THE WITCH'S MARK - by Mimi ✨

CHAPTER ONESetting: A mythical forest far from any kingdom The forest whispered his name. Kael had heard the stories. That deep in the heart of Elowyn Woods, a witch lived alone. They said she could make a man vanish with a sigh or give him strength enough to conquer kings. Kael didn’t believe in superstition. He believed in power. And he was desperate for it. The trees thickened around him as he walked, sunlight filtering through like golden threads. Moss cushioned his boots, and every shadow seemed to pulse with unseen energy. Still, he pressed on. Then he found it. A cottage—curved from the earth itself, its roof blooming with flowers that shimmered silver. Vines curled up its sides like protective serpents. A wooden door stood slightly ajar. He hesitated. Then entered. Inside, the air was warm and perfumed with something he couldn’t name. Herbs, yes—but also something primal. The room was filled with books and bottles, bones and crystals. Candles flickered though there was no breeze. “You came,” a voice said softly. He turned. She stood barefoot near the hearth, dark hair cascading down her back, eyes like storm clouds—swirling, unreadable. A simple gown clung to her curves as though it was grown onto her body. She moved closer, tilting her head. “You’re the witch?” Kael asked, voice rough. Her lips curved. “And you’re the man looking for more than the world allows.” He stiffened. “How do you know that?” “I read your pulse before you stepped inside,” she said. “It’s humming with want.” His jaw clenched. “I seek strength. Enough to destroy my enemies.” She circled him slowly, bare feet silent on stone. “And what would you give in return?” He turned to face her. “Anything.” She raised a brow. “Men say that. Then run.” “I won’t run.” “Good,” she whispered, pressing a finger to his chest. “Because my magic takes more than blood or coin.” He looked down at her finger—cool at first, then warming. “What then?” Her lips brushed his ear. “Willing surrender.” --- That night, the ritual began. She led him to a room filled with low light and strange symbols painted on the floor with shimmering ink. Incense curled upward like smoke from dreams. She motioned for him to stand in the center. “Strip.” Kael hesitated. Her eyes met his—calm, unblinking. She was in control, and he knew it. His fingers moved to the clasps of his tunic. One by one, layers dropped to the floor. She watched him with no shame, no lust—only purpose. When he stood bare, she circled again, trailing her fingers lightly over his skin. Where she touched, warmth flared. Not just arousal—magic. “You carry burdens,” she murmured, tracing a scar on his shoulder. “Many.” “I’ll burn them away. But only if you trust me.” “I do.” “Then kneel.” He sank to his knees. She walked behind him, and he heard the rustle of her gown falling. Her skin brushed his as she moved—soft, warm, and electric. Then she straddled him, thighs sliding against his hips, hands pressing to his chest. He sucked in a breath. Her touch was fire, not flame—but sensation. Every nerve awakened. She began to whisper in a tongue older than time. As she chanted, her hips rolled against his—slow, rhythmic, not yet sexual, but intensely intimate. Kael groaned. Not from lust alone, but from the feeling of being undone. She kissed his neck, murmuring, “Let go.” His control unraveled. Their bodies moved like mirrored flames, breath syncing, hearts pounding. Her hands glowed faintly, each caress branding him with invisible symbols. She took him into her fully—no rush, no violence—just an overwhelming sense of being claimed. Not just body. Soul. As they moved, the candles flared brighter. The symbols on the floor pulsed like stars. Her voice rose in a cry of ecstasy and power combined. He followed—falling, rising, consumed. When it ended, they collapsed together. Her head on his chest. His arms trembling. And on his skin, where her hands had danced, a mark glowed faintly—a sigil, etched by pleasure and power. She traced it gently. “You’re mine now,” she whispered. “And I—yours.” --- The next morning, the forest looked different. Greener. More alive. Kael stepped outside the cottage. He felt... changed. Stronger. Not just in body—but as if a fire had been lit inside his soul. The witch stood behind him, wrapped in a robe of deep violet. “You carry the mark,” she said. He turned. “Will it fade?” She smiled. “Never.” He touched the place where her magic had burned into him. “What if I return?” “You’ll burn again,” she said. “But this time... even brighter.” And then she vanished into the woods, leaving only the scent of her magic—and the memory of the night that changed everything. --- End of Part One

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