Chapter 1: Visions and Traditions

I leaned back against a large, oak tree, positioned at the end of our garden. It is the only place on our entire property where I could actually get some privacy.

The old bark snapped off as I shifted back and forth in my makeshift seat, trying to make myself comfortable. My mere touch causing the tree and the grass to wither and start to die. This was just a sign of how strong my power was.

I have always been the most powerful warlock in my coven and nobody could explain why. For the son of a warlock and a witch, my powers were through the roof. I was more powerful than I should be. But nor I or anybody else was complaining. In fact, my coven was happier with it, they said I would make a fine member. I have taken up pride in that. 

I flipped through the pages of my mam's book of spells and potions, frantically searching for the potion I desperately needed.

 The old, yellow pages crackled between my fingertips, a few pieces broke off and floated down to the ground, gently landing on the brown grass. The potion I was searching for didn't have a name, it was just known as a vision stopper. Which if ask me, sounds like a name.

Finally, I found it, neatly tucked at the back of the book. I took my pocket notebook out and began to copy the list of ingredients and steps down. 

As I wrote my left hand began to tremble, my right hand shortly followed. Large beads of sweat began to roll down the sides of my face, staining my cheeks with the foul stench. My eyesight got blurry, drowning me in the white and grey light. My eyes rolled back revealing the whites of my eyes, my head violently convulsed back against the uneven bark of the tree as I was flung into the vision.

I was running through a meadow, chasing a girl. I couldn't see her face as her back was turned towards me. We were laughing, we were happy.

The rays of the early afternoon sun bathed us in their warmth. The sweet sound of birds chirping filled the air, the strong scent of the nearby pine trees wafted in my nose.

The girl’s beautiful laughter made me smile, my face ached with the motion, I was not used to smiling, it is not something a warlock does. 

Eventually, after I don't know how long I caught up to her and tapped her shoulder. But when I did my foot caved beneath me and I tripped.

As I fell I grabbed her shoulder bringing her down with me. We hit the ground with a thud and rolled around in the soft emerald-green grass.

When we stopped, she was crouched on top of me. This just made us laugh harder, my stomach ached as I laughed.

 I still couldn't see her face; it was a blur. But I could see her eyes, they were a bright blue. Then like magnets, our lips were coming closer together. Closer, closer, closer...

" Tobias!" My mam yelled, snapping me out of the vision.

My eyes rolled back to their normal position, the tension keeping my head back against the tree disappeared, my hands stopped trembling and the sweat stopped flowing. My whole body ached as it snapped back to normal.

" Coming!" I yelled back. 

I packed my notebook away and slipped the page back in the back of my mam's book.

As I got up, the tree and the grass instantly came back to life. Flourishing as they had before. Every step back to the cottage felt forced, my body still under some sort of strain from the violent convulsions I had during the vision.

As I walked back to the cottage I thought about the vision. I had been getting it since the night of my eighteenth birthday, which was two weeks ago. Every time I had it, I would feel happy and another feeling that I couldn't name, but I didn't like it. Happiness and whatever the other one was, are not feelings that a warlock should feel. They weren't in my nature. So why was I feeling them with this mystery girl?

" What were you doing up there and why do you have my book?" My mam glared at me, spitting the questions through clenched teeth.

If my mother wasn't always so angry you would probably notice how beautiful she actually is. Despite being in her early forties she looks like she is in her early thirties, with her long ebony black hair falling gracefully around her waist, the curls would bounce as she walked. Her skin is a milky-white with a touch of a tan. Her tall figure is slim but not too slim. Her face was a bit plump, her cheeks stood round and flushed, her nose was almost perfect with a small white scar down the right side of her bridge. But her most captivating feature is her light brown eyes dotted with a small touch of green.

I on the other hand look nothing like my mam. The only resemblance we have is dark hair.

 I am tall, standing at six feet five inches. I am muscular but not too muscular, my skin is a warm tan from all my time outside. My jaw is sharp, lightly dotted with my newly growing beard. My lips are a dark pink; my upper lip is thin while I have a full bottom lip. My eyes are bright green, greener than the grass in the summer months.

 I must look more like my father than my mam. But I wouldn't know what he looked like.

 He was an assassin for my mam's last coven. While on a mission he was killed by an enemy coven. My mother was apparently heartbroken, which was surprising because I didn't know she had a heart.

 After she has me she packed up her stuff and moved us here to the hidden valley where we joined the local coven.

I used to ask my mam what, my dad was like, but she would never answer me. She would just shut herself off and go to the library, I wouldn't see her for the rest of the day. 

" Do you have wax in your ears, I asked you a question. What were you doing up there?" My mam growled. 

" Just learning." I shrugged as I handed her the book. 

I haven't told her about the vision and I would prefer not to. I just don't want to admit that I feel happy in the vision. It would just be better if I handle this myself.

She tossed the book onto the brown leather couch then locked the metal door. The lock clicked as the key was turned then pulled out. My mam slipped the key- which was made specifically with bone- into her dress pocket.

" Let's go. We don't want to be late for your testing." 

It is a tradition that when a witch or warlock turned eighteen they would be taken to their clan's or coven's temple to be tested.

 The test would reveal if they were destined to use blood, bone, or familiar magic. Or if they were to become an assassin, which was very rare.

After the test, they are pointed to a trainer and would train for a month before finally becoming a full member of the clan or coven.

 I could have done this test two weeks ago, but I had to wait for Cleo and Naomi to turn eighteen as well. Today the three of us were going to be tested together. 

Most witches are nervous about the test. If the test reveals that you don't have the capability of using blood, bone, or familiar magic or could become an assassin, you would be stripped of your power and kicked out of the coven or clan.

 But I'm not nervous, I'm fairly confident that I will be a bone warlock. Or I could possibly be an assassin like my dad. 

When I was younger I would pray to the devil that he would make me an assassin like my dad. I used to laugh at the fact that I wanted to be like a man I know little about. 

We briskly walked across the garden to the cave. The cave is our entrance and exit to the valley.

When I was little I used to pretend that a dragon lived behind the boulder that sealed the cave and I had to slay it. I would try with all my might to open it, but my mam stopped me and locked me in the cellar for a whole day.

I never liked the cellar, it was dark, cramped, smelt like moss, and liked something had died. Large black rats with red eyes scurried and squealed on the shelves. Sometimes they would crawl over me, biting me with their sharp teeth. I used to try bash my way out, my hands would bleed as broken nails on the door punctured my flesh, I have the scars to remind me. 

My mam would lock me in there when I did something she didn't approve of- which by the way is anything considered fun-. It used to scare me, but eventually, I pushed the fear deep down and it toughened me up.

With a flick of her bony wrist, my mam removed the boulder. We walked through the cave, small drops of last night’s remaining rain dropped onto our clothes forming dark spots. When we were out on the other side my mam moved the boulder back into position.

We quietly strolled across a large meadow, dewdrops wet the bottom of my pants, some getting into my shoes.

When we got to the other end of the meadow, we followed a little, cobbled path through the trees and eventually we reached the village of Hawthorn.