Whispers of the Past

By Shawna Hunter

A coven of college witches heads into the woods on Halloween night.

They go intending to contact the ancient spirits who can help them unlock the power to make their dreams come true and they succeed.

The wisdom of the past, however, comes at a price and the coven soon learns that failing to recognize what one

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kingston Publishing Company
• Release date: Nov 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9781645334705

Book preview

Copyright

Whispers of the Past is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

WHISPERS OF THE PAST: A NOVEL

Copyright © 2023 by Shawna Hunter

All rights reserved.

Cover design by KP Designs

- www.kpdesignshop.com

Published by Kingston Publishing Company

- www.kingstonpublishing.com

The uploading, scanning, and distribution of this book in any form or by any means—including but not limited to electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the permission of the copyright holder is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized editions of this work, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Table of Contents

Copyright

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Extras

About the Author

Also by the Author

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

Forests have been on this Earth far longer than man. Once, long ago, they sheltered man’s ancestors until men had grown enough to strike out on their own. Seeing that men were ready to stand and make their own way in the world, the forests began to recede and give men space to grow. Like any good teacher, however, they never stopped watching their charge.

They watched as men bent stone to our purposes. They provided the wood for fires that shaped bronze, iron, and steel. They fell to give rise to man’s cities, and yet, they still sheltered men as they delved into the darker mysteries of this world.

Magic. Few remember that it was the forests who birthed it. The legends speak of elves and fairies, but it was not these flights of fancy. It was the trees themselves and the shadows they cast. Humans, in our hubris, forgot this truth. We imagined spirits and sprites, demons and gods all with human faces and human motives to explain away the mysteries. Stories told to calm those haunted by the whispers they heard in the forests at night. Whispers most of mankind had long since learned to ignore, for they spoke of a power far beyond that of the human world, and what does man fear if not a power greater than himself?

There are a those, however, who still have ears willing to listen and hearts willing to accept the wisdom of the forest. They go by many names: sorcerers, magicians, wizards, enchantresses, and witches, but none of those names is truly correct. Each path towards the mysteries is born of only a fraction of the truth and only a few of the whispers. Like all human endeavors, the magic explored by these half-hearing practitioners is tainted by what they no longer understand. Like the child who does not heed the nursemaid’s tales, they have forgotten the most important lessons of the forest. Though the trees remember, and on special nights, they may remind men of what they have forgotten to fear.

***

Come on Nightshadow, Moonbane whined as the taller girl tripped over her spiked heels for the dozenth time. No one in the coven understood why such a beanstalk of a girl would seek to add to her height. Maybe it just made her feel better than the rest of them. Whatever the reason, it slowed her down on the rough terrain and, as she was needed for the ritual, it slowed the rest of the group as well.

It’s not my fault, Nightshadow grumbled as she brushed the leaves and dirt from her new black dress, you guys didn’t tell me we were going so far off the trail.

Duh, Panathea rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips to chastise their most junior sister, it’s a sacred Sabbath; you can’t exactly have it on some manicured, city-made trail.

Well you could have mentioned proper footwear in your e-vite, Nightshadow fired back.

You could always take your shoes off, Moonbane pointed out, we’re meant to be communing with the ancient spirits, after all. I’m pretty sure they didn’t wear plastic heels from Hot Topic in ancient times.

Yeah, they wore sandals like these, Panathea added as she pulled up her ankle length skirt to show off her J-Crew gladiator sandals for the hundredth time that day.

Oh please, Moonbane fired back, they didn’t have Chinese sweatshop workers making their shoes in ancient times.

You’re one to talk. You’re wearing freaking Crocs! The two girls squared off, almost forgetting Nightshadow whose head sank into her shoulders in the face of the confrontation. Moonbane and Panathea always got like this when they were together, and without someone to shift their focus, it would get far worse.

I, uh, guys? I don’t want to go barefoot, Nightshadow stammered, I, um, might step on something.

Oh, like it would matter, Moonbane turned to stare up at her once more, it would take the pain signals like a year to reach your head. In her mundane life Moonbane was an undergrad with aspirations of becoming a neurosurgeon. How she imagined that would work out with a biology degree from community college Nightshadow had no idea, but, then again, they were all dreamers. Nightshadow herself was in the theater program. Although, she’d never confess it to her coven sisters, she hoped that she’d one day be discovered by a modeling agency. Maybe then her lanky height and small chest would finally become an advantage.

Moonbane would scoff at that daydream just as Nightshadow scoffed at her medical career.

Don’t be such a smartypants all the time, Panathea spat as she half-assedly came to Nightshadow’s defense. Of the four coven sisters Nightshadow had the most in common with Panathea. A fashion major with a slight vanity problem, she’d done both costume design and hair and make-up for the theater program more than once. Nightshadow loved how beautiful Panathea could make her when she wasn’t being all catty. Tonight, however, she was out in the woods just a little after midnight, and she clearly hadn’t gotten enough sleep beforehand. That, combined with Moonbane's presence, was sucking all the sweetness out of Panathea’s demeanor.

Whatever, where is Silvanth anyway? Zi said zi would meet us a half mile east of the trail. Moonbane had pulled out her phone during the argument, and now she was anxiously clicking at it. Silvanth was the leader of their coven. Zi was studying history with an eye to folklore and ran the college’s Wicca club which zi had used to recruit the three others. Zi had inspired each by claiming that only they had any real power, but Nightshadow had seen through that ploy. She’d only joined because zi was an androgynous cutie with a knack for giving advice. 

Gods, it’s always east with zir, Panathea crossed her arms with a huff but Nightshadow could see that it was all a show. The other woman wasn’t sulking, she was cold. Her scandalously low-cut dress was clearly not suited to the night air. Nightshadow’s own dress wasn’t much better, but at least it was up at her shoulders and made of a thicker fabric.

Well zi is the guardian of the East, Nightshadow pointed out, if I were setting a meeting for a ritual, then I’d probably set it in the North, just like Panathea would in the West or you would…

I know my damn corners, Nightshadow, Moonbane shouted. She too must have been freezing with her toga style dress hanging off of one shoulder. 

Please speak more softly, sister, a lyrical voice sang