The Cursed Witches of Ebonveil: An Immortal Gazette Exclusive
Alice leaned against the edge of the Immortal Gazette’s infamous round table, idly flipping a gold coin between her fingers. Loki sat across from her, looking far too entertained, and Rumplestiltskin—well, he was glaring at both of them like he had somewhere better to be.
“Alright, gentlemen,” Alice purred, “tonight’s topic is the Dark Forest of Ebonveil and those delightfully cursed Dark Witches of Ebonveil.”
Rumple sighed. “Why must we always discuss haunted places?”
Alice grinned. “Because haunted places make the best stories.”
Loki tapped his fingers on the table. “Oh, Ebonveil… now that’s a forest with history.”
Alice leaned in. “Oh? Do tell.”
Loki smirked, eyes gleaming. “Legend has it, long before the cities of 4EverMore stood in their full immortal glory, the witches of Ebonveil ruled the night with their magic. They weren’t the kind to waste time with love potions and simple hexes—no, these witches wove spells into the very bones of the forest itself.”
Rumple scoffed. “Please, half the forests in 4EverMore are enchanted.”
Loki tilted his head. “Ah, but this one? This one fights back.”
Alice took a slow sip of tea. “Go on.”
Loki leaned forward, voice low and rich with mischief. “There was a time when no one dared to set foot in Ebonveil after dusk. Travelers who did? Never returned the same. Some whispered that the witches cursed them, turning them into shadow-bound things—creatures that looked like the ones who entered but were… wrong somehow. They spoke with voices just slightly off. They moved like they weren’t used to their own bodies.”
Rumple’s expression darkened. “You’re talking about the Hollow Ones.”
Alice arched a brow. “Oh, now you’re interested?”
Rumple sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. Because that particular legend is one of the few I know isn’t nonsense.”
Loki smirked. “Tell them, Rumple. Tell them about the witch who started it all.”
Rumple’s jaw tightened. “Morgathis the Hollow. The first and worst of the Dark Witches of Ebonveil.”
Alice rested her chin on her hand. “Dramatic name. Love that for her.”
Rumple ignored her. “She wasn’t just a witch—she was the one who created the Hollow Curse. She discovered a way to strip a soul from a body, leaving behind a shell, a Hollow One—a thing that obeyed only her command.”
Loki nodded. “And naturally, being a self-respecting Dark Witch, she didn’t just do this to her enemies. No, no—she did it to everyone. Anyone she thought might betray her. Anyone she thought was too weak to survive Ebonveil’s ever-growing power. Even her own coven wasn’t safe.”
Alice let out a low whistle. “Oh, that’s cold.”
Rumple’s expression was grim. “Eventually, even her own sisters had enough. The Dark Witches of Ebonveil may be ruthless, but they do have one rule—never turn on your own.”
Loki smirked. “Which is exactly what Morgathis did.”
Rumple nodded. “So, the coven gathered. And on the darkest night of the year, they turned her own magic against her. They ripped her soul from her body—but they didn’t destroy it. No, they bound it to the forest itself. They made her the thing lurking in the trees, the shadow that watches travelers, the whisper in the dark that makes you second-guess whether you’re alone.”
Alice grinned. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why you never mess with a coven’s fine print.”
Loki chuckled. “To this day, Ebonveil still answers to Morgathis. The forest remembers her magic, her cruelty. It still makes Hollow Ones out of the unlucky few who step too far into its shadows.”
Alice tapped her fingers on the table. “So, let me get this straight—Ebonveil is still cursed, the Dark Witches still rule it, and Morgathis is technically still out there, just waiting for someone dumb enough to try and break the spell?”
Loki shrugged. “That is the working theory.”
Rumple crossed his arms. “And this is exactly why I don’t go there.”
Alice smirked. “But someone will, eventually. Some poor soul who thinks they can outsmart the witches, tame the forest, maybe even free Morgathis.”
Loki’s eyes gleamed. “And that will be the real story to tell.”
Alice raised her cup. “To the Dark Witches of Ebonveil—eternal queens of the cursed forest.”
Loki lifted his drink. “And to the next fool who tries to defy them.”
Rumple just sighed. “I hate this job.”
And with that, the Immortal Gazette filed away another tale for the ages—one that, if you listen very closely on a dark night near Ebonveil, you might just hear whispered back to you in the wind.
🖋️✨📜🖤
