Cheyenne Mitchell

“My heels crunch fallen pine needles, and the smell of woodsmoke grows stronger. For a witch, that smell stirs something deep in the bones. This is the magic we’re made of—midnight fires and fog-shrouded forests.”
― Laura Thalassa, Bewitched

“You’re thinking too hard.” He taps his chest. “Magick can be created from a song, but it isn’t required. In truth, the most powerful magick is conjured from the deepest parts of our souls, not with voices or hands or anything else. But, no matter how a conjurer builds their magickal constructs, it must come from the heart. You know this, yes? Born of emotion, love, hope, sadness, desperation, all tied to ancient commandments of the old gods. The words are easy. Reaching for the emotion is what’s hard.”
― Charissa Weaks, The Witch Collector

“I don’t hide anything. I have no fear anymore. Any darkness, she has destroyed with her light. Every shadowy, gloomy place inside me feels remade because of her. I feel healed.”
― Charissa Weaks, City of Ruin

“Hello again, my love. It has been an age.” We look at each other, our torsos bare save my bra and his tattoos, and the two of us laugh. In that moment, there’s no division between who I was as Roxilana and who I am as Selene; the past and the present are here, all at once. “It worked,” I say softly. My fingertips graze his face and the puckered skin where his scar is. “I never truly lost you.” He shakes his head. “No, my queen, this is just the beginning.”
― Laura Thalassa, Bespelled