Breathless. Phantom pulse. Her heart embracing illusions, a craving powering her thoughts. How could it be? A spell cast upon her, the caster knowing not what they'd done Witchcraft, to it she must resort, a potion for love, for her love to drink deep. Lips to her chalice, incense and crystal reflections forever together, the cauldron spilling passion. ©October 2021 Christina Anne Hawthorne
Christina Anne Hawthorne
Alive and well in the Rocky Mountains. I'm a fantasy writer who also dabbles in poetry, short stories, and map making. My Ontyre tales are an alternative fantasy experience, the stories rich in mystery, adventure, and romance. Alternative fantasy? Not quite steampunk. Not quite gothic. In truth, the real magic is in those who discover what's within.
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