The meaning "an adherent of Wicca" (male or female) is due to Gerald Gardner's purported "Witch Cult", and now appears as a separate meaning of the word also in mainstream dictionaries. For example, Monier-Williams currently distinguishes four meanings of the noun witch,

1. One that is credited with usually malignant supernatural powers; especially: a woman practicing usually black witchcraft often with the aid of a devil or familiar: sorceress — compare warlock

2. An ugly old woman: hag

3. A charming or alluring girl or woman

4. A practitioner of Wicca

Preface

I squeezed  my eyes shut, focusing with every ounce of power that I had held within me. Solain, I thought to myself.

           Razor blades filled my air waves, scratching at the inside of my throat. I never truly understood why we were punished with such pain when using what was rightfully ours. It finished as quickly as it started, before any agnowiro[1] would notice.

My vision was greeted by frost-bitten surroundings; droplets had formed where heat had...Heat?  An amber spark landed on the tips of my shoulder. I turned, only to find the source. Fire...

  It was just me and the flames; dancing around so innocently. How could it be the one thing I thought I could rely on would destroy everything I held dear?

He was there, behind those fierce flames. The heat was unbearable. My throat was constricting, the pain piercing. Breathe, just breathe. I was not afraid, it felt like I was one with the fire- apart of the dancing flames: spinning, twirling, lifting my arms as if I could touch the stars themselves. With all my strength I reached out to him; Solain and I, floating in a rhythm of heart beats.  We were one. Entranced by the light surrounding us...

Slowly he began to fade, going back to the darkness whilst I was left stranded in the light. His fingertips traced the tips of my own, his perfect beryl eyes filled with tears.  The piercing returned as I realised this was the last time I would be allowed to feel his delicate touch, his warmth, him.

“Naidra… I… I love you.” His voice that was once so strong, was now nothing but a raspy whisper. He was so tired; his eyes no longer gleamed with life. His beautiful porcelain skin no longer shimmered in the twilight. Solain was dying. Being torn away from my life, from me.

He was so helpless against this evil. A tiny fly caught in this web of destruction. His lifeless fingers left mine, only to be replaced by darkness.

            My body trembled. I gasped for breath, grasping at my throat; there was no air. Why was there silence when I was screaming inside? I could bear it no longer. I let myself go…

            The thick intoxicating darkness began to fill my lungs, fill my body entirely. I drifted into an ocean, being carried along weightlessly by the water. I felt everything inside me begin to solidify; turning to stone.

So this is what death felt like.   

[1]  The Celtic word we use for human, meaning weak man

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Author guidance for This story

heyy, so the story is quite deep. It's going to be written from two perspectives, Naidra, a witch who is seeking the revenge of her soulmates murder... And Jasper, a 21st century witch hunter.
Their paths cross and although enemies, it becomes clear that the two have a connection.
However as the story unfolds, along with the pairs history, Naidra is left in torment.

I have a couple of idea's that I'm trying to pan out, I would love any suggestions and critics are always welcome. So I guess all that's left is enjoy (:

updated Aug 6 '09 by tillett