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Panic was running the people of Salem. There was a worldwide witch hunt, for something that shouldn't have existed, but did. The magic that everyone once wanted, was now being hunted. Now, that it might be a reality, people grew confused. They hunted for the unknown out of fear.
Living in Salem had been peaceful until the sranger had arrived. Liana had been shopping for her dinner when he rode in. The wind blew fiercely, his black coat billowed behind him. The stallion that he rode was midnight black. At a first look, she identified what he was; a demonic fake.
Salem had finally caught on to the witch panic. They had hired a witch hunter. Most were fake, but the way this one sent shivers down her spine was real. Fear set in her and she dropped the basket of vegtables she had been holding. Quickly she scooped them up before the stranger could see. She didn't posess such luck. Turning, he faced her to look her dead in the eyes. Goosebumps rose on her arms.
Remebering her manners, she muttered a good day, and left for home. Leaving for the forest would be the smartest thing to do now. Her mother had told her about these witch hunters.
Her aura wasn’t that strong, not yet. She would be safe. Liona had not cast magic yet, she would be under the radar. Keeping it a secret for long now would be impossible. Many young witches had found their demise that way; burned before they could learn how to use magic.
Many people innocent of witchcraft were convicted of course. Most of the villagers in her area that had dabbled in herbs had been accused. Vengeance was stalking their town. Anyone on the wrong side of a person in power was called a witch.
Liona knew of course that she would be called out. The only living survivor of an epidemic that had coursed through her mother’s home and town looked magical enough. The raven black hair that tumbled down her back and her bright green eyes were trademarks of the line of witches she had been born to.
When she was packing, she chanced upon her mother’s spell book. Just as she was pausing to admire it, the villagers burst in, holding iron chains. There was a brief expression of surprise on their faces before they began to chase her. Slamming the door to her basement, she budged it with a nearby broomstick.
Running over to her intricate rug, she pushed it back and opened the hatch to her trapdoor. Her mother had installed it years before so she could make visits to the forest for herbs without anyone raising suspension. Thanking her mother quietly she lowered herself and lowered the door with a silent click.
Hopefully, she would make it to the forest before they found the door. Maybe they wouldn’t find it at all. Pulling a candle from her pocket, she breathed upon it. Who knew her first magic would be performed as she was running for her life?
Hearing the uproar above her she quickened her pace. The news had got out. About now she would be below the tavern. Men’s footsteps hustled out the door. The forest was close. She arose from the trapdoor in the forest. Using her feet, she covered the weathered door with debris.
The moon shone bright above her. Voices were close and Liona started running. They villagers had found her.
