Battle of Smoke and Magic

When the worlds were molten, and violence reigned, there was only Smoke and Light. They battled for control of the universe and the souls of the creatures that grew within them. Smoke would take a victory only to be extinguished by the Light. For eons, this battle raged until a creature rose up, embraced the magic within itself, and was able to create a spell that held the Smoke inside a prison made of blood, sweat, magic, and bone. Smoke crept through the cracks of the prison and infected the hearts of Man, but mostly, the Light held control over the land. 

Until the creatures started to change, they bucked the magic and hunted those who refused to follow their new ways. As the years passed, more magic was lost, fewer Witches were born, and Smoke’s prison grows weaker by moment. 

The man opened the door to the sedan to allow his wife to step out of the car. She smiled at him; her sapphire eyes sparkled under the yellow street light--- full of magic and love. She brushed her auburn hair away from her gorgeous face. He had loved his partner for over three hundred years, and he still couldn’t imagine a moment in life without her. 

The woman placed her gloved hand on her husband’s striking face. His violet eyes glowed at her touch, and his full mouth curved into a smile. His inky hair blew around his shoulders in the light wind. She loved her partner because he was the Witch that called to her soul. There would never be another for either of them. 

As the rest of their small coven arrived, they gathered their strength and watched the sun slowly make its way into slumber. It lit the sky in a lullaby of abundant colors---purple, yellow, orange. The man held the woman tight as the moon rose to take its rightful place in the sky. 

“The moon will aid in our magic tonight.” The man whispered into his lover’s ear. 

“Aye, darling, the moon is strong and as fierce as we are.” The woman kissed him gently on his lips. 

“Do you think we will be able to hold the evil back one more year?” The man peered out onto the rough dark lake as the moon came to shine its light up them all. 

“Aye, we haven’t a choice, my love. We must hold it back.”

They gathered the four Witches to calm the explosive year. The Smoke had flowed deep and well through the hearts of men. The Witches were once an abundant source of power globally, but now so few gathered on the beaches around the world. These four stood together as they had for hundreds of years to do their part in protecting all humankind.

They lit the fire on the shores and stood together as they chanted. The Witches called their power from the Earth, the air, the fire, and the water as the black Smoke eked its way onto the sand.

The Witches howled as the Smoke screamed in a vicious tornado of fire and wind. They chanted, and they held together as a unit while the Smoke slashed at them, trying to break free. The Smoke hissed, screamed, and struck out with its claws. The Witches held and chanted, ignoring the blood that oozed from hundreds of cuts. The Witches never wavered; they never stopped. 

The Smoke took a humanoid shape inside the fire and hissed. “Your power is fading, Witches. You will not win in the long run. This world is on edge and will belong to me.”

The Witches never engaged; the Smoke simply continued to chant and hold together. They knew that the Smoke was right, they were fighting a losing battle, but they had been entrusted with keeping the world safe from the Smoke. 

A storm blew in from off the lake, drenching them. Lighting struck the sand, and thunder boomed. When the Earth quaked, and the waves rumbled, the Witches held, and Smoke screamed. 

Power vibrated through the Witches as the magic flowed from their bodies into the fire before them. Their chants turned into a melodious song that sang through the night wind. Four voices turned into hundreds as the Witches fortified the seal on Smoke's bone prison.

In a torrent of curses and claws, the Smoke dissipated back into the Earth, where it would wait and leech its power into the hearts of man until it could try once again to coat the land in darkness. If it ever got free, it would be a rampant plague upon the world and destroying them all. 

The Witches held the Smoke in prison one more year.

The full moon on Samhain bathed the pitch-black night in blue light. The wind howled off the shores of Lake Erie as the dark cloaked figure stood around the embers of a long dying fire. She pulled the hood away from her flushed cheeks and soaked in the turbulent night air. 

They had once again saved the world from wicked evil, as they had every Samhain night for hundreds of years. None of the humans were wise to how lucky they were to have the Witches watching over them. The humans burned them, hung them, and chased them to the ends of the Earth, but still, the Witches met here once a year to chase away the darkness. Should the Witches miss their Samhain ritual even once, the world would fall to the Smoke snuffing out all the light and love. 

The man walked up behind her and rested his head upon her shoulder. “My love, it’s too cold out here for the babe. It’s time to rest.” 

The woman brushed her hand down the mound of her stomach, where the next Witch grew. “ When it’s his turn, do you think he will be able to keep the Smoke at bay?” 

The man smiled as he turned her around. “You and I have made the next generation of Witch, my love. He will hold this world together. I promise.”  

Exhausted, the Witches walked back to their cars as the moon give way to the sun in a vibrant turbulent flame of colors---purple, pink, and yellow. 

Blessed Be.