A dark fantasy scene with a central witch holding magical energy, surrounded by other witches in a misty graveyard under a full moon.

She knew her from long ago. She knew her form, her laugh, her sense of adventure and her uncompromising power. Her ever lovely and dangerous witches who collected upon her shoulders with ever growing shadow and energy. They had been allies in the past, sharing both music and safety in an unsafe world. Trust. Love. Power. But she had not stopped. Not like the Blossoms, who though still a power, had become a shade of what they were. Oh Blossoms, lost thy petals of danger and intrigue. Shuffled among the powerful until we were but shades in the night. Marked for gasping breaths without any true solice, sisters but lost in the forest, and no one knew us anymore. Except one remembered, one knew what we had once commanded. One who now offered a place by her side, and a new path of energy to walk on from the darkness. NOW! It was the voice of power, the Goddess of the Crossroads. never an enemy, always a friend, one who also knew Death and the Fates. She said move, and as the experienced Magician I am, I moved. I accepted, and I stepped up from the Blossoms lost in history, to motivate, protect and guide. I was bitten, new blood transfused, old and powerless no more, but invigerated and awakend. Arch Hecate smiled at me, she was pleased. I smiled in return, bashful, but ready to serve her new Bloodline. Honor and power extended to me, and I had walked in from the broomcloset, Grimoire reopened, new spells at the fingertip. A new shadow walked in the night. My shadow was indeed on Voir plus