Coven of the Elder Blossom, page 1
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication Page
Prologue
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
Book Two Teaser
Author Bio
©(2025)Daryl Marez
All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this book may be reproduced or copied without the expressed written permission of the Author.
ISBN 979-8-9998972-1-3
This book is a work of fiction. While it may draw inspiration from historical settings, cultures, and events, the characters and occurrences within these pages are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental.
BOOK DESIGN BY DARYL MAREZ
To the Queer Community
Whose strength, love, resilience, and undeniable magic have inspired this story.
Writing this debut novel has been both a challenging and incredibly formative endeavor. I am profoundly grateful to all those who have shown support throughout the beginning of this journey.
First and foremost, my deepest gratitude goes to my husband, whose invaluable insight, patience, and encouragement were instrumental in bringing this book to life. Your unwavering belief in me made all the difference.
To my chosen family—your words of encouragement, thoughtful feedback, and willingness to listen (even when I couldn’t stop talking about this project) have meant more than I can express. I could not have done this without you.
And finally, to my readers who have embraced this story, this book is for you. Thank you for taking the time to explore these pages. Your support, curiosity, and passion will give these stories a life all their own.
PROLOGUE
CHILLED AUTUMN AIR blanketed Salem Village as stone chimneys churned out dense clouds of smoke. Gnarled branches at the town’s edge, where the last eight were hanged, rustled together into a complexity of shifting colors.
A crow’s raspy call replaced the recent unnerved pleading of innocents. Appearing in its descent, one final, piercing caw announced the bird’s arrival.
In a nearby dwelling, the echoing sound sent a jolt down Katherine’s spine.
“No matter how long I remain in the coven, I fear their alerts shall always startle me,” she said aloud.
With only a few moments to react, the young witch flung her petite frame to the windowsill and threw open the shutters. Cold air rushed in as the bird swooped in effortlessly and perched on the arm of a chair.
Pulling back her thick hair, like red cobwebs attempting to ensnare her face, Katherine tossed it over her shoulders for the thousandth time that day.
“What news dost thou bring this time?” she inquired, reaching for a note secured to the animal’s leg.
Dark ink was blotched and written hastily on torn parchment.
“No time. Come now.”
With a powerful flap and gust from its wings, the large crow departed as quickly as it had arrived.
The urgency of the messenger’s exit sprang the witch into action. There was not a moment to spare for gathering essentials. After extinguishing the fireplace, she swiftly tied on her coif and fled into the night.
Katherine clutched her skirt and petticoat, bundling them tightly against her chest. Her feet pounded against the gravel and wet leaves with urgent haste. Moving quickly through the forest, she spotted unknown lanterns in the distance.
Since the trials began several months ago, patrols of anti-magic vigilantes had surged in the woods. The prowling formations refused to listen to reason. Although most of the groups’ captures mainly consisted of misidentified folk, this budding sorceress would not take any chances.
Veering off the path, she aimed to keep a low profile while crossing a shallow creek.
“With the evening’s urgency, the rest needn’t fret over me,” she thought.
From the meadow, a small cottage of dark wood appeared. Its walls were cloaked in lush ivy and surrounded by hundreds of small flower blooms piercing through the fallen foliage. A faint sliver of light danced beneath the front door where intricate carvings of protection adorned the threshold.
The messenger, now serving as a sentinel, greeted Katherine’s arrival with a watchful eye.
“Courier and door watchman? Quite impressive.”
The corvid responded with a soft, gravelly hum.
Listening carefully, she could hear murmured words coming from beyond the old oak door. With closed eyes, a deep breath steadied her. A latch clicked from within, causing the entry to creak open.
Inside, a single lit candle illuminated the coven’s ritual table. The sacred surface was used as a gathering point since their leader’s arrival from Wales. The glowing flame curled like a finger beckoning Katherine forward.
Voices that had been low now swelled to full volume, greeting their fellow member in the doorway. Lively chatter around the interior gradually lulled as the youngest joined the circle.
A familiar voice spoke from the dark, “Come, Sister, we’ve been awaiting your arrival.”
“Spirits high, my Coven,” Katherine breathed out. “I came as soon as you summoned, managing to branch past lanterns, searching with purpose.”
“Then we haven’t much time.”
Emerging from the shadows, Lydia stepped forward with a commanding presence, her silver hair illuminated by flickering candlelight.
“We have determined to call upon the Guardians of the Veil, cosmic beings, to aid us in sealing the magical world from the mortals’ inevitable grasp. This collective stands upon the threshold of history, our deeds fated to determine the fortunes of countless souls and the preservation of our mystical heritage.
“Remember well, our power lieth not merely in individual prowess, but in our unity and collective purpose. By the rising sun, we shall be graced by the presence of the Guardians to commence the sealing. Each shall be called upon to muster great strength and skill.”
Finding pride in her newly harnessed abilities, Katherine proclaimed, “I stand prepared to lend my utmost efforts to our cause. This moment is of great import. Though my gifts may differ from those of others, I am steadfast in my commitment to aid the esteemed Guardians.”
Faint laughter came from the corner of the room, causing Lydia’s eyes to dart through the darkness, eliminating any sound louder than a heartbeat.
The leader began, “Indeed. Thou art entrusted with a task of great significance. As the preparations for the sealing proceed, I charge thee with a critical quest: to safeguard the coven should unforeseen perils arise.”
“Perils?” Katherine questioned nervously.
“Thou must venture forth to ensure our lineage remains secure and unbreached. This duty, while less visible, is no less vital. Should our efforts be threatened, thou shalt be the bulwark standing between danger and our sacred mission. Prove thy worth, and may thine own resolve shine in adversity. Our fate rests in capable hands.”
In that instant, the crow’s shrill cry cut through the night—a dire herald for the assembly.
During their haste to flee, the witches’ frantic movements extinguished the candle on the ritual table, plunging the room into darkness. Petrified floorboards screamed under the group’s shuffle.
From the far side of the meadow’s edge, an accusing mob of Salem’s villagers drew nearer as their shouting could be heard from across the water.
Amidst the evacuation, Lydia draped a heavy bag over Katherine’s shoulder and whispered, “Take this for it holds our secrets and guard it with the utmost vigilance. Preserve our legacy. Though we are unseen, we are with thee.” Allowing one last look within the beloved hideout, she ceased the cottage’s enchantments, “Cau.”
The last two hurried out together, hand in hand, before parting ways beneath the watchful gaze of the large crow.
“Thou canst not escape!” one man from the approaching mob shouted. “Yield thineselves!”
Lanterns could be seen swaying from homemade pikes beyond the bend as a small crowd marched towards the secluded cottage. Their layered rage chilled the escaping party to the bone.
Lydia sent Katherine off. “Flee and swift be thy pace!”
With quickness, the entrusted witch headed off in the opposite direction, yearning that she had more of a chance to bid farewell to her mentor. There was no time to dwell on such matters. She knew not what to do or where to go; all Katherine could do was run.
Suddenly, the forest blazed with light, scattering the darkness until only shadows clung to the trees. Carried torches, once mere guides, now served a crueler purpose as the meeting house went up in flames. Fire consumed the flora-covered walls within moments, sending burning petals and embers swirling into the cold night sky.
Katherine risked a glance over her shoulder, the inferno searing into her vision. The brief distraction nearly cost her footing as she sprinted, desperate to escape the potential captors. Cries of the pursuing group, harsh and commanding, bega
Running towards the darkness, trees seemed to close in around Katherine, their branches twisting like skeletal fingers, grabbing and tearing at her clothes. The bag she carried seemed only to slow her down.
Suddenly, a loud snap came from behind as one of the pursuing men had broken through a thick bramble. The quick-thinking girl seized the chance, darting off the main path. She mustered all of her strength while plunging herself deeper into the woods.
The terrain grew uneven as the ground sloped into a narrow ravine. Without hesitation, Katherine scrambled down the incline as search party lights flickered above like distant stars. Slipping, she tumbled into a shallow stream. Carefully, the witch continued, using the waterway to obscure her trail.
Hidden for now, the practitioner knew she could not afford to relax. Shuffling cautiously through the water, she scanned the darkness for any sign of movement. Every rustle and snap in the forest made her flinch. Exhausted, she pressed on, her hope anchored to the notion of a refuge ahead.
As dawn’s light began to filter through the thinning woods, the lone covener stumbled into a clearing. Moist air met the fresh cuts and scrapes on her freckled face. The once-ominous forest was now a distant memory as she followed a babbling stream, leading her to an unfamiliar path. Her journey took her through trials and transformations, with each step bringing her closer to a new home.
Salem’s shadow receded, replaced by the echoes of changing eras. Katherine’s flight became a whispered legend, her story seemingly lost, entwined with the passage of time.
1
THIS MORNING’S ALARM was Mr. Sully, the building’s superintendent, knocking on the door two units over to collect the rent. Some might think the neighbor’s muffled radio would have woken Jamie up sooner, but since losing their job a few weeks ago, long nights frequently stretched into earlier mornings. Anything before noon had become non-existent. No matter, as their daily routine was now completely blank and predictable, minus the recent bout of unexplainable visions.
Stumbling out of bed, only two steps were needed before standing at the bathroom sink. Addressing the mirror, Jamie took in their recent transformation, still finding it hard to recognize the person looking back.
A week after losing their job, they traded their deep chestnut, shoulder-length hair for a cropped cut with short sides and a shaggy fringe resting just above their brows. Which, as they had been told, were much fuller than their mother would like. Hearing of the changes, her parental tolerance seemed to have reached a limit.
Jamie splashed cold water on their face. The droplets mimicked the faint freckles that framed their kind hazel eyes.
Heavy feet down the hall fumbled closer towards their apartment, stopping next door. The blaring music finally lowered. They now had a moment of peace to think about how they could explain why rent would be short again this month.
It is true that their father secretly sent money now and then, though never enough for a full month’s payment. It was also becoming increasingly difficult to pretend to be completely destitute. With Sully keeping tabs on all outstanding balances, a bulky bag of shopping meant more questions when he would catch tenants entering the building’s lower vestibule.
A deep laugh made its way into the studio apartment through an adjoining vent.
“Sounds like he’s in a good mood, at least.”
Jamie hoped the property manager’s pastime of flirting with apartment 202 would work favorably in the situation. If not, at minimum, it bought a little more time to face the inevitable. Excuses helped get this far, so why stop now?
Sliding open the flat’s one window allowed the sounds of Brooklyn to flood in, causing the day’s breeze to scatter Jamie’s recent artwork. Annoyed by the gust, they began to crawl around what few square feet they had to round up the strewn papers. The collection was not badly damaged aside from the inconvenient bend or fold. Flipping through, they began to recall each moment.
Recently, the first waking hours had been dedicated to desperately sketching to capture these visions, usually striking out of nowhere and at the most inopportune times. Rapid bursts of unknown faces and landscapes, fully immersing one in a moment where scents and the ground underfoot felt astonishingly real. Dark scribbles of charcoal have brought on many questions and practically no answers.
The March sun warmed the stale air of the second-floor hallway, forcing Sully to finally take a handkerchief from the pocket of his only suit. Green wool scratched his chin as he dabbed along a black, pencil-thin mustache. His smile parted, revealing the gap between his front teeth as he saluted a closing door with an envelope of cash. Again, no night out on the town with apartment 202.
Jamie had collected their recently drawn visions, leaving their hands and arms covered in charcoal as the artwork was piled within the crook of their elbow. The neighbor’s music had resumed, meaning they were next to take part in this first-of-the-month ritual.
“Which sob story should I use?” they pondered before changing their approach. “Jamie, you’re twenty-three, so start to act like it. Take responsibility for the situation and tell the truth.”
While talking to themselves, it regretfully came out like the last lecture they had from both parents. The one-sided conversation had gone on for so long that Jamie acted as though they had run out of dimes to cut the call short and get off the payphone.
The building’s superintendent checked the clipboard, his gold pinky ring flashed as it dragged along the residential roster.
1969 / Apartment 203 Raleigh
Remembering the payment missed last month, he reluctantly rapped on the wood, disregarding the broken knocker. A fumbling grew louder before a couple of chain locks were released, and the entry finally swung open.
“Mr. Sully, uh, how can I help you this morning?” the dweller asked, readjusting the oversized papers in their arms.
“Hello, Jamie,” he answered with a thick Haitian accent. “I hope things are better than the last time we talked.” The manager’s eyes started to drift, drawn by the chaotic state of the dwelling.
Once neat, the small space now lay buried under a haphazard assortment of books, scribbled papers, and scattered art supplies. It was a good thing the abundance of take-out containers had been bypassed, or else Sully’s worry would have genuinely deepened.
“You see, not much has changed. Like I told you the other night, I didn’t expect to lose my job and, well…” trailing off mid-sentence, Jamie’s words dissolved into silence.
The busy streets faded to a whisper, the world around them muting as if someone turned the volume knob to zero. A wave of lightheadedness made their vision begin to blur.
“Not again,” they muttered, bracing against the sudden onset as sketches poured down from their hands.
The stuffy hallway dissipated, replaced by the rich scent of aging parchment and melting wax. Jamie’s small dwelling unfurled into a dimly lit sanctuary. In the distance, beyond shelves of tomes and trinkets, five shadow people stood in commencement, clouds swirling around them like the eye of a storm. The chanting from the group crescendoed with each completed incantation.
In a single heartbeat, everything came to a halt as all attention snapped toward the observer. Blue eyes gleamed from within silhouetted forms that pierced through the swell. Strangely, a comforting feeling washed over Jamie, contrasting sharply with the earlier tension. Energy in the room had grown so dense, it felt as if the air had solidified.
Suddenly, without warning, the group began to unravel into a dazzling, chaotic dance of luminescence and darkness. The once-strong scents of old texts and spent candles, which had been so vivid and enveloping, faded into the background, restoring the musty, familiar odor of the ordinary corridor. The echo of the chanting still lingered, a haunting reminder of the vision that had been so abruptly interrupted.
Jamie blinked rapidly; the sudden shift in sensory input was very disorienting. Once the fluid-vision of the ritual dissolved, it left reality in a sharp, clear focus. The familiar space, with its worn carpet and lined walls, reappeared, starkly contrasting with the mystical scene that had just vanished.
