Origins: The Elder Witches

By Lucius Qayin

For centuries, the mysterious Cruor Sisterhood has dominated the remote mountain villages through fear and occult powers granted by their worship of dark spirits. But when forbidden sorcery unexpectedly manifests in young peasant Avalina, she finds herself at the center of a dangerous uprising boiling over.
At first intoxicated by newfound abilities, Avalina convinces herself commanding such mythic might is necessary to crush unjust rulers and build a liberated magical order from the ashes. But will she become overwhelmed by the seductive whispers of demons and specters from the abyss promising even greater powers in exchange for terrible commitments?
With the untethered pursuit of magical supremacy comes profound corruption—one that will echo through the ages to found the very Cruor Academy of Magical Arts joined centuries later by sisters Cassandra and Selene Leclair.
The Elder Witches unveils the shadowy genesis of the infamous Cruor Coven before they dominated magic itself through generations of tyranny to come. But sparks once ignited can blaze redeeming lights or raze all remaining goodness to the ground.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lux Occulta Books
• Release date: Feb 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9791223009161

Book preview

Origins: The Elder Witches

The Leclair Witch Chronicles

Lucius Qayin

ISBN (Trade Paperback): 978-1-951434-98-4

Copyright © 2024 by Lucius Qayin and Bune Holdings.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the care of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher via email at the address below.

[e-mail]

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

All interior pages artwork : Rasa

All Artwork © 2024 by Rasa. Used with permission.

First edition 2024

Published by:

Lux Occulta Press (an imprint of Bune Holdings)

Contents

1.Awakening Gifts

2.Flight from the Ashes

3.Refuge Among Ruins

4.Forbidden Wisdom

5.The Grey Calling

6.A Faustian Exchange

7.The Sisterhood's Fall

8.The Corrupting Cost

9.A New Coven Rises

10.Scouring Light from the World

11.No Sacrifice Too Severe

12.The Cold Immortal Queen

Chapter 1

Awakening Gifts

Avalina's fingers traced the dew-speckled petals of the morning glories as she wound her way through the sleepy village. The flowers, with their faces to the dawn, were not unlike the villagers themselves—turning towards a light they had little choice but to follow. As the copper-haired maiden passed by, she drew more than a few curious glances; whispers followed her like shadows cling to twilight.

With a sigh that rustled through her lips like leaves in a gentle breeze, Avalina reached the well at the heart of the hamlet. Here, she performed her morning ritual, drawing water with an earthenware jug, each movement an echo of days past. The water's surface mirrored her emerald eyes—a wellspring of untapped power gazing back at her.

In these quiet moments before the village fully awoke, Avalina allowed herself to dream of a life unbound by the Sisterhood's iron decree. The Coven's will shaped every facet of existence here, their edicts as unyielding as the ancient stones that made up their far-off fortress.

A murmur of discontent slipped from her lips as she carried the filled jug back to her modest dwelling. There, her mother awaited, lines of worry etched upon her face deeper than any plow could furrow soil. Avalina, she called out in a voice laced with both love and caution, remember thy place.

I know, Mother, Avalina replied, setting down the jug with more force than necessary. The water sloshed over its rim, spilling onto the earthen floor. But why must our place be one of such confinement?

Her mother's eyes softened as she reached out, brushing a stray lock of copper from Avalina's face. The world is fraught with perils, she murmured. The Sisterhood shields us.

Avalina's heart grew heavy at these words; such fears had been sown by the Coven like seeds in barren ground—sprouting into a harvest of obedience. Yet within her chest beat a heart that yearned for more than this meager existence prescribed by those who wielded magic like a yoke.

The morning chores unfolded as they always did—tending to their meager garden, feeding their few chickens—and with each task completed, Avalina felt her spirit chafe against invisible bonds. She caught herself staring at horizons obscured by thickets and brooding woods, imagining what lay beyond.

As noon approached and brought with it the Sisterhood's emissary—a crow-black figure against the azure sky—Avalina straightened up from her work in the garden. The woman strode towards her with purpose, her gaze piercing as if it sought to unveil every secret thought.

Avalina, she intoned in a voice that brooked no argument. The Sisterhood requires thy presence.

A shiver traced its way down Avalina's spine—not from fear but from resentment. She nodded silently and followed obediently yet with every step felt an inner resolve hardening like ice upon a winter's branch. Avalina knew the summons was no mere request; it was a command, one that spoke of the Sisterhood's unassailable authority.

As they traversed the cobblestone path that led out of the village, Avalina’s gaze lingered on the cottages that huddled together like frightened sheep. The emissary’s cloak billowed behind her, a dark flag that seemed to swallow the light. Avalina’s thoughts churned like storm clouds on the horizon. What did they want with her this time? Her previous encounters with the Sisterhood had left her with a taste as bitter as wormwood.

The two women reached a clearing where the air hung heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth. The emissary turned, her eyes gleaming with an intensity that belied her measured tone. Thou hast been chosen, she said, to partake in a rite most sacred.

Avalina’s heart skipped as if tripped by an unseen root. Chosen? The word echoed in her mind, each syllable fraught with portent.

Aye, the emissary confirmed, thy gifts have not gone unnoticed. A cold smile flickered across her lips.

Gifts. The word should have warmed Avalina, but instead it felt like a shroud draped over her shoulders—gifts that she had kept hidden, lest they draw unwanted scrutiny. Gifts that now seemed to ensnare her further into the Sisterhood’s web.

They stood at the edge of a grove where shadows pooled beneath gnarled trees. The silence between them stretched taut as a bowstring until Avalina broke it with a quiet defiance. And if I refuse?

The emissary’s eyes narrowed, and for an instant, Avalina saw something dangerous flash within their depths—a warning as clear as the clink of chainmail or the hiss of a drawn blade.

Refusal is not within thy purview, came the silken reply.

Avalina swallowed, her throat tight as if constricted by invisible hands. She understood then; choice was an illusion under the Sisterhood’s dominion.

With one last glance back at the village—a tapestry of simple lives and simple dreams—Avalina stepped into the shadows of the grove behind the emissary, leaving behind the sunlit world she knew for one shrouded in mystery and menace.

* * *

Avalina's fingers trailed through the soil, her mind elsewhere as she and Elora tended to the herb garden. The air held a crispness that spoke of impending autumn, and leaves rustled with a hushed urgency above them. Elora, knees dug into the earth, worked with a focus that made her violet hair fall like a curtain around her intent face.

Your touch is different today, Elora murmured, not looking up from her task of coaxing a stubborn root from the ground. The plants are... responding.

Avalina offered a noncommittal hum, her gaze on the vibrant green sprouts that seemed to lean toward her hands as if seeking warmth. She could feel the pulse of life within them, a connection that was at once exhilarating and terrifying.

Watch this, Elora said with a grin, summoning the essence of growth with a whisper that made the air thrum. A bud unfurled before their eyes, petals stretching languidly toward the sun.

Avalina smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. You make it look so easy.

Because it is. Elora glanced up finally, eyes bright with challenge. Magic's as natural as breathing—if you let it be.

That was when it happened. A clod of dirt beside Avalina's knee trembled before lifting into the air, quivering as if held by invisible strings. It hovered for a moment before splitting neatly in two, each half falling away from an unearthed root.

Elora froze, her gaze snapping to Avalina. Did you—?

Avalina's heart raced. She hadn't meant to do anything; it had been an errant thought at best. Yet there it was: undeniable proof of something beyond the mundane flickering within her.

I didn't— Avalina began, but words failed her as another clump of soil rose without her bidding.

Elora reached out slowly, almost reverently touching the suspended dirt with one finger before letting out a low whistle. That's no simple plant magic.

Avalina watched in mute fascination as more soil levitated, parting like the Red Sea at Moses' command. She could feel a pull in her chest, an echo of the force she exerted without knowing how or why.

Control it, Elora said softly but firmly. Feel where it comes from and wrap it gently.

Avalina closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The power ebbed and flowed within her like tides governed by an unseen moon. She focused on that ebb and found herself not commanding but coalescing the energy into something tranquil.

The soil descended softly back to earth, and Avalina opened her eyes to find Elora studying her with newfound respect—and perhaps a touch of wariness.

That's... not what they teach us, Elora said after a moment, breaking the charged silence.

No, Avalina agreed quietly, feeling the weight of unspoken secrets between them swell like storm clouds on the horizon.

Elora brushed off her hands and stood up gracefully. You're different, Avalina. Her voice was low but carried an edge of excitement. You're going to change everything.

The notion should have thrilled Avalina—the power to alter her destiny—but instead it nestled in her chest like a stone, heavy with unknown implications.

The whispers wound their way through the village like tendrils of morning mist, insidious and unstoppable. Avalina felt them in every sidelong glance, every hurried sign of the cross as she passed. The villagers' fear clung to her, a cloak woven of dread and suspicion. It was only a matter of time before the Sisterhood heard—such news traveled faster than wildfire.

In the market square, a cluster of women huddled together, their voices low and urgent. Avalina caught snippets as she moved past, her basket of herbs clutched like a shield.

...unnatural, one woman muttered, casting a furtive look Avalina's way.

Dark omens, another agreed, crossing herself.

Avalina kept her head down, focusing on the uneven cobblestones beneath her boots. Her hands trembled slightly, and she willed them still. She couldn't afford to show weakness, not when every eye seemed to accuse her of crimes she hadn't committed—yet.

At the edge of the square, an old man with eyes like clouded glass reached out to her. Child, he rasped, his gnarled hand gripping her arm with surprising strength. The Sisterhood won't abide by this.

Avalina met his gaze, searching for malice but finding only concern. I know, she whispered back.

Take care, he urged before releasing her. They're not known for their mercy.

She nodded, unable to muster words past the lump in her throat. As she moved away from him, from the murmurs and pointed fingers, Avalina felt an isolation as profound as if she had been cast into a deep chasm. The air around her seemed colder now, each breath forming a visible puff against the gray sky.

Back at home, her mother waited with furrowed brow and lips pressed into a thin line. The air inside was heavy with unspoken fears.

They're talking about you, her mother said without preamble, hands wringing the edge of her apron in a rhythmic pattern that spoke volumes of her anxiety.

Avalina set the basket down with care. I can't stop them from talking.

Her mother shook her head sharply. It's not just talk! They're scared—scared enough to do something foolish. Her voice rose with each word until it cracked with emotion.

Let them be scared, Avalina replied softly but with a steel edge that surprised even herself. I'm tired of hiding what I am.

Her mother's eyes widened at the defiance in Avalina's tone. She took a step forward as if to argue but then faltered, words dying on her lips as resignation settled over her features like ash from a snuffed-out fire.

You must be careful, she said at last. We must all be careful now.

Avalina felt the weight of her mother's gaze as it bore into her—protective yet fraught with unvoiced warnings. She wanted to reassure her mother that everything would be alright but found that lies had become as bitter on her tongue as wormwood.

Instead, she reached out and took her mother's hands in hers, offering silent comfort where words failed. Her own power hummed beneath her skin—a reminder that no matter how much they wished otherwise, they could not escape what was to come.

* * *

The earth beneath Avalina's feet seemed to tremble, resonating with the pounding of her heart as she watched the Sisterhood's enforcers march her family into the clearing. Her father's brow furrowed in silent defiance, her mother's lips pressed into a thin line of fear. They struggled against the iron grips of their captors, like saplings in a gale.

High Priestess Morna stood amidst her followers, a wraith among shadows, her voice slicing through the charged air. Magic without our guidance, without our control, is forbidden.

Avalina felt the sting of those words like a slap across her face. She clenched her fists, feeling a swell of power within her chest, an untamed force begging for release.

Her father caught Avalina's gaze, his eyes a mix of anger and sorrow. We've done no wrong, he asserted, his voice resonating with a strength that seemed to momentarily push back the darkness.

Morna cackled, a sound dry as parchment. Naivety does not excuse defiance, she croaked. Her eyes locked onto Avalina's with predatory focus. The girl's powers have been kept from us, nurtured in secret. This is an affront to the Sisterhood and will not be tolerated.

Avalina stepped forward, her resolve hardening like cooling steel. My powers are my own, she declared, each word imbued with an unwavering certainty that belied her sixteen years.

The High Priestess arched a single brow. Foolish child. Magic unchecked can bring nothing but ruin.

Avalina nodded, a deceptive calm masking the tempest brewing within. Perhaps, she agreed, her voice steady as the ground beneath them. But fear will not be my leash.

The air around them crackled with tension, charged with the potential of what might unfold. Avalina's copper hair whipped about her face as if alive with her rising ire. Her emerald eyes, reflecting the dense canopy above, glowed with an inner