When the witches Sleep - Chapter I



At that hour of the afternoon, unyielding shadows dominated the lower facade of the house, it seemed as if they would cover it with solemn robes. The silent silence of the fields was slowly undoing, as the crescendo of insects announced the arrival of the night. The witch wrote, leaning on an oak chair, the knowledge of a lifetime. He had the diligence of the visionaries and those who await the final passage.

At that moment too, she watched in the distance, attentive and intrigued, the copper-colored horizon. By these bands, the lower clouds were dyed in various shades of color, carrying even more color as the darkness advanced. At one point, they saw the same faint rays bursting above the mountainous bastions and then disappearing into the mantle of the night. Delighted at what she was seeing, sometimes an apparent sloth took the course of writing. Thus he scribbled the paper freely, though by the skill of the craft ideas were not threatened, on the contrary, they were manufactured to each other.

Words and more words gave life to the mysterious writing, even if they, like tepid leaves, fell imprecise, wrinkled, and dead. They were at least used to fertilize the arid blank paper, when they did not turn into the lush foliage of the letters. Then the wind of the spirit, among the branches embroidered with ink, blew the agile and fruitful breeze, and it was possible even to hear, in the rustling of foliage, these sounds of the mute letters:

I was born by the orders that formed the world in the innumerable folds of time, a time in which the names of the kings figured as the greater law. Chained to fate as a tormented and restless being, she had a great hunger for life and in what is expressed in her as pain and pleasure. I came upon the powerful force of the magic that has transformed me inside and out, and in what I have become in this existence, with this human shell, a sorceress of fire and earth whose seed had come from the stars. I saw, before my fascinated eyes, what for most people could be an imponderable reality: on a moonless night, the city of angels appear with the brightness of the sun, to somehow, I believe, lend more nobility to the world of men.

I have, indeed, this world, the pain of so many others who have lost their loved ones. In my long life, my unforgettable companions, the heirs of the traditions that guard the primacy of Mother Earth and the Great Wolf. Everything, as I remember it, suddenly happened, when in the bosom of our brotherhood, which we called the Wolfhood, we were victims of the betrayal of one of our leaders ¾ Deirdhre Gridelim. Enabling the so feared inquisitors to prepare a trap in the vicinity of a village, passage to the secular city of Albi, southern France. Many were captured or killed, although a small group managed to escape the initial confrontation, returning to the Valley of Wolves, our home. On this return, a matriarch died and another of our sisters, named Itangra, decided not to follow in the same direction. If their fate had been better, we did not know for sure, for the inquisitors continued untiringly on our heels until they reached us in the Valley of the Wolves. For very little we were not captured. In this episode, two of my sisters, Lintra and Singra, in noble sacrifice, offered to remain there for the purpose of holding our pursuers to the maximum and granting the rest of the sorceress group a greater chance of escape.

The truth was that only six of us witch-witches were left free from the heavy hand of the secular inquisitors when we left forever for our beloved land. Finally, we still have a final setback at the moment when this small group of sorceresses had to divide: I, named Urtra, consecrated matriarch of the Sisterhood of the Wolf, followed, along with the girl Yalana, the way to the west; Cailantra, Virna, Urania, and the girl Isiandra took another direction, one more course to the north. Everything is described in the book Of Clarity and Shadows, rediscovered by me not long ago. I have re-read a good deal of its content and will continue reading to the end to recall all the events of that era of adventures and constant perils. This, while waiting to fulfill the promise that precedes, even the existence of the first letters of this important book, the mysterious person who will come to claim him as heir.

In my view, I have believed that I have fulfilled, as a major challenge, my part in the service of the old werewolves' order. And I am sure that I was fortunate enough to behold the face of forgotten gods who came to me frightened by the labors of men. And no less important, those who came from the celestial abyss, angels or demons, to give me power and reveal secrets about the origin of a part of humanity. However, I have not yet attained the wisdom of the ancient artisans of magic that could free me from incarnations in future lives, understanding their need in the continual improvement of my human imperfections. Today, at my early age, or so it seems to me, with the grace of these fallen angels, I feel a single great perplexity in the hours I look at the night sky. All by understanding that, somehow, the future is there, in the stars.