to book a room 20 minutes away, which required a car rental. 

Speaking of which, if you're driving in from outside Salem, the lanes merge and disappear frequently and it can be a little stressful. Most of the drive into Salem is single lane through neighborhoods - school bus traffic included.

The temperature in late October is mild but the wind chill coming off the sea makes it feel at least 10°F cooler. And it’s quite windy - wear your hair up. Preferably add a hat lest you show up on someone’s doorstep looking like Sadako, as I did.

[paperpeachy]

may i ask for some vivi headcanons? (ps i adore how you draw her :'))

sure u can (and tysm)!! here’s to our fave shadow girl 💜💖:

⦁ she doesn't like putting her hair up tautly- ponytails, braids, buns, braids are all done sloppily bc she likes how airy it makes her feel 

⦁ vivian's upbringing rlly deprived her of any family/friends/any outside perspective to lean on (besides marilyn, who beldam would eventually deprive her from too), so she'd sink in the shadows of trees and listen in on convos the birds would have. they indirectly educated her on a lot of things abt the world(and herself)/made her feel a part of something. it's the only thing that rlly helped her put up w beldam w/o her spirit breaking. the birds may or may not have been aware of her listening in on them, and would've openly invited her to join in on the convos if she wasn't so anxious abt her presence being known :'(

⦁ bc of that ^ vivian is also SUPER opinionated. it takes the gang a bit of pushing and prodding to actually let that side of her show more, she's still kinda guarded abt expressing herself like that..old habits die hard, but she's working on it !!

⦁ she's mostly comfy in that pastel-goth attire, but she's v open to trying out all kinds of things

⦁ runs a potion/witchery store in twilight town. with the help of a stray black cat she picked up named hex

⦁ despite running her store in twilight town, she actually decided to build a house down in the petal meadows w marilyn. she likes how homey the town feels :')

⦁ this is kinda a given, but as a siren, she def has a rlly pretty voice. her singing in particular kinda takes u into a cathedral...shes fire at choir and a cappella. super holy and eerie sounding mmh

⦁ none of the party members rlly attentively listen to bella's rambling/expedition notes, but vivi welcomes it in open arms- she loves learning!! the two get along super well bc of that

⦁ she holds it to herself to befriend doopliss after everything's done once she see him replace the role of beldam's lighting rod

⦁ yoshi kid joined the party p later on compared to the others, so he has 0 reservations abt her joining and he clings to her super fast bc he's excited to have someone w mad fighting skills (like himself) join the gang. he talks v naturally to her, which makes it heart-warmingly fast for her to fit into the big sis role.

[of-dragons-and-fae]

【 The Esbats 】

An Esbat is usually a Wiccan term to describe any gathering that doesn't take place on a Sabbat, however its also taken the meaning of being celebrations whenever there is a full moon. Most of the names are from Native American tribes, and the names seem to vary between tribes.

January Moon:

Other names.: The Moon after Yule, Start Of The Winter Moon, Ice Moon, Great Spirit Moon, Quiet Moon, Old Moon, New Winter Moon, Windy Moon, Cracking Tree Moon.

Properties.: Renewal, psychic enhancement, working with clarity by asking for guidance for the rest of the year, protection magick of the durability of the home, focusing on the connection of you and any deities, working on personal developments, attracting prosperity for the following years ahead within magick and breaking bad habits, magick that focuses on personal queries such as self care.

February Moon:

Other names.: Quickening Moon, Bone Moon, Hunger Moon, Snow Moon, Trapper's Moon, Opening Buds Moon, Suckerfish Moon, Eagle Moon, First Flower Moon, Midwinter Moon.

Properties.: magick that works for the physical and psychic protection of loved ones, cottage witchery, work with house magick around this time, hone psychic abilities too, giving back to loved ones, meditating on how to further grow in your path and practicing journaling in the cosiness of your home and spring cleaning.

March Moon:

Other names.: Crust Moon, Sap Moon, Worm Moon, Lenten Moon, Crow Moon, Chaste Moon, Storm Moon, Maple Sugar Moon, Snowshoe Breaking Moon, Goose Moon, Spring Moon.

Properties.: Gardening can begin around now, research foraging and plan out any spells that will take longer times or over various days, look into healing magick and connecting to the element of Earth by doing an elemental cleansing, reorganise your altar and spells that focus on bringing safety and happiness.

April Moon:

Other names.: Fish Moon, Sprouting Grass Moon, Frog Moon, Wind Moon, Pink Moon, Sugarbushing Moon, Duck Moon, Thundering Moon, Planting Moon.

Properties.: Looking into balancing energies of the home, reconnecting with the outer world, practicing divination, glamour magick for beauty and affection, working with magick for fertility of your garden and the nature around you, working with your inner child, spells that work with the element of water and brings positivity, peace, self love and appreciation for the beauty of nature around you.

May Moon:

Other names.: Corn Planting Moon, Egg Moon, Milk Moon, Budding Moon, Flower Moon, Snake Moon, Summer Moon, Dancing Moon.

Properties.: This moon would be good for spellwork involving prosperity, fertility of nature's plants and spells that call for passion such as looking for potential careers and different opportunities. You could begin working with the sun's energies and magick relating to fire, such as fire scrying or reading candle wax. For successful harvesting for later in the year, you could do a plant growth spell and spells to make you more productive for the rest of the year.

June Moon:

Other names.: Dyad Moon, Strawberry Moon, Strong Moon, Rose Moon, Hot Moon, Gardening Moon, River Moon, Summer Moon.

Properties.: This Moon is good for spells that call for strength and action, releasing emotions and expanding perspectives. Energies from this Moon would be good for protection magick pertaining to travel and adventuring in the astral. Other spellwork such as ribbon magick for bonding together relationships and firing up romance. its strengthening energies are also good for studying, practicing mindfulness, and celebrations.

July Moon:

Other names.: Mead Moon, Blessing Moon, Thunder Moon, Buck Moon, Hay Moon, Blueberry Moon, Raspberry Moon, Flying Moon, Honey-bee Moon, String Bean Moon.

Properties.: Weather magick that centres around storm magick, and drying out herbs are good ideas for the energies of this Moon. The energies for this Moon are compliant for confidence and drawing in positive prosperous energies. Since weather is connected to the water element, you could bless your garden or home with the element of water.

August Moon:

Other names.: Red Moon, Fruit Moon, Grain Moon, Corn Moon, Sturgeon Moon, Ricing Moon, Blackberry Moon, Dry Moon.

Properties.: This Moon can help you focus on ensuring success and bountiful harvests, gathering magickal allies to help through more difficult spellwork such as faery work, working with draconic guardians and trying to contact a familiar. Connecting to ancestral bonds, spellwork to attempt luck and money to you and using dream work to draw desires to you. Offerings can be made to deities and higher beings for more plentiful harvests.

September Moon:

Other names.: Harvest Moon, Moose Moon, Gourd Moon.

Properties.: Organising your witchcraft, working on journal prompts etc. Focusing on aspects of health and self care within magick. Building friendships and connections with others. Finally harvesting and utilising the plants you've planted previously and expressing gratitude. Use knot magick to make prosperity lucky bags with fresh soil from successful harvests. Practice grounding and meditation while researching tea magick. Start any creative endeavours and see if you can inspire a way to make them useful in your practice.

October Moon:

Other names.: Falling Leaves Moon, Blood Moon, Hunter's Moon, Nut Moon, Fall's Moon.

Properties.: On this Moon, you should focus on heavy protection magick for any future spirit work on this moon or the following moons after this month. its very good for spirit magick, safely using blood magick within spellwork and searching for any spiritual allies as spirit guides. Curses and other left handed magick such as hexes or jinxes could be apt for this time. Since its a liminal time, you could use this time to look into more liminal types of magick.

November Moon:

Other names.: Frosty Moon, Beaver Moon, Mourning Moon, Whitefish Moon, Gratitude Moon,

Properties.: This Moon is good for banishing and cleansing of the home, making sure magickal securities have been set up for the following moon such as wards and shields and psychic protection from malicious spirits. its a good time for divination that works to clarify any questions. Organising anything that you need for the winter incoming.

December Moon:

Other names.: Long Night's Moon, Moon Before Yule, Cold Moon, Storytelling Moon, Dead Winter Moon, Little Spirit Moon.

Properties.: This Moon is a brilliant time for inspiring new hobbies and intentions to influence your craft. Imbue magickal workings with hope and prosperity for the following year. Focus on yourself via meditation, self care and working on grounding. its a good time to focus on the air element and working with this moment of rest. Again, protection is key for this Moon as well. Good time for studying and things that encourage the mind to work, including astrology and cosmic witchery such as lunar magick. Charging and consecrating items for the following year.

By @Of-Dragons-and-Fae. From my grimoire.

[cursebcrn]

Location: Hex: Old World Witchery @bourbonstart​

Though he’d made the trip to the shop every few weeks to restock on supplies since he’d moved to New Orleans and discovered it, his opinions on some of the merchandise had yet to change. “Voodoo dolls? Seriously? Still?” Okay, yeah, he understood that it was part of the game to attract the tourists. Get yourself a genuine voodoo doll from NOLA! And he knew most of them would never know what to do with one, but there was always that chance that someone would stumble upon the answer. “Seems like a ticking time bomb, if you ask me.”

[scotiaeire]

We were all heathens once...

An article on ritual sacrifice and eating of dogs got me thinking. I do that sometimes. Think. Doesn’t always work out well but, meh. Old age allows for some meandering and blethering.

Besides. It’s my blog. I can say what I like, so...

Y’know, christianity is an incredibly young belief system. And for Europeans, it doesn’t actually belong to us. Since I’m not wasting time on a potted history of a belief system I was never raised in nor am particularly interested in, just know that. It doesn’t belong to, stem from, or align with, Europe. Even though they did manage to force a square  peg into a round hole...

There was a time the whole global population was pagan in one form or another and in the timespan of human history, that wasn’t so long ago, yet it *was* a very long time that we were just that..all pagans.

To identify myself if folks ask, I call myself “heathen”, a word that simply once meant “heath dweller”. Now it’s come to mean Scandinavian or Norse paganism. (unless you’re christian, in which case for you it means anyone not christian).

Other folks call themselves “pagan”. *shrug* Same diff. It means we’re attempting to live according to the belief systems of our ancestors, and having to (and in most cases struggling to) adapt their methods of ritual and lifestyle and mindsets for the world we live in today.

It shouldn’t be so hard tbh. Just “pretend” christianity never happened. Most of Europe would still be heathen. It would have evolved over time, with each passing generation and technological advancement, because of course nothing remains static, or it dies.

I’m not going to say I can tell you what the world would be like had the religions stemming from the Middle East not overrun the Western world. Sweden was the last European nation, if I remember rightly, to be forcibly converted to christianity, and still there are pockets of heathenism within the country that have never taken to the conquering faith.

In other nations, such as my own Scotland, a strange amalgamation of traditional Celtic paganism absorbed the church teachings and just got on with it. Thus, the goddess Bride became Saint Brigit, etc, and if you want a prime example of how all that works, take a read at the Carmina Gadelica and other literary collections of folklore up to and including the traditional songs of the Highlanders.

But I was never christian. I was born into a heathen family. It wasn’t a bed of roses. I had the bullying (which included a teacher spitting at me as she walked past) after my parents raged at the headmaster that in no manner was I to be included in morning prayer, lunch grace or assembly prayers.

At the time, it just embarrassed me and made of me an outcast. I hated it. As I grew and found my own heathen path, I was grateful. I see quite a few ex christians struggle with feelings of guilt for “leaving the faith behind” (hint: it was never *your* faith. It’s a foreign one, if you are European or Scots, English, Welsh or Irish) or who can’t quite shake the “sin” shit that was drummed into them.

I see others who, having no roots in heathenry or their native paganism, struggle to find out what they can learn from.

I’m not here to give advice but I’d advise going back to history books, removing the jaundiced eye of any christian authors from the facts if you can, and take it from there. Also, archaeology is your friend here. Folks and fairy tales. Sagas, Eddas, Old Irish Tales. Ancient songs that are traditional to your country. It’s a start. (So aye, I did give advice. Sorry. Ye can take it or leave it, no skin off my nose)

We can’t (sadly) live the lives of our ancestors because, frankly, the powers that be won’t let us. Whereas once, animals would be ritually sacrificed then feasted upon at certain times of year, now the animal cruelty folks’d be visiting your door and you’d be fined or arrested. (Another hint: you get round that by raising meat livestock. Vegetarian heathens, I have no advice for ye’s sorry. Heathenism is an animistic path that doesn’t preclude the consuming of sacred animals. And if you’re actively looking to your ancestors for inspiration, this *is* the type of thing they practiced)

We can’t go to war on our enemies, because governments got the Sole Right to do that, without us having an actual say in who our enemies really are.

Who, today, can *truly* erect a Nidthing Pole (curse pole) on the perimeter of your enemies property without being, again, arrested. Note also the interference of the State in just how pagan or heathen you can actually *be*....

So heathenry has to adapt and change to fit with how we are *allowed* to live these days. And therein lies the shame..the majority allow the minority to dictate how we can live, worship, and be spiritual.

So we do what we can. In quite a few countries, proclaiming yourself as heathen can be actually dangerous. So you keep on the down-low and keep your head down about it and practice quietly, or in secret.

Other places are more tolerant but I  have noticed that even though they are “on the outside”, the reality is that if you are openly heathen you will often encounter a backlash from christians or other faiths not pagan on more than one occasion.

And you’ll undoubtedly be painted as some kind of demon/devil/evil person. And it takes some kind of courage to stand against that, to tell people without it disintegrating into a pub brawl, that you’ve the fucking *right* to be who you are when it comes to your faith, and if that means following the faith of your ancestors, nobody has the right to prevent it.

Just, y’know, when you are following the faith of your ancestors, do them justice, eh? Make them proud of you. Let them see that you’re not defaming their ways.

Despite how my posts might appear, I’m a “live and let live” woman. You leave me be, and I’ll do the same for you.

My own personal mindset is that I don’t “do” eclecticism, simply because I feel it’s a bit of an insult if I’d been, say, performing rites to Thor then throwing in a bit of Dianic witchery (Italian) or the like. “Hello Thor, Big Fella. Meet Diana”. Nah. Not gonna work out there...

I’m no purist either though. If christianity hadn’t been forced on some of our ancestors, heathenry would have adapted, evolved and changed over time. But the *roots* of it would have remained. The pantheons would have been unlikely to have meshed with other pantheons, as did the Celtic and Roman deities in some parts of the British Isles. Chiefly, England.

The practices though, would have changed and so we shouldn’t feel downhearted when the State states (sorry) ye can’t go out and blood eagle your worst enemy or shove that Nidthing Pole up in your annoying neighbour’s back garden. If it’s hexery you’re into there are much more subtle ways, if you’re a woman. If you’re a heathen man, you might want to employ a woman to do the job for ye. Ergi, and all that...

Because times have changed we can sometimes feel adrift, not knowing quite how to *be* heathen in a modern world that increasingly shrinks our freedoms to even live.

But there are ways. The article I shared previously to this post spoke of sacrifice. In pre christian, pre nanny State days, sacrifices were serious matters and serious events. They *meant* something of note.

I have to be honest here, “sacrificing” a bowl of fruit or a bunch of flowers isn’t quite the same. Ye can say what you think about that but it’s not.

Because if you need to sacrifice anything to get a god’s attention, if you’re desperate (been there, done that) then what you give *has* to have meaning, *has* to be hard to give, and *has* to be worthy of that god. Or it means nothing.

No, I’m not advocating animal or human sacrifice. But if the thing you give has little meaning to you (and don’t tell me a bowl of fruit or bunch of flowers means the world to you...) then why should a god listen to you?

Anyway...heathenry was more than the rituals of sacrifice, hexing your enemies and going to war. In domestic life little daily rituals kept the household running smoothly. When the partner of a woman left on a journey, for example, she’d sew charms into his clothing for protection and safe return. The hearth of a home..the firepit or fireplace..has a wealth of rituals surrounding it, probably the most prolific of the domestic magics, perhaps apart from spinning and weaving. Charms to keep your children safe, spells to help older folks thrive, all were taken care of in fine heathen fashion.

So if nothing else, that, at least, we can return to.

[bourbonstreetrpg]

Congratulations! Welcome to New Orleans, CHARLOTTE! Please send in your account within 24 hours and make sure to go through the CHECKLIST. If you need an extension, just let us know. We’re super excited to have you! Danielle Campbell is now taken.

( DANIELLE CAMPBELL. FEMALE, SHE/HER. )  Well I say, I do believe that’s [ CHARLOTTE DAVINE] walking by. Legends say that they are a [ 21] year old [ WITCH ] rumored to be [ SOLO ]. They’re a/an [ SHOP KEEPER @ HEX: OLD WORLD WITCHERY ]. [ INDEPENDENT AND FIERCELY BRAVE, MUSIC THROUGH IPHONE SPEAKERS, HALF EMPTY COFFEE MUGS] make them stand out in town, let’s just hope they aren’t here looking for trouble. ( CHARLIE. 27. CST. SHE/HER. )

[marinette-sky]

Incantation of the Heart

A/N: Hey guys! Its been awhile since I have posted any sort of writing or fanfiction here! I finally finished the first part to this ML magic au, and man let me tell you...this took forEVER! I got stuck on writing about clothing! Can you believe it?? But yeah, hope yall enjoy this!  (also, my ao3 is pamplemousses so check me out if you like what you read <3)

Summary: Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a village mage who had made a comfortable life with her magic shop, ‘Ladybug’s Spells and Potions’. However, her fairly repetitive life was thrown into a tumult when Adrien Agreste, also known as Adrien the Enchanter, abruptly settled in her village one sunny morning. 

And he just so happened to be her new neighbor and rival vendor. 

Now, Marinette was never very fond of change, but by the will of the gods if she was not overwhelmingly enamored with this one. 

Word Count: 3,519

Rating: M (well, right now, its a cool T/G rating, but future content will be M)

Marinette had been tending to her garden that sun-drenched afternoon when the Change occurred.

The entire day leading up to that exact moment in time had been pleasantly uniform---which is how she preferred it to be. Marinette Dupain-Cheng had woken up promptly before sunrise to prepare various brews and elixirs for impending customers, which took her exactly until the first rays of light seeped through the cottage windows. After a minimalistic breakfast of rosemary tea and blackberry scones, the mage busied herself with dusting the wall of grimoires taking up residence on one side of the shop.

As soon as that was done, she took to the task of arranging the herbs she laid out the night before into their designated parcels to place neatly in the vacant spots of their shelves. When she finally settled behind the shop counter, steady streams of clients were waiting for her.

Not to say that there was not the occasional hiccup in her otherwise repetitive lifestyle, because there definitely were. Still, this bump in her day-to-day schedule was of no ordinary caliber. Oh, no.

The change just so happened to be Adrien Agreste, notoriously known as Adrien the Enchanter.

And he just so happened to be her new neighbor and rival vendor.

Now, Marinette was never very fond of change, but by the will of the gods if she was not overwhelmingly enamored with this one.

Adrien stood across the gravel road in front of the now-sold establishment, surrounded by moving crates and helpers. Although it was a fairly warm fall day, he looked sophisticated in a cinched black waistcoat and tightly-fitted slacks, his white button-up rolled above his elbows. His hair stopped midway down his neck, and the way the sun caught on his honey-blonde locks made out as if he were wearing a halo.

Even from afar, and only viewing the back of his being, Adrien was evidently well-built like the gods harvested him from the Garden with the perfect bolline. It felt as if she was gazing upon the male incarnation of Aphrodite and his crown of falling stars.

And if she stared too long, Marinette knew the god before her would turn around and reveal his true, glittering form and steal her vision away.

Suddenly breathless at her own spinning thoughts, Marinette ripped her gaze away from the male and instead focused on the bolline she had been previously putting to use by digging little pockets in the dirt for her wolfsbane seeds. Wolfsbane only germinates in riposte to fresh snowmelt, which is why it’s best to plant them in the early fall so that when winter comes they will have had long enough to ruminate. The budding herb was particularly popular with her customers for its antidotal effects on many poisons and the curse of lycanthropy. Because the seed placement is such a tedious process, it is crucial for Marinette to pay special attention when she sows them.

She would simply have to introduce herself later.

Determined, the mage worked fervently to finish the task she had started, trying her hardest not to think about Adrien. Minutes passed fairly quickly when she got into the groove of things and a good half hour went by before the last seed was bedded and sprinkled with specially iced water. Marinette beamed with pride at her handiwork, settling back on her knees to admire the yard. On each side of the stone path that lead directly to the shop entrance lay her numerous gardening plots that extended until the divider from the shop next-door stopped them. Every plot was nicely aligned and labeled so that customers could peruse for specific ingredients with little difficulty.

Sighing in content, Marinette let her stare wander across the way where all the excitement had been earlier. All the moving crates had disappeared from the street and the helpers were nowhere to be seen. In fact, only Adrien himself remained…and was he looking at her?

With a jolt, she realized he was indeed peering at her with an expression she could not pin down from a distance. Like a firefly in a mason jar, she panicked and considered her possible routes of escape.

Alas, too little too late.

Now he was waving good naturedly at her, flashing a charming smile that could make any glacier melt from its warmth. Marinette refrained from swooning.

Now he was walking (or rather, striding) over the gravel road to greet her from where she was kneeled in her garden. Why couldn’t he have caught her in something more appealing than a dirty pinafore?

And now he was standing a breaths-width away from her, shadowed by the sun and hand extended for her to take graciously. Marinette could scarcely move for a few dizzying moments before coming to her senses and accepting his out-stretched appendage.  

“T-Thank you.” Marinette managed to mumble, hyper aware of how firm and balmy his grasp was. Though they had only just met, he was squeezing her hand like they were long-time friends.

Adrien just nodded courteously and revealed another blinding smile.

“Think nothing of it! I’m Adrien Agreste, the new charms merchant around here. Despite what the name of my shop says, I can assure you that it is only a sobriquet.” Marinette spared a glance to the sign above his shop, which read ‘Chat Noir’s Charms and Hexes’. The names itself piqued curiosity in the mage, but she decided to hold her tongue until they got introductions out of the way.

Besides being popular for the title Adrien the Enchanter and his skills, he was also quite known for being a restless spirit. Adrien moved from village to village, opening up shops under different names and leaving under no discernable circumstances. His father, Gabriel Agreste, was an extremely gifted warlock in the occult world with very deep pockets; it was assumed that’s where he got the resources and funding to hop from place to place with no debts to pay.

“O-Oh, uh, I already know who you are, since you’re kind of well-known in the occult world…” Marinette cringed at the comment and cleared her throat. “A-Anyways, my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng and I’m the owner of ‘Ladybug’s Spells and Potions’.” She gestured vaguely to their surroundings, smiling to soothe the stiffness of her manner.  

“Lovely to be in your company, Marinette.” Adrien replied without missing a beat, much to her relief. He let the pleasantries hang in the air between them as he took a moment to look around. His eyes seemed to sparkle when he restored eye contact with her again. It made her heart skitter in her chest.

“Are you a witch, by chance?” He suddenly burst, leaning forward ever so slightly. This made Marinette grimace and look away.

The pedestal she had put Adrien on shrunk.

Witch.

The very term was borne from the slew of bad apples that plagued their history as magic users, as mages. To her kind, ‘witch’ intoned to the forbidden practice of dark arts and blood rituals as a way of getting tasks or jobs done. Although she had delved little interest in the history, to dabble in forsaken magic was implicit to entering Lucifer’s den. Once a mage sought out the Devils’ shadow magic, the natural power coursing through their veins became irreversibly tainted, much like a poison apple.  

But, as the old proverb proves, ‘one bad apple spoils the barrel’.

During the dark ages, witchery became popular and numerous covens were formed, forever tarnishing their kins’ reputation. Hell, Marinette had ancestors that were active participants and leaders of these covens. Disturbingly, Marinette had heard hushed whispers from her own parents about her grandmother being a savant in witchery—

She did not wish to further ponder the matter.

Marinette let out a tired sigh.

“Adrien, I know you did not mean any harm by it, but please do not refer to me as ‘witch’. I’m a mage.” She informed him seriously, and then added, “Actually, around here, I’m referred to as Marinette the Mage.”

Upon hearing this, Adrien’s face crumpled like dead leaves in the autumn breeze, smile drooping to an ashamed frown. What little skin he was showing paled, and color rushed to his cheeks.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you, and on our very first meeting!” He hurried to amend his mistake, holding up his hands apologetically. “Please don’t think badly of me, it was my mistake!”

Adrien was so distressed that Marinette felt a twinge of regret in her heart. Just a twinge, though.

“It’s, uh, quite alright Adrien. Really, you didn’t know.” She soothed awkwardly, combing her hands through one of her pig-tails to keep her fidget-y hands busy.

“Are you sure? I just grew so excited; it has been far too long since I have made the acquaintance of someone of your kin.” Adrien gave her a nervous stare, lips parting as he leaned inwards. “As you know, magic users have become less and less of a common phenomenon from the lack of…breeding.”

Oh, gods.  

Momentarily strung by this, she mutely nodded.

He wasn’t wrong, seeing as many magic users become so caught up in their own powers they essentially wither into ill-socialized hermits, refusing to marry in fear of having to pass on any of their hoarded knowledge of magic to a heir.

“Y-Yes, I’m just surprised you forgot calling someone like me a ‘witch’ was offensive.” She giggled in good humor to assuage his discomfort. “Ah, perchance could be you’re too—”

Marinette caught herself before she could finish with ‘sheltered’. Gods, that was close. She would rather be stripped of her powers than ever say something so bold to his face, and in such a casually brazen manner too.

Adrien, jumping at the distraction, slanted his eyes curiously at her. A small smile dangled from his lips, but it was vastly different from the polite one he wore when he first greeted her. He couldn’t know, right? Marinette felt very warm all of a sudden.

“Too what?” Adrien asked coyly, cocking his head to the side in the most natural way possible. He gazed at her from beneath his eye lashes, batting them innocently.

Marinette had a sinking feeling that he knew what she alluded to.

Could enchanters gift themselves the power of telepathy?

Oh, gods, she was finished.  

“N-Nothing, forget it! I should probably take my leave, midday rush is about to start.” Her face flamed despite the chilly wind that gusted against them with impressive bravado. Adrien let out a short, harmonious laugh that Marinette knew would ring in her head the rest of the day.

“On that note, I should get back to my shop. I promised an old friend he could visit, maybe you know him?”

“Oh? Mayhap I do.” Marinette amiably replied, glancing at the sundial that lay nearby. They were really cutting it close.

Then again, Adrien Agreste was worth the fuss.

Adrien grinned devilishly. “Well, I guess I’ll have to invite you over next time he visits for you to find out. Bring a friend, too. I would love to get to know you more...”

He half turned away, and breathed her name like it was the most charming thing to have uttered at that moment, “…Marinette.”

And with that Adrien whisked himself from her sight like magic, leaving Marinette in a state of utter and total disarray.

No wonder he donned the title Adrien the Enchanter, because he had already cast an enchantment on her heart.

 Two weeks puttered by without incident and the Autumnal Equinox was almost upon Yoke Elm Village, much to the excitement of Marinette. The autumnal equinox was essentially the first day of fall, which was a big deal to the supernatural and superstitious residents of the village. To celebrate the ushering of a new season, a festival was being held in the town square that evening.

“Alya, hand me another bowl, I’m about finished with this one.” Marinette said as she grinded her incense mix of marigold, passionflower, and fern into the mortar. This was the last batch of ceremonial incense she needed to complete before they could pack all the sets onto her cart to sell before the festival began at sundown. Marinette had been handpicked to be a vendor for the special occasion, having been given the honor to make the traditional incense that would lighted for the sacred ritual that evening.

Unfortunately, Adrien had also been chosen to contribute to the festive event, being given the task of supplying harvest charms to all the farmers and horticulturists as part of the ritual.

In those two weeks of preparation for the event, both Marinette and Adrien had not seen hide or tail of each other (except for their run-in at their local sundry market, which is how they found out why the other had been so preoccupied).

It frustrated Marinette to no end.

It also frustrated Marinette to know that her close circle of friends was getting to know Adrien better during this time period without her.

Though, that was all by chance, of course.

Marinette met with Alya that same day and chattered happily about her intense infatuation with Adrien Agreste. Alya, excited and mystified by her best friend’s abrupt obsession with Adrien, hung onto to every detail. In fact, Alya went out of her way to meet Adrien after their talk. She caught him right as he was about to leave for a rendezvous with an “old pal from his adolescent years”, who turned out to be Alya’s boyfriend of two years running, Nino Lahiffe.

They all got along splendidly, from Alya’s recounting of their outings.

Pushing the thoughts from her head, the female sighed deeply and held out her hand for the next bowl.

“Mari, there are no more bowls to hand you.” Alya waved to the empty counter before them, “We’re done.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at her friend’s plural suggestion.

“Pardon me, I mean you’re done.” Alya tossed her auburn hair behind her shoulder dramatically and carefully pushed off of the bench they were both occupying to avoid snagging her cape.

Alya had already donned her festival wear before venturing to Marinette’s cottage. She fronted a shimmery tan cape gown and a long, thin black cape tied around her shoulders. The tan fabric was layered with black lace from neck to floor, a small slit going up each side of the dress. A black corset belt sat snugly at her waistline, nearly hidden from view by the smooth tulle cloak that encased her figure. To top it all off, Alya had chosen to wear elbow-length gloves that matched indiscriminately with the corset belt.

Needless to say, she was alluring enough to earn the blessing of any grove faerie and harvest god that gazed upon her that evening.

“That’s what I thought.” Marinette let out an entertained laugh as she stood up to remove her work apron, feeling accomplished and relieved that the hard part of her work was done. All she had to do now was transfer all the incense to her cart and book it down to the festival.

Marinette and Alya quickly gathered up all the incense in their baskets and exited the mage’s work shed, which was located behind her shop. The work shed was usually where Marinette tinkered with her magic; inside, she had a work bench, a mixing cauldron, and a three tier shelf that contained all her most prized and precious spellbooks. Additionally, it was where she stored her market stall cart, but that had already been prepped with decorations and moved to the foyer of her home.

The duo entered the shop through the back entrance and hastily loaded all the incense onto the cart. With Alya’s help, the task was finished with plenty of time to spare. While Marinette was busy re-adjusting a frilly bow tied to the bar of the dolly, Alya pounced on her with unexpected vigor.

“What in the--” Marinette yelped, finding herself being steered by strong arms.

“Marinette, we need to get you ready!” Alya cooed as she forced her away from the foyer and towards the stairway on the other side of the shop. “You want to look good for your darling Adrien, right?”

“Erm, well—I wouldn’t call him that, but yes—,” The mage stuttered, affronted by the affectionate nickname.

“That’s what I assumed. Now, cease your henpecking ‘round the incense and go get dressed!” Alya did an impression of a crotchety woman, which caused Marinette to giggle. Alya took this as an opportunity spin her in the direction of her room, successfully tearing her away from the cart.

When the mage began to protest more, she winked playfully, revealing the coal powder dusted on her eyelids, “I’ll look after everything else while you’re away!”

“But—”

“No arguing! Come, come!”

Marinette pursed her lips in resignation as she was hustled up the stairs, the sudden activity causing the picture frames on the wall to tremble as they passed. Thankfully, none of the frames tumbled from their perches by the time Marinette reached the threshold of her bedroom, which was a wooden trapdoor embedded in the ceiling. Magical sigmas had been carved all around the frame of the door, meant to ward off any evil spirits and ill-intending creatures that bumped in the night while Marinette was slumbering.

At least, that was what Marinette told people.

She smiled to herself at the thought as she vanished into the ceiling, the trapdoor rattling as it sunk back into the frame.

 Less than half and hour went by before Marinette finally emerged from her chambers, taking great care not to snag her dress on any of the splintered wood railing as she descended the steps to her foyer. Once she reached the bottom, she practically flew into the adjoining room where Alya was, eager to show off her newest hand-crafted creation.

Alya looked her up and down, whistling appreciatively.

Marinette had decided to match the theme of her gown to the theme of the festival, hence her look being less revealing and more accurate to the history of the event. She had taken an A-line chemise and sewn it to a black, calf-length skirt to establish the dress silhouette. After a bit of needle magic, she turned the skirt into jumpskirt and proceeded to add tulle underneath the body of the gown to fluff it up (for extra measure, she added a silk lining under the tulle to keep it uniform). Marinette then embroidered an elaborate pattern of falling leaves onto the skirt, using magic thread to make the leaves change colors periodically. For the chemise top, she spelled the plain white color to shimmer under moonlight and made the shoulder-sleeves sheer. She also sewed a strip of lacy ruffles along the front buttons and along the collar, making the color outline of the ruffles a gradient of reds, oranges, greens, and browns. As a final touch, Marinette donned an underbust corset to complete the look. In addition, she wore black stockings and lace-up boots.

“What do you think? This one took me ages to finish, even with a bit of magic.” Marinette did a little twirl, lifting the skirt up in a mock curtsy. This made Alya giggle.

“It looks incredible! You look incredible! I just know Adrien will think so, too.” Alya circled Marinette, absently caressing the dress fabric in admiration. It really was an intricate gown, with all the patterns and magic done on fabric.

They both chatted excitedly about the dress for a minute or two more before deciding it was time to leave for the festival. Marinette and Alya hustled the cart out of the cottage door with little difficulty, although there was a bit of a fuss when Alya stubbed her toe on a cobblestone and cursed loud enough for passing festival-goers to throw them annoyed glances. Nonetheless, they both pushed the cart out onto the main road and began their trek towards the townsquare.

Before Marinette could completely leave, she remembered she had not closed up the shop. She rushed back to the cottage, telling Alya to continue on without her. Once she was well up the road and out of earshot, Marinette ducked herself back inside and called out to the shadows.

“Tikki! You can come out now, we have to go!”

A red blur darted out from the stairs and zipped right into her awaiting palm. Tikki yawned and stretched out her arm-like appendages, smiling sweetly up at her as Marinette tucked her into the pocket of the gown. As she was leaving, she swiped the black cloak hanging on the coat hook by the door. It had little embroidered ladybugs lining the edges of the cape and hood, as well as a gold clasp. The mage donned the cloak and swept outside, locking the door as she went.

Marinette fumbled in the midst of her rush to meet Alya, her mind on the weight in her pocket.

Ah, yes. Tikki was a secret she would take to the grave.

[suzie-guru]

FIRE, FROST & FABLE: Glass, Hearts & Snow Prologue

As promised, here is the very start of the Fire, Frost & Fable story, Glass, Hearts & Snow. I’m incredibly touched that so many of you showed interest in this, and I hope it leaves you as as all good tales do: wanting more. 

I plan on spending a lot of time in these lands as the new year stretches on. Thankfully, storytellers are able to adventure quite easily once they put their heart into it and double down on determination, and I intend to do just that.

And now, let us begin... 

“Would you like to hear a story?”

The fire burned with only a meager flame, flickering in the gloom and holding back the shadows of the inn with the dimmest glow. Darkness threatened at any moment to swallow the room whole. The storm outside was just a few pattering raindrops on the thatched roof, but the promise of fierce thunder and howling gales lay thick in the air, an unspoken but dearly felt threat.

The figure by the small fireplace held out their hands, swathed in thick gloves to keep back the chill. Fingers, crooked and long like claws, cut black against the flames. “Well, would you?”

The other person shifted in his seat. “Is it a good one?”

Pale eyes glittered out from the shadows. “A good one. A bad one. A sad, lovely, terrifying, old as the sun-scorched, moon-frozen dirt one.” The eyes crinkled and dry, soft laugh cut through the damp air. “It’s a story. There’s good and bad in each one. But I can tell it to you. The choice is yours. The choice is always yours. But you have to make it. Maybe you’ll find the answers that you’ve never thought to need. Maybe you’ll get your heart ripped out by the words of it. Or maybe they’ll be a balm to you. That’s the danger of choice. You don’t know what will happen. But it’s yours to make.”

Silence at that speech. The man shifted once more and gazed warily at the figure, hunched beside the hearth like some kind of beast, dark clothes and pale eyes and hooked hands trying to warm themselves still, so close to the flames it was a wonder the flesh wasn’t blistering. The fingers wove and danced through air that shimmered with heat. They looked like they’re were trying to coax the flames to life, like they were weaving a spell.

“So, tell me true. Would you like to hear a story?”

Foolishness. The man coughed and spat, then nodded. “Might as well pass the time.”

Another dry laugh. “As good a reason as there ever was.” The hands withdrew, and the figure settled into their own seat, their sigh as soft as the hiss of raindrops on hot coals. “So a story I’ll tell you. And I’ll begin it with the words with which the best tales have always begun.”

The voice grew soft. “Once upon a time…”

The land outside should have been silent with snow, but the storm would not be denied, weaving through the gusts of icy air. The wind of the white twilight whistled sharp and cold amongst the turrets of the castle, howling down cavernous corridors. The spell of cold-snaps whispered across the stones, the hex of frost already nipping at the fragile rose blooms not yet covered by the heavy winter-white blanket.

Witchery weather. It provoked a restlessness, a yearning for that which did not exist but was dearly sought, adventures in lands beyond the border of what is known. It called to the magic stitched into ones skin, cooling iron and brewing blood, sinking into bones. Tensing in the heart before flashing out like lightning, it made one feel ancient and powerful and lonely, belonging to an exhilarating and echoing everlastingness.

It was intoxicating and dangerous to begin with. Witchery weather when darkness fell, when the world was between night and day, was something else altogether. 

Never mind witchery weather in the Winter…

The Queen looked out over the vast snowy stretch of the castle’s gardens, the warm light of the fire at her back. Her face was shrouded in the deepening gloom, the pale blue light of winter and shadows of the dusk playing across her profile. The pensiveness of her eyes was soft, but their strange luster remained undimmed. “She will come.”

“You sound certain,” her husband said, caution in his tones as he crossed from the comfort of the hearth to join her. The silver in his crow-black hair glowed like the copper-gold as his crown and skin, both burnished by the light of the flickering flames. He came to rest behind his wife, joining her to watch the world outside the window. Concern furrowed his brow, and the shivers that crossed his skin were not entirely due to the cold.

The Queen, meanwhile, was as unaffected by the bitter-bone chill as she had always been. “You know how I am about such things.”

“Babes and flowers…” The King muttered, attempting a dry tone, but the result was whispery, almost afraid. He frowned, and his dark eyes came back to the comforting familiarity of his lady. “Snow covers both now. She might not come until Spring. We needn’t worry –”

“She’ll be a Winter babe.” The Queen’s tone was gentle with admonishment. “The season calls to her. The snow calls to her. I feel it, all through me. Born in Winter, blossom in Spring. Life and Death –”

“Comes to all things,” her husband finished. He shifted unhappily. “You know I don’t care for those sayings. Just because something rhymes doesn’t give it any power.”

The Queen laughed and finally turned to her husband, her mouth curving fondly and the fire-flicker in her eyes warm with affection. “True, but there’s still power in words.”

The King wrapped arms around her, sinewy but gentle, and tucked his face into the softness of her hair, breathing her in and giving his confession to the tresses. “Birthing is hard, a battle that a man could never dream of facing. Never mind birthing in Winter. Is there any way in which we could –?”

The Queen shook her head, palming the strong edge of his jaw, dark with stubble. He hadn’t been shaving lately, too consumed with his worry for her. “Life and Death come to all things,” she reminded him gently. “We’ve discussed this. My kind are fragile with births to begin with, and if I’m to die so that she may live, it is how it ought to be.”

His crown gleamed as he bent his head once more. “How it ought to be is that she keeps her mother and I my wife. I would not lose you.” His voice was low, but a crack was there. “I cannot lose you.”

Her heart ached with both love and exasperation. “I’m not seeking to leave you. But I won’t use magic to stall the birth. There’s enough tied to this babe already.” She combed slender fingers through his hair, ice slipping through soot. “I will not deny what is written for her.”

He looked up at that, brown eyes nearly black with ferocity. “And if there’s tragedy written for her? Pain and sorrow and blood?”

She looked at him with a serenity that bordered on impassiveness. “Then that is what is written.”

He let go of her and crossed to the fire, his boots heavy on the flagstones and his fists clenched. “How can you speak so about our daughter?”

“Because I cannot tell her story,” she said quietly. Slender hands passed over the gentle swell of her stomach. “It is not hopeless, my love. There’s what is written, and what she will write.” She crossed to him and held out a hand, which he looked away from. Her cool front shivered slightly, and a faint pleading crept into her tone. “We can only raise her to know warmth and kindness and love, and hope that those will guide her choices.”

He gave her a sidelong look and then abruptly tugged her to him. “Sometimes you seem to have ice over you,” he muttered. “And then your heart burns through, and I feel like a proper ass.”

She smiled and brushed cool, soft lips over his fiery brow. “It is your right, and not entirely unfounded. My kind possesses hearts that beat differently than yours.” Her fingers knotted with his, and the gesture was clumsy and heartfelt. “But we do have them. And we do love with them.” Her voice softened. “We’re simply born to the cold.” Her eyes looked to the window once more. “As will she.”

The King’s gaze followed hers, before he gave a sigh, stepping back. “I should make sure all are indoors. I won’t have anyone freeze tonight if I can help it.”

She let him go. “I’ll have the maids bring blankets up from storage. People can keep to our halls tonight if the storm becomes fierce. The Cavern always keeps one warm.”

He nodded and turned to leave, then stopped. Looking into her eyes, he knelt before her with a slight grunt, stroking large and coarse hands over the bump of her belly, the small world inside her. “I love you,” he said, the hoarseness of his age mixing with the earnestness of a boy. “Both of you.” His eyes sought hers, and they were pleading. “Surely love has more power than words?”

Her smile was soft as her gaze, tender fingers stroking his cheek. “At times they are even matched.”

He took her words silently, and then sighed once more as he stood. To the untrained eye, the line of his broad shoulders was strong as ever as he left the room. But she had weathered too many Winters with him to not see the tension there, the wariness. I could have lied. I could have said anything else to stop him from worrying. The first child is terrifying enough, never mind one tied up with Faerie forebodings.

The Queen sighed, passing an uncharacteristically weary hand over her brow. She had never doubted this, never had tried to question what had been given to her. But her husband’s words had struck close to her heart. And frosty as it was, the flint of his questions had been tinder, cold restraint melting as worry started to smolder and burn in her breast. If I cannot be there for her, for them…

She closed her eyes, turning sightlessly to the gardens. This was the way in which madness lay, burning with anxiety until all that was left was a charred ruin. And fire and her folk had never been a good mix to begin with.

She opened her eyes, iridescent green flashing down to the snow covered lawns below, the normally dark lines of the paths now dancing with drifting eddies and flurries. The sight of the gardens had always soothed her, her husband’s gift to her when they had wed. The perfect marriage of the wildness of nature and the order of civilization, blooming bright and thriving for all to see. The meaning of the gesture had not been lost on her, and she had put her heart into her kiss of gratitude.

She should look upon her gardens. That would soothe her, calm the heart that her baby was slumbering under into a softer lullaby. Her eyes searched and gazed at the grounds as one would look upon their family, a tenderness to her gaze. Then she paused, blinking.

The rosebushes had been nearly covered, the blooms long since gone once the first frosts had smattered across the trunks of the trees in lacy-white designs. But now…

Deep in the drifts of snow, nestled in a black and thorny bush that was nearly burrowed by white, was a single rose, blossoming as though it were in the midst of Summer rather than the dead of Winter. It was a brilliant and brave red, each petal perfection, unparalleled in its beauty.

On its own it would have been lovely. Against the snow, it practically glowed, defying the darkness by flaming forth.  

A harsh call shattered the silence of the gardens, and the Queen started, pressing a hand to her throat. One of her white fingers caught at the necklace there, the pretty curls of metal pricking into frosty flesh. Yet she only had eyes for the dark bird that had fluttered down from its blackthorn tree to cross the snow, its great glossy black head bobbing. A raven. One of the castle’s, perhaps, her husband had always loved them. Ravens and crows, so very clever, so terribly cunning.

The bird seemed a shadow come to life, a dark blot against the purity of the Winter’s fall, quite content to saunter along before pausing by the rosebush. It cocked its head, wings twitching as it considered the impossible beauty of the bloom before it, and the Queen could have sworn that the red of the rose glowed against the inky sheen of the crow’s feathers.

The bird pecked at the flower, short and sharp, and the Queen gasped, already mourning the loss of such unscarred and unspoiled perfection. To maim so carelessly, even if it was in the beasts nature –

But though one petal bore a slash of a scar, the rose still bloomed as bravely as ever, its crimson lush and vibrant and unconquerable. The raven croaked another cry, conceding defeat, then spread its large black wings, shadowing the bush before taking off into the void of swirling snow and night.

The Queen watched it depart, and moved her hand away from her throat. At the movement, blood welled up in a perfect pearl upon the tip of her finger. It fell to the snow-covered ledge of the window, spattering soft in the whiteness and staining it scarlet.

“Hair dark as a raven’s wing, lips red as blood, and skin as pure as snow,” the Queen whispered out into a night that held roses and snow and crows, her voice soft under the howls of the witchery wind. “And let her heart be her own.”

For the first time all evening, the first time since she had known she was to be a mother, she shivered.

[mediaeval-muse]

Book Review... Shea Ernshaw, “The Wicked Deep”

Rating: 3.5/5 stars

Summary:  Welcome to the cursed town of Sparrow… Where, two centuries ago, three sisters were sentenced to death for witchery. Stones were tied to their ankles and they were drowned in the deep waters surrounding the town. Now, for a brief time each summer, the sisters return, stealing the bodies of three weak-hearted girls so that they may seek their revenge, luring boys into the harbor and pulling them under. Like many locals, seventeen-year-old Penny Talbot has accepted the fate of the town. But this year, on the eve of the sisters’ return, a boy named Bo Carter arrives; unaware of the danger he has just stumbled into. Mistrust and lies spread quickly through the salty, rain-soaked streets. The townspeople turn against one another. Penny and Bo suspect each other of hiding secrets. And death comes swiftly to those who cannot resist the call of the sisters. But only Penny sees what others cannot. And she will be forced to choose: save Bo, or save herself.

Reviewer Comments: I picked up this book by chance. I was buying something else when I saw it, and the cover was pretty, so I decided to give it a read. I went in expecting a lot of witchcraft, but was pleasantly surprised that most of the focus is on the idea of witches and local folklore. Granted, there is some supernatural stuff, but it’s not overdone, which I very much liked. In fact, the overall story wasn’t the problem - rather, there were some things about the telling of it that I didn’t quite like. But still, I enjoyed the reading experience and would recommend that others give this book a chance like I did.

Things I Liked

Atmosphere: Echoing other reviews, I will agree that this book is incredibly atmospheric. I love the way Ernshaw describes the town of Sparrow and the nearby sea - I could almost taste the salty air as I read. For me, atmosphere is what makes or breaks a supernatural book, and because Ernshaw handled it so well, I felt myself getting lost in the reading experience.

Local History: Most of this book is focused on a single town, with the stakes being confined to that town alone. I loved how the legend of the Swan sisters leads to Sparrow being kind of like Salem, in that it becomes a tourist attraction, but also that the town has very real local lore and culture. It was a nice change of pace from books about the destruction of the world or the fall of humanity.

Lack of Magic: I’m quite glad that this book didn’t go all out with the magic. Of course, there were supernatural elements, but at no point did the author overdo it. I much rather liked that the focus was on the belief that the Swan sisters were witches rather than actual witchcraft and hexes themselves.

Things I Didn’t Like

Integration of the Twist: This critique is more of a personal preference, so take it with a grain of salt. I wish Ernshaw had sprinkled in more hints at the twist throughout the rest of the book. Once the “big reveal” happens, the narration changes sharply, and I would much rather have it integrated throughout the narrative more fluidly. For example, I really loved moments when I was unsure if Penny was an unreliable narrator - if I could trust her beliefs as fact or not. It made Bo’s skepticism less irritating, and I think Ernshaw could have used it to her advantage.

Characterization of the Swan Sisters: Despite so much attention being focused on the Swan sisters, not much was done to humanize them - and what was done actually caused a lot of conflict between them in a way that I didn’t quite like. They seemed like they were archetypal female villains: using sex appeal to do bad for badness’ sake, and I would have loved for the book to have addressed at least some of the implications it sets up regarding women’s sexuality. I also wished more had been done to explore their sisterly bond and how it becomes strained when the twist happens.

Characterization of Supporting Characters: This book is told in first person, so we get a lot of interiority from Penny. We don’t really get to know other characters, however. Bo seems like he has interesting motivations, but nothing really stands out about him. Rose is a delight, and in my opinion, she was the most enjoyable to read of everyone, but she wasn’t super integral to the main plot.

Recommendations: I would recommend this book if you’re interested in

witches, witch hunts, witch curses

local history, local legends, early American history

secluded towns, islands, lighthouses

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