Once upon a time Camila wouldnât have ever dreamed over going into the woods all on her own. She was smarter than that, thank you very much. She knew damn well that people who went out into the woods all by themselves didnât always return, and under no circumstances would she ever be one of those people. But after finding out that she was a witch... Well, what exactly did she have to worry about? Besides, she needed a quiet, isolated place to practice her magic. A place where no one would be snooping around. From what sheâd gathered, the brand of magic sheâd planned on practicing tonight wasnât exactly approved of.Â
It wasnât like she was bringing back the dead or sacrificing a goat or something, but Camila wasnât going to take the chance of someone catching her and... Well, shit, she didnât know what anyone would actually do to her. Or if theyâd do anything at all. But she wasnât going to take the chance nonetheless, which meant hiking out into the woods until she finally reached a point where she felt secluded. The woods were noisier than she expected. Leaves rustled, bugs chirped, animals darted to and fro. But the isolation was eerie, if she was honest. So she quickly knelt to the ground and got to work.Â
From the backpack sheâd slung around her shoulders Camila pulled out a few candles, a small knife, and a lighter. Camila took the final item from her bag slowly, almost reluctantly. A part of her was hesitant, afraid of what she was about to do. But there was a smoldering, suffocating anger deep in her gut that pushed her forward. The kind of anger that began as agony. The kind of anger that didnât fade over time. The anger of a child abandoned by their own mother. A picture of her mother was gripped tightly in Camâs hands. She stared at it for a few seconds, eyes filling with hot, hateful tears. âYou deserve this.â The words were barely a whisper, lost in the noises of the night.
Her spell was relatively simple. At least in theory. All she had to do was light a candle, say a few words, burn a picture. Simple, right? Sucking in a deep breath, Camila focused on settling her heat beat. She had no reason to be nervous or unsure. Sheâd researched this spell for weeks now, and she knew every step by heart. She would make no mistakes tonight. This spell would work... If the strength of it didnât kill her first. She knew jack shit about dark magic. There werenât too many people she talked to that were willing to give her all the details she wanted, so sheâd taken to figuring it out for herself. Which meant finding a hex online, quizzing a few fellow witches about how realistic it was, and then gathering all the things sheâd need to cast it.
There was a time in her life where sheâd never dream of hexing her mother, never dream that it was possible. But she wasnât the same little girl that she used to be. She was a witch. And isnât this exactly what witches did when they were wronged? Lighting the candles quickly, Camila placed them all around her. She only needed one, or so her spell said, but sheâd brought more to hopefully give her more energy. The black candle was placed directly in front of her, its flame casting a warm glow on her face. After steadying herself, taking a single moment to just breathe, Camila finally began the spell. She took the knife and cut a small incision into her thumb. Just a few drops of blood was all she needed. As she held her fingers above the candle, the flame began to grow. Her blood made an almost sickening sizzle as it fell into the flames. Words poured from her mouth, voice still pitched into a low whisper. Despite the incantation being a mouthful, it wasnât hard for her to memorize. It flowed from her lips easily as she took the photo and held it above the flames.Â
