Hello, this is the first installment of the first story I'm publishing here! There is little sex in this one, but I promise things will heat up more in the following chapters to come. I'd love to hear your thoughts and feedback, especially as I continue writing this one. Thanks for reading and please consider following me and rating my story if you like it!
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It's nights like these when I feel most inspired. The soft glow of the full moon makes my blood sing, energy thrumming through my veins and reverberating down to my bones. Tucking my little sister into her bed, I feel my skin practically crackling as I set out with my bottles and things under the cover of the night.
The forest is dark, scary, and inviting. The trees seem to lean towards me, enticing me to trek some dangerous way. But, there's danger afoot among the dirt paths. Stories of creatures that come out only under the full moon, large and hairy beings, echo through my ears. I feel the quick rhythm of my heart shaking my vision. Part of me is terrified, but at the same time, the fear enthralls me. Something about tonight. It makes me bold and reckless. My spirit is excited for adventure.
Light as I try to make my movements, small rocks crunch under each step. The noise fights against the eerie silence that is thick in the misty air.
Tonight, I'm on my way to my cove. It's my second home, the workshop where I tinker with all sorts of potions and other concoctions. As much as I love being home with Era, our humble abode is far too out of the way from the ingredients I require, which are found only in the elements. My solution was to set up another camp for myself, equally as humble as our residence. So far, it's worked quite well. In the past year or so that I've had it, I've increased our income nearly three-fold without having to make the trip back and forth multiple times a week for what I need. Instead, I'll stay at my camp hard at work, fulfilling orders at a faster pace as Era brings me any new ones that come in.
And tonight, I'm headed to my cove since on the way there'll be ample opportunity to expand my influence.
Just a witch's legend, perhaps. But I've heard countless times from my parents of the moon-glow, a mushroom that surfaces only on the third full moon at the turn of the century. I've heard the stories in awed whispers because it's precious and rare, versatile for all sorts of immoral, illicit, and dark magic. For myself, though, what intrigues me is its promises of healing properties. Anti-aging to an obscene degree and healing impossible-to-heal wounds in seconds are both purposes that would provide Era and me with security for the rest of our lives, even just with a couple of sales. Tonight, I'm on the search for even just a bit of this mushroom.
The way to my cove is a long one, but a small meadow exists not too far out from the path between my home and my second home. My hunch is that if there are to be any moon-glow found tonight, it'll be in that meadow. The first time I passed through it, there was something in me that felt drawn to the place. Would it be too cheesy to say like a moth to a flame?
The meadow always seems to create an abundance of what I need, whether it's ingredients for my concoctions or even food to feed my sister and myself through the tough winters we've faced. Even with just the witch-half of me connected to the force of magic, I knew this meadow was a powerful place. Making my way towards the meadow, I feel oddly confident that I will find this poorly-documented magical mushroom waiting for me.
It has to be at least fifteen minutes before I know I'm nearing my destination. I'm invigorated as I stride through the fog with confidence, stepping carefully through shrubs and other growth as to not get my cloak caught on any arrogant branches. I peer past the particularly large tree that marks the path's bend, my eyes feasting on the sight in front of me.
"Wow."
The meadow is more beautiful than ever tonight. A pale blue emanates from pockets of the clearing. Though it's almost difficult to see the details of what's shining past its brightness, I can make out vague mushroom-like shapes through the orbs of light punctuating my sight.
Gleefully, fully aware that this is an experience that not every witch gets to experience, I set about picking as much as I can. In all honesty, I wish for more. According to the legends, only a minuscule amount is needed to use the moon-glow properly, but with each bright light only yielding one, maybe two mushrooms, I'm only able to harvest a small amount in total.
The moon-glow ceases to glow so brightly when I pick them. Instead, they very slightly let off a pale light nestled in my basket. I cover the goods with cloth and giddily continue onto my camp, eager to enhance my own magic with this ingredient.
As a half-witch, my practice has been fairly limited. Especially considering that my father, the one who gave me the magic in my blood, passed away when we were young. Mother died shortly after, but not before telling me as much as she could recall about magic. We pored over papa's humble collection of spellbooks together. I knew she felt bad that I was never able to learn much before papa died, so passing on her fleeting knowledge was her way of apology, commiseration at our shared loss.
The legend of moon-glow I first heard from papa as a babe, but my mother was the one who reinforced the legend with what she knew as fact, or at least what she'd heard from her husband while he was still alive. Papa had talked about it a fair bit, knowing that the turn of the century would be during his lifetime. At least, it should have been, before the sickness took him.
After Era and I were left on our own, we were faced with the harsh reality of our situation. Already living quite isolated away from others due to our low status, I'd have to find some way to provide for us with what was already available to us, or move closer to the city. A gamble in and of itself, but with my sister in tow, frankly dangerous. With little experience in anything, really, I would have to find backbreaking work for barely enough to scrape by. The only other alternative hung over us, where I would be resigned to a life knocking on the doors of rich men, in hopes they'd sneak me into their homes and onto their kitchen tables for secretive and quick pleasure. It may certainly be more fruitful, but it was also something neither me nor my sister seriously considered. It was no secret that the life of a whore is as dangerous of a place for a woman as it can be.
Instead, with the enhanced knowledge about magic I gained during the final months of my mother's life, I set about making a name for myself. Papa had had a fair share of clients but had stopped serving them as he'd grown sicker and sicker. When I first began offering my services, there were hardly any clients. But, as time went on, the few stragglers who hadn't yet heard of papa's passing came by. Only a couple of those needed what I could offer. Any more intensive potions and poultices, I had to turn away. But, as a little half-witch with a penchant and gift for healing, anytime a client needed healing services, I was more than happy to provide my expertise. When it came to healing magic, something in me seemed to come alive even when I didn't quite know what to do. My practice grew, and so did my skills. Years passing marked an increase in clients as word spread of they young, talented healer, which necessitated me building my workshop, and led to this moment, where I cradle the freshly picked moon-glow close to my breast.
