The Witches Trap
A white light falls over Tasmania, like the webbing of a million spiders, protecting, shining, turning to silver beneath the light of a waxing moon powered by every witch near and far. From across Australia, they gathered in Zoom, by phone and by word-of-mouth. They combined their magic with their Tasmanian sisters under siege before they woke Millie.
With at least a week of battle ahead of them, the principal of the twin’s high school, a one Molly Fougnut, scryer extraordinaire and active member of the coven, cleared the way. She made certain no-one would contact their parents about absences, but secretly worried what she would, or could, do if Sandra showed up. In the utilities closet in her office was an obsidian mirror, and for those times of panic, she kept a black bowl full of water to maintain a connection to the coven, and an amethyst crystal sphere.
She needn’t have worried. Sandra, or the beast within, had been psychically pounding against the coven’s shields since 5-am.
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