Twisted : The Witch Trials

Chapter 1 : Eula

My name is Eula Silverwood, the second-born child of Edward Silverwood and the eldest of Isabel Snow. And I am a witch.

You might imagine that being a witch would entail a life brimming with enchantment and wonder, an existence steeped in magical adventures. But the reality was far from magical; instead, it was a constant yearning for the freedoms enjoyed by humans.

In our world, the use of magic for personal gain was strictly forbidden, particularly in public. Our powers were tightly regulated, confined to clandestine practices in preparation for the looming specter of the witch trials.

We were naught but vessels of arcane might in the eyes of Eden society, a society ruled by vampires who held dominion over the occult realm. At the age of twenty-one, every witch was summoned by the Edenic council to partake in the witch trials – yet, unlike the grim spectacles of history, these trials no longer ended in persecution and flames. Instead, they had evolved into a perilous game, where witches were hunted.

Only during the witch trials were witches granted total freedom in defending themselves. Yet, the objective was not for a vampire to slay you, but to claim you with a bite. Once claimed, you'd be bound to that vampire until death do you part. This was often referred to as the weave or the bond.

No witch could evade this fate; even my parents had both been woven, though my father was now freed from his bond. The vampire he was paired with had met his end, granting my father the liberty to live out the remainder of his days unbounded, as a mark of respect for the fallen vampire.

My mother remains bound to her vampire, a pureblood whom we address as Master Scarlett. Vicious and cruel like most vampires, she keeps my mother on a tight leash, her presence rarely gracing our home. Fortunately, her influence within Eden society was minimal.

The hierarchy of vampires is straightforward: thralls occupy the lowest rung, though still esteemed above witches and lycanthropes. Transformed from humans into vampires, they possess strength only under the cover of night; in daylight, they are no mightier than humans. Incapable of claiming a witch, they abstain from participating in the witch trials.

Next are the Dhampir, born of both vampire and human lineage, stronger than thralls and impervious to the sun's rays. While they possess the ability to claim a witch, it's typically prohibited. However, exceptions can be made in rare instances where their vampire lineage is noble.

Purebloods comprise the majority, constituting roughly half of the vampire population. Born to two vampire parents, they hold the option to partake in the witch trials if they so desire.

Then come the Noble vampires, hailing from at least three generations of pureblood ancestry. They represent the elite, wielding considerable influence within Edenic society. Bound by tradition, they are pressured to maintain a witch in their service at all times.

Lastly, the Regals stand atop the hierarchy. If the nobles pull the strings, the Regals dance upon them. Scarce and typically found within tightly-knit clans, they exclusively hunt and bond with the most powerful of witches – often the last standing in a trial, or those who have endured multiple trials.

Which brings me back to current events, my sister Yrie and I lounged together in our family's quaint cottage.
Yrie was my elder by a mere year, and she possessed an otherworldly beauty—her cascading locks of pale blonde hair framed icy grey eyes, with streaks of emerald green adorning her right eye alone. In contrast, I inherited my mother's sun-kissed complexion, along with raven-black locks and unremarkable brown eyes.

She was lost in thought, her gaze drifting over the tangled greenery of our neglected garden. Meanwhile, I flipped through the pages of an old grimoire, the musty scent of ancient knowledge filling the room.