wickcd-waysâ:
 á´ ÉŞ á´ Ę á´ á´ && Ňá´x*
â Maybe I was waiting for the right time.â Violet spoke to the wind, with a shrug. â Not anymore.â
 â I donât know, half of me would love to do it again and the other half of me is revolted.â It was her soul splitting, the darker the magic the less of a conscious she would have. All her magic mingled with denial, fought to escape at her dear friend. Every part tensed in a breakneck speed as she repressed the force into small organized cuts on her upper thighs. â â thereâs always a way to fix it. Thatâs why Iâm a witch â I have to fix things or else whatâs the point? â She retorted breaking out in tears.Â
âAs someone whoâs lived over half a millennium, I can tell you: thereâs no such thing as the right time,â he spoke firmly. He sighed. âNothing wrong with that. We all want to do bad things sometimes.â He flashed her a cheeky grin. âMe more often than most.â Fox froze when she started to cry. It was the opposite of his goal. âVi,â he approached her. He reached out for a moment, as if he was going to pull her into an embrace, then stopped. âYouâre a witch, not a god. Youâre a guardian of nature. You should dry such dark magic. It corrupts the magic and its user.â He shook his head again. âYou wonât get your mother back this way.â


















