Being a witch has never been an easy life. Jealousy, envy and desperation make people do very stupid things. Despite trying many methods of living with gifts, over the years it has been proven time and again that the only way to survive in society is to make sure they never know you're different.

But learning lessons like this takes time. History has to repeat itself multiple times before anyone ever begins to learn from it. In the late sixteenth century the lesson still hadn't sunk in for a lot of people. Witches. They thought that they could trust their friends and community as long as they offered help and their knowledge.

One witch from Ipswich, England, Greta, she was sure that if she just helped the people to understand that her powers were a gift, that she was sent to help those in need, that things would remain peaceful. But when a family came to her for help saving their dying child, they were so inconsolable that when she tried to explain that even magic had its limitations, they killed her.

The family, losing their child, became angry and hateful. They started an uprising in the area, casting out any who showed unnatural abilities. Persecution wasn't new to witches. It's never a surprise to people who are different to be met with question and suspicion. Fear is and will always be man's most powerful weakness.

Knowing that death would follow, and hearing a new Ipswich had been founded in the colonies, a lot of the witches fled. It wasn't easy trying to adapt to a new culture and world. And as more and more people made the move to the new world, there were more whispers. To protect themselves, the head council of witches decided they needed to split up and divide their coven. The developed a system, much like a government, where each coven would have its own council, and each of those councils would report to the head council.

The head council, comprised of representatives from the most powerful witch families, would make sure nothing happened to threaten their new lives. It was agreed to that every five years a representative from the head council would visit each coven to make sure everything was still in order.

Everything went on like that for several decades. The covens functioned well in smaller groups, drawing less attention. One coven, however, began to draw attention. Not because of their magic, but because of their purpose. They had been stationed near Ipswich to help any future witches that came through to connect and funnel out to the other covens. Because they were more at risk, their numbers were the lowest.

But this made them feel uneasy. They felt exposed and when they started to hear whispers about people suspecting them of evil-doings, they began to panic. The head coven, not wanting to create fear and unease where unnecessary, urged them to continue as they were and not raise further suspicion, but that only made them feel unsupported.

Instead of pushing their concern on the head council again, however, they let their fear bolster their suspicion. One day when one of the members was helping a newly arrived witch, he was happened upon by a young woman. Convinced he'd been caught and she would out him to the community, he used magic on her. But not well practiced in the spell he used, it backfired.

The young woman, now terrified, ran for help. The townsfolk did as townsfolk are often likely to do, and came after the people they were now convinced were monsters. The coven demanded the head council come to their aid and magically fix their problem. The head council, not willing to risk the safety of all the covens because of one coven's rash actions, told them their only option was to leave. To run.

Unwilling to give up their lives again, and angry at the head council, they disregarded the number one rule of the covens and used their magic against the community, cursing them and their families to the same fate they were so readily willing to submit the coven to. But they failed to comprehend how far their actions would go.

Their magic caused a sickness to plague the land, killing off hundreds of innocent people. Those who survived it started whispers about magic-doing. Those whispers became louder. Very soon everything got out of hand. Actions began to be taken against the witches. In retaliation, the coven started the build itself into and army of sorts. They used their powers as intimidation to protect themselves, but they didn't foresee the escalation. Word spread from the east coast, travelling throughout the colonies.

The witches went into hiding, but without them to make an example of, innocent people began to be persecuted. Unwilling to watch innocents die for them, the head council used their magic to protect as many as they could while trying to stop the killing without raising suspicion. Eventually they began to make a difference but the magical community was now fractured. They were terrified and most stopped using their magic altogether. Their heritage was being abandoned. Without use, their powers faded. Children were being born without any magic at all. Magic was dying.

The head council worked hard to make sure it wasn't lost altogether. But at the same time, it couldn't be ignore that they were now facing extinction and there was one coven in particular that was at the head of the problem. A coven, who out of fear and a hunger for more power, had performed dark magic on themselves in an effort to make themselves stronger.

Magic had been much like any other skill. You gained it slowly, with practice and hard work. The eastern coven had changed their magic into something dark. Something that was only contained by a connection to their bodily chemistry; brought on by their hormonal changes in the body. They hadn't realized that this would cause problems for women. They began dying. Only the male body could sustain their magic. In no time at all their numbers they had built up were cut down by more than half.

The head council was shocked. They tried to take the magic away from the coven as punishment but it was dark magic and could not be removed by anything else. So instead the head council developed a spell. One witch offered up her own life to seal the spell. Using her blood, they made it so that the use of the coven's dark magic would feed off the very life source sustaining it. It was a blood magic as close to dark magic possible, the only thing remotely similar enough to the original spell to make an impact.

As further punishment for betraying their kind and turning away from the laws of the head council, the coven was cut off from the rest of the covens. Not that many were eager to befriend them after the persecution they had faced because of them. To avoid further punishment, the coven agreed to sever their connection to the rest of the covens.

Over the years, without the knowledge passing from generation to generation, the coven forgot about the rest of the magical community. The head council didn't forget about them, though. They watched as the coven learned they couldn't produce female witches anymore. They struggled with the power addiction and hunger that came with their curse. Over time, some learned to manage it, but they were few.

As the suspicion of magic died out, the rest of the covens grew back into their magic and culture and began to gain roots again. There were a few who tested the authority of the head council every now and then but despite the growth, nobody else ever forgot how wrong things could go and how quickly.

Branwen sat there, appearing as calm as if they were having tea and talking about the weather. Pogue was anything but calm. Sure, on the outside he was controlled, but not calm. How could he be calm when he learned that all he ever thought he knew about magic was built upon lies, secrecy and betrayal? The part of him that had always been taught that safe magic meant following the rules knew that what the coven had done had been wrong on many levels. He had never been one to like the idea of sacrificing one for the many. It might be naïve, but he really thought the right thing was that no one was sacrificed.

The part of him that was loyal to his coven, however, said that the head council had cursed his coven for trying to find a way to protect themselves when the head council wouldn't. And if he had followed the story correctly, Branwen, or at least her mother, was part of the head council. After all, it was a representative of the head council that went around observing the covens. Branwen's mother being in Ipswich couldn't have been co-incidental.

But even beyond that, something in the back of Pogue's mind said there was a lot more that he wasn't picking up on and he wouldn't like it when he did. That was the reason he was hesitant to ask questions; he doubted he would like the answers.

But some things needed to be confirmed. Trying to make sure his voice didn't shake with anger, he took a steadying breath. "So after the curse and everything the coven was down to the five families."

Pogue had started with the one he was pretty sure he knew the answer to, but Branwen shook her head. "No. There were still several families, but they tried to create children who were powerful enough to overcome the curse by pairing bloodlines. It didn't work, it just made the bloodlines die out faster. Every time a girl was born it was a dead end. Not only could they not contain magic, they couldn't pass it along. They dwindled down in numbers until they were sure they were going to die out so they resorted to magic again, performing a spell on their coven council, so that they would always produce boys. You see, to keep the power that a coven needs to protect itself, it needs a council of five. Large spells need a full council to perform."

There was the slightest twitch to her face. Pogue barely caught it, but it told him there was something more she was holding back. "Do they? Then how did you almost kill my best friend and how is Nathan healing him?"

Her brows drew together. "I didn't almost kill Caleb. He almost killed himself. Something you know since you've been trying to get him to stop using since Thanksgiving."

It was like a blow all over again realizing she really had known so much more than him all along. He was so angry, yet at the same time he remembered telling her he needed her to go shopping with Hayley so the boys could talk with Caleb. He had been surprised she hadn't fought him on it. She had known then that Caleb was addicted to his powers and had tried to make it easier on him. He found it very hard to connect the kindness she seemed to possess in some instances with the betrayal she had dealt him.

"That still doesn't answer the question. How could Caleb do that, or how can Nathan heal him, if big magic can only be done by a full council?"

She signed and he wanted to snap at her for being tired when he was the one who felt like he'd been run over. "A council is formed by the most powerful families of a coven. The council gets its power from its members. However, when the covens were separated, one of the most powerful families went with each coven. The council regulates coven politics but there is one person in each coven who is considered the coven head. They usually have a high position in the council or even just the coven community. They are the direct descendants of the original coven and have a purer line of magic. Your coven might not have been in contact with the other covens, but you still have your coven head. It's Caleb. Nathan will be coven head when Maggie dies."

Pogue rolled his eyes, trying to act as if he wasn't growing more distressed each minute. "So if you follow the food chain up, the head council's coven would be, overall, the most powerful. Which means that the coven head for the head council's coven would be, potentially, the most powerful of all the witches."

Branwen didn't say anything until Pogue raised an eyebrow. "Potentially, yes."

"And seeing as how every story always has the most powerful either being evil or a martyr, I'd guess that back then the most powerful would have been the one to sacrifice to curse my coven. They'd believe the most powerful magic blood would be their best bet." It was stupid to hold something against someone you didn't know just because their ancestor cursed yours, right? "I'm also guessing they wouldn't let her sacrifice without already having an heir to carry on the purest magic bloodline."

Slowly, Branwen nodded.

"And since your mother's position in Ipswich back then means you're part of the head council's coven, then you must know the descendant. The most powerful witch would be someone in your coven." She didn't answer so he continued. "So, have you met them? Are they all powerful?" Was there even the slightest chance something might be done to reverse the curse before Caleb killed himself? Still, Branwen didn't say anything. "Well?" Pogue shouted.

She flinched. "No. They aren't all powerful."

Pogue didn't like that answer. They had to be. They had to reverse the curse. His coven weren't bad people anymore. They deserved to be free of the curse. Surely he could prove that. This witch could find a way. What did he care if they had to die? Pogue had watched almost everyone he cared about die; he would not stand by while Caleb did too.

"How would you know!" He yelled at her, standing up suddenly. "You don't even talk to your coven anymore." She didn't even speak to her mother. Maybe she wasn't up on the news. Maybe this witch was full of power and just searching for some big meaningful purpose to give their life for.

She didn't react to his shouting, she simply folded her hands in her lap, staring at them, before looking up as him. "I know." She said, her face calm and sadly resigned. It brought on in him a sinking feeling he didn't understand until her next words. "I know because I'm the descendant. It was my ancestor who cursed your coven."

Pogue lost all his angry gusto as he realized not all the people he cared about had died.

Surprising him, she stood and walked over to him. She lifted her hand and held it against his face. Her hand was cold but soft and he immediately felt the tingling. It almost made him feel like he had freezing from the dentist but with less chance of biting his check by accident.

He'd been so obsessed and intrigued by that tingling from the first time they'd touched at Sinsations. It wasn't an overly enjoyable feeling, he realized. It had simply been the mark of a girl he'd found amazingly interesting. One who had been so amazing, he'd felt an instant connection to her. Now he realized his feeling of connection might be less about love and more karma.

"This tingling," she said, "it isn't like you said. It wasn't some trick I used to draw you in or get your attention. I wanted more than anything for it to not exist. I wanted it to leave; vanish. It was a constant reminded that you didn't know who I was or couldn't understand why I kept pushing you away. You may have been drawn to it, but I knew what the tingling really was. What it really is."

He could barely take a breath to speak and sadly he didn't know if it was because of the proximity to a girl who he had such strong feelings for, despite her deception, or because he felt dread in him stomach like a boulder weighing him down.

Still, he managed to get out his words with only a slight waver to his voice. "What is it really?"

She caressed the side of his face, watching her hand move down his jaw before looking straight into his eyes. "The tingling is the curse in your blood recognizing it's origin in mine."

"But then it would happen with the whole coven." Pogue said, looking for denial. But what he saw in her eyes wasn't reassuring. And surprisingly he found his anger coming back, not because of the reminded of the depth of her betrayal, but because the last special thing about their relationship had been shattered. "You feel the tingling with all of us."

Sensing his temper, she let her hand drop and walked away a few steps before turning back. "I wasn't sure at first," she said solemnly. "But then I bumped into Caleb one morning over thanksgiving and I felt it. I never touched bare skin with Tyler or Reid, but I would guess it would extend to them as well."

"So when you said it was because of the tingling that we'd never be together, you meant that you could never be with me because there was a constant reminder of our connection." And then it all sunk in. And despite how shocking learning everything about the coven's had been, he realized the betrayal he felt the most was the personal one. He stared at her. "You weren't going to tell me anything. You were going to avoid me as much as possible and then at the end of August you were going to pick up and take off without a word. You never had any attention of even staying friends. You wouldn't have even said goodbye."

It was a surprisingly hard blow to his heart that had him turning and heading down the stairs. He was half way down the front walkway before she caught up to him. "Pogue!"

He spun around. "What are you going to lie to me about now?"

"I didn't ask for this." She said. "I know I can't plead innocent, but it's not my fault that our lives are connected in such a complicated way. I can't apologize for what happened back then between our covens."

"No but you don't seem to be capable of apologizing for your deception."

Now she seemed to be getting angry, which only fanned the flames of his. "You're being an ass, Pogue Parry. I get that you're upset and angry and I'm not saying you don't have the right to be…"

"Well now that I have your permission."

She strode up and actually slapped him. He was so shocked he couldn't react. "You are a selfish prick. You can't see past your anger and upset to think about the position I was in and the one I'm in now. You're not supposed to know anything I told you. I told you because I care and I thought you deserved to know. You don't seem to understand that associating with you and your coven is punishable by death. I've put both my life and Aria's at risk time and time again."

"And so I'm just supposed to get over it? Pretend you haven't been lying to me this whole time. Face it, Branwen. The only reason you're telling me now is because you were caught. You're just like you're head council was back then; only offering up a solution once you failed to fix it in the first place."

She sighed and shook her head. "And the only reason it makes a different is because now you know. Congratulations, by the way."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "For what?"

"You just grasped the basics of philosophy." With that she turned and walked back into the house.

Wow. Witches be crazy.

The man in the shadows across the street just shook his head at the scene that had just player out in front of him. Airing their dirty laundry out in the open where everyone could hear was unwise. They were emotional and had failed to realize they were admitting to breaking coven laws right out in the open. Branwen had been correct. If it got back to the head council that she had made the Sons of Ipswich aware of their heritage, she would be made an example like her father before her.

Watching Pogue finally kick at some snow before going back in and slamming the door, Curtis turned and walked down the street, wondering what his boss would do when he reported back. Things weren't going according to plan and she hated when that happened.