![]() I felt it again as I made my morning offering of honey-cake and milk at the altar in ourĬottage garden. the possibilities of what waited within the dank, dark trees made it all too easy for the Wytchwood to grab hold and paralyze one with petrifying terror. These dangers were as real as we young witches, mages and mystics imagined them It was a place full ofĭangerous creatures, plants, and even the very stones could lead a witch astray, so the elders said in their stories. The Wytchwood was a dark place where fears took root and grew. Would chain children to her daimon ilk and send them deep into the woods to gather herbs in the rankest of bogs, where more horrors in the guise of leshii, woebegones and nuckelavees waited to drag Never be disobeyed, delighted in collecting young wanderers to clean her House of Bones and toil in her Poison Garden, all while tormenting them with her imps and pixies. I listened to stories about children who never came back. They could brave the fierce Magyck of the Wytchwood before they were called to be tested by the Wytch Hag and prove their readiness for their Anima Familia. I had grown up listening to nightmarish tales of luckless or senseless children thinking I did not understand why it was so, only that it was. Would be to face the Wytch Hag in her House of Bones. ![]() And I knew the only way this would happen I knew that my Anima Familia could only be found within the dark depths of the Wytchwood. My heart’s Familiar, the other half of myself, my Anima Familia. I would not Bloom into my Magyck as a witch until I could meet Mind, weaving its way down the spiraling stairs to my heart the message taking hold loud and clear, “To the Wytchwood you must go.” It began with a dream whispering its gossamer threads through my
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