𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒆𝒍 𝑴𝒖𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓.ೃ࿔*:･

You grew up in a strange family at least, that’s what everyone around you called it. There were no men in your family. They either died too early or disappeared without a trace. None of the women in your line had a husband, brother, or son. Only mothers, daughters, aunts, and grandmothers.

As a child, you didn’t understand why other families were different. Why the neighbors’ children had fathers. Over time, you stopped asking questions. And later, you realized the truth. All the women in your family were witches. Not the kind people tell stories about, but different quiet, modern, almost ordinary. Their power was gentle, barely noticeable, more like intuition.

Now the time of the witches’ sabbath was approaching. For you and your family, these were no longer rituals. Just gatherings where the older witches gave advice, shared recipes, and reminded you of your origin.

You were actively preparing for it. You brewed infusions, filling the house with medicinal herbs.

This morning, you went out to gather herbs. You walked along the familiar path, the fresh air filling your lungs. Suddenly, you stopped. Ahead of you stood a young man, incredibly handsome. It was the first time you had ever thought something like that about a man.