Prologue
In the middle of the night, six women began a journey in an eerie silence to a place only their kind knew existed. A place where the forest trees keep hidden, the dead watch from the confines of the cemetery, and a dark past is kept secret. Each step taken on the uneven ground was often taken with extra care when clouds obscured the moon’s light.
Finally reaching the halfway mark to their destination, the six women came to the old concrete bridge known as Doomlock. Pausing here for a few minutes, they stood in silence. Some of them sighed in gratification for making it this far without a hitch. Others breathed heavily, not daring to say what was on their mind in fear of jinxing them all, but were happy they had made it.
One by one, they crossed the bridge knowing what they were soon to be doing. Knowing it could go wrong, and if it did, the consequences would be paid at a high price.
Tall trees were rooted on either side of the long path, which formed an illusion of an arch as they walked down it with poorer light than before. This would be the hardest part of their journey; the surrounding trees and air would dig into their subconscious, making them choose a fight or flight response. Not one of the six women gave in to the torment they would have suffered through this small walk, for there in the distance it stood. The Tree of Life.
Upon arriving where they needed to be, each woman retrieved a candle from the wrapped cloth they had been carrying, taking the candle, and placing each one in a particular order to form a spiral shape in front of the tree. With the last candle laid in its place, the six women linked hands, forming a circle around them. All of them stood there in silence, listening, waiting. The branches from the trees were the only sound heard, a rhythmic noise of swishing and whooshing around them as they waited for the time.
With their eyes closed, each one of them took deep breaths in, out, in and out as one by one the candles came to life. As soon as the moon moved out from behind the cloud once again, the leader of the women looked around the group and asked them all if they were ready.
“Earth to Earth, blood and water, we call upon our lost daughter.”
“Earth to Earth, blood and water, we call upon our lost daughter.”
They began their chant.
“Earth to earth, blood and water, we call upon our lost daughter... ‘Louder, faster.’ The leader shouted through the strong wind that began to build and whirl around them swallowing their words...
“Earth to earth, blood and water, we call upon our lost daughter.” All six of them carried on desperately fighting against the odds of the wind.
“Earth to earth, blood and water, we call upon our lost daughter.”
The wind had become increasingly hostile towards them, lashing out, finding anything in its path to harm them. Sticks whipped at them, scratching and drawing blood, stones and debris were flung at them, leaving them bruised and hurt, but they wouldn’t stop.
“Earth to earth... blood and water...” they continued...
“Meredith…,” the leader screams out to their youngest member. "Whatever you do, don’t lose that grip.”
“I can’t... I can’t... hold on... It’s too strong... I can’t...it’s pointless...I am losing it…”
As soon as the words left Meredith’s lips, her first hand slipped through the fingers of the woman to her left. The link had been partially broken. The young girl tries her hardest to reach the hand she had dropped, but the wind is keeping a wedge between them.
Meredith’s second hand to the woman on her right was ripped free as the wind howled and hissed, throwing her through the air where her death-curling screams were heard even over the wind. The remaining women didn’t stop to see if the girl was okay; they all knew that they had to try and carry on with the summoning. They had to close the link quickly, but they didn’t have a chance. All remaining women experienced the same as Meredith and were flung backwards through the air, each screaming in fear and shock at what was happening. As the last of the five women landed, the candles all went out, leaving them in the darkness.
The wind had disappeared as if never there, and a silence prevailed around them all before chaos broke out. In the darkness, they were calling each other’s names, asking if everyone was okay and not hurt, while scrambling around trying to account for each other’s location.
Beginning to all talk at the same time, moaning at each other to use their magic to light the candles, one telling them they were trying to, but nothing was happening, all of them began crying in frustration as they realised that their magic was not working either.
“Come, ladies, calm yourself. All will be well. We just need to...” The leader began to speak.
“Who...who m-managed to use their magic.” One of the women cried.
“What are you talking about, Claire?” Another snapped. “We all said that we couldn’t.”
“There is no need to speak like that to me.” The one called Claire cried back. “If we all couldn’t use our magic, how come one is lit?”
“Ladies, please,” The leader spoke firmly to them all. “Now is not the time to argue.” She interrupts them. “It doesn’t matter who did. It’s lit, end of. Now we must make sure everyone is okay and figure out what happened.”
As much as the witches were amusing him, he was growing tired of waiting for them to finish, so he coughed. That was better. The sound of his cough made all six of them turn and gasp at the sight of him standing here in the middle of the spiral they had made from the candles, all dressed in black.
“I’m afraid to say that none of you ladies lit the candle. That was all me.” He smiled, using his biggest, most charming smile on them all.
The leader of the women, feeling brave or stupid, took a step closer to their intruder. “You,” she whispered. “But how…?”
Laughing, while holding his hands up in surrender, and still smiling, looks across at all the women before replying.
“Guilty.” He laughs.
“But how? What are you doing here?” She repeated.
“That, my dear Florence,” he beams as at her expression for knowing her name. “That is something I was expecting you to explain.” He points his finger at her.
With her voice quivering and breaking, she begins to explain.
“I do not understand,” we did not... never would...”
“Call for me? Summon me here?” He laughs. “No, I doubt very much you would do such an incredibly silly thing.”
“We were summoning...” one of them began to speak up, only to be hushed.
“Yes,” He raised his eyebrows in query. “Carry on, pray do tell me, Florence,” he ignores the witch that spoke, instead choosing to keep his eyes on her. “Pray do tell me. If it was not I that you were summoning, who was it?”
Florence kept quiet; she was not willing to tell him anything. Doing so could prove far more dangerous for them all compared to what they were doing tonight.
Stepping out of the circle, laughter in his twinkling eyes as he watches the witches scarper back away from him, one of them cried out at him.
“Are you going to kill us?” she cries.
“Mary, for Pete’s sake.” Florence cried at the woman.
“Do not fear, ladies, I will not be killing any of you tonight. Now, if you will excuse me, I have places to be and someone to find.” He tells them, slowly walking away, looking amused again.
The woman was still fearful but beginning to relax as they were being left alone, until the words rang over his shoulder for them to hear.
“Not tonight, ladies, I won’t be, but very soon. After all, you are witches and have heard of the legend…
