Heal The Scribe.
No.
Alas, that would be to choke my own voice, something I would never do. A broken mind is the easiest to control. I’m a witch, not an angel.
Does it move me, to see her suffer? I throw the question back at you.
A witch is a sensitive creature, with more senses than the average mortal. Different eyes, ears and fingertips, a fluid soul that moves easily between realms. I am even more so, having chosen to draw my sustenance from the earth, as I did. I have been root and spiralling tendril, I have shared my borders with the darkest earth. I have felt photosynthesis, joined in its magical circle, linking hands, with no eyes to see, no ears to hear its silent thrum. What other witch can claim this?
Another difference, you will find nothing organic in my dark cauldron, nothing of the earth. There is no evil in it, no dark spell can overpower its simple purity. How many creatures dead and dried for nothing? I have tried to tell them, but who listens to me?
All my darkest spells are cast with manmade materials, you have been weaving your ugliness into your work for centuries. My curses are quiet, no need to make them known, even. I am connected to the earth, literally. Who can escape me?
I do like to heal. Just not in a ‘wiccan’ way. I have nothing to do with my kind.
I have nothing to do with your kind, unless I catch you open. I have to do with things you crush underfoot, things you prune and shape for your own purposes, things you poison. I hear words in the wind, I know the god of storms intimately, I know what the devil actually feels like.
When I craft a good spell, and I do, I call to the leaves and flowers I have dried, I ask the seed to give its life for my sake, for a reason I have deemed worthy. I am trusted by my chosen gifts, they are happy to loose their power in my cause.
Remember, all things must balance. As my good spells take effect they create a debt that must be paid. I must cast an equal number of bad spells to satisfy the powers that give me my powers. To satisfy the Universe. As the good ones work, so the bad ones are guaranteed to work, to even things out. A victim doesn’t even have to know, this is why I am a silent witch.
I have my coven, I need no associates, no help from his majesty, I have no Dark Lord, he is a redundancy. My dark forces are my own, they obey me for reasons we keep between us. You might say I am a natural gardener, but the truth is that I am a natural garden.
Will I entangle you?
Slowly.
“Conjuring Storms” by Ekaterina Shelehova Quite sure He would come for this.