Page 5 of A Circle of Uncommon Witches

(The Blessing Trials)

There was once a complete history and knowledge of spells given to all witches as their birthright. It started with a handfasting.

When witches came of age (exactly what age was determined by their particular coven), they completed a ceremony where they were bound with the knowledge of the ancestors and the history of their magic; the bridging of this connection was witnessed by the village. However, time has a way of changing how things are done, though time might argue people have a way of changing laws and they therefore change everything.

The binding of magic to witches changed because of the latter. More specifically, due to avarice.

Avarice Maoileanach was a greedy man. He came of age in a time when great battles were fought, and power was the ultimate conquest. It was a time not unlike this one. There are always loopholes in magic. Things meant to be safety measures that inevitably are perverted by entitled mediocre men, typically, and set by the powers that be to test witches and determine whether they have become too greedy. Avarice was aptly named, and he was the downfall of magic.

In the beginning, magic was plentiful. It grew on the vine, like wisteria or grapes or honeysuckle. You only had to create your offering to draw more in. A bit of blood and hair, a few wistful and poetic words, a gust of wind and fire and you’d be right as rain. Magic was used to create, to bring art and peace into the world, to aid in the growth of community for the better. It was a gift from the Ultimate Powers and was not meant to destroy.

But Avarice wanted more. Of everything. To ensnare his enemies, enslave those he desired, to rule everyone and everything.

The Ultimate Powers did not need the competition in the form of an overzealous and maniacal male witch. They saw through him and decided to offer him a trial… of sorts. If he could complete the challenges they set forth, he would gain the power to transform himself.

The trials lasted for thirteen days and thirteen nights. Avarice was taken through the door of truth, into the Forest of Forgetting, and beyond to the lost city of words.

The trials were a measure of courage, heart, strength, and cunning. To complete them, the champion must free the heart from the stone, find the lost story of love, wake the slumbering giant, and sacrifice what matters most to break the curse.

He did not pass a single trial.

Avarice lost his magic and his power, and whatever the gods saw in him angered them enough that they took back half of their power from the witches of the world. No longer would there be handfasting to the ancestors’ truth and power. A history of magic was lost, the knowledge returned to its source. Witches had to write down their spells lest they lose them, creating the first of the grimoires. Magic flowed from line to line, but sparingly, like a sprinkle from a failing rain cloud instead of a gush from a geyser.

Over time, the trials were largely forgotten. Only a single witch succeeded at discovering and completing them.

Ada Rose made a choice. It was a selfish one, and a selfish choice is often any witch’s undoing. For when you choose to go against the rule “and harm none,” you undo magic in the world as it was meant to be.

The gods guarded the trials with the utmost care, for one never knew what could happen if such power landed in the wrong hands. Witches carried on recording their magic, and new powers grew on the vine, daring and different—and waiting for the right time to strike.

But power is always waiting, and it would only take one stubborn witch to set it free.