Hey all! c: I'm here again with a new story. It's in two categories I haven't written for, so... yeah. C: On with the story. It's a one-shot, too.

Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own the Salem Witch Trials. I don't own Hecate either. Just the main OC's, but TeamPiper made their names.

October 30th, 1692:

I learned the hard way to be careful. I almost lost my life do to incompetence, and I've learned to be more careful about where I summon my goddess. Oh, I should probably tell you who I am before I tell you my life story. My name is Leah Anne. I live in Salem Colony, and it's the dead of winter, two months after I was almost assassinated for witchcraft.

I sat by the fire hearth in the middle of our colony, chilled to the bone. It's the dead of the night, so I should have been in my house; but my goddess appeared to me better at night-time, when her power is at its best.

"O goddess, speak to me." I muttered an incantation over the flames and they turn a sickly shade of green, casting a glow over the church to the right.

"You called for my power?" Hecate appeared before me, her purple hair in a cascade of ringlets. Her face is cold and expressionless, like a Greek statue out of a book I studied back in England.

"Yes, My Lady," I said, kneeling at her foot. "The commoners know I'm different. They've almost caught me speaking to you last time, and I think this may be my last time... they've put me under house arrest at night-time, and during the day I'm not allowed anywhere near the fire pit."

Hecate curved her lip, frowning. "Use the powers I gave to you, my follower." Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she straightens. "My Lord Zeus calls me back to Olympus. Just remember. Just because I am not here, doesn't mean I'm not hear with you."

Max's POV:

"She's a witch, I'm telling you," I said to the pope of the church pleadingly. "I saw her by the fire pit last night, summoning and speaking to the Dark Lord himself."

"We do not speak of this matter in my church. Go see the reverend, and be gone with this foolishness. I will admit, I'm a bit... confused by that girl. But you've sent many people to their deaths by accusing them of witchcraft."

I stormed out of the church and into the reverend's house.

"What is it this time?" he said, rolling his eye and tossing on his coat.

"That Leah girl... I seen her last night by the fire pit. She was summoning and talking directly to the Dark Lord himself. She's a witch."

"Ah... well, we can't really deny that until she can give us any proof of this nonsense being false." he said with a grim face. "She's an odd one, that one. Wearing the bright colors, speaking with the funny accent. I don't know why the King allowed her into the colony."

"Probably her using the words of the Dark Lord against him." I shrugged and grinned as the reverend readied his musket.

"Leah Anne." the reverend says darkly, his musket already loaded and aimed at me.

"Yes, reverend?" I asked innocently.

"You have been accused of committing the act of witchcraft." I drop my gaze and look up.

"What fool says that I, an innocent girl, is a witch?"

"Max Bailey." I frowned at the sound of that name; he's never liked me. I've never liked him. He's a complete liar normally, but this time he actually is telling the truth.

"Well, I'm not." I put as much power into my voice as I dare.

His expression actually softened, but the priest from the church puts a hand on his shoulder. "Snap out of it. She uses the word of the Dark Lord on you."

"You will receive trial this afternoon, Miss Anne." I'm shackled and put behind bars, until later today.

"Miss Anne, you will receive several tests so we can see if you are a witch, or just a normal colonist of Salem Colony." the reverend says grimly. "Hold out your tongue for the minister to see."

I raise my eyebrow, but do so anyway.

"Are there any suspicious colorings, minister?" He shakes his head, and I sigh in relief.

"See? I told you I'm not a witch." I said smugly.

"Don't speak until you are proven innocent, girl."

"Now, for the second test, we will search your body for any strange markings." I'm instructed to raise my shirt up, and the second they find a mole, someone shouts.

"Well, if you're going to call me a witch just because I have a mole, what's to stop me from saying that you're a warlock, or the priest calls on Satan himself?" Their eyes widen and I know I made my point that a mole is not a marking of the devil.

"And for your third test, you shall be hung in front of the entire colony of Salem tonight at sundown." My eyes widen.

"What?!" I shouted.

"No true, real-hearted Puritan would ever make a sarcastic remark like that while being searched for a Devil's Brand." the reverend says. "Now, off into your cell."

I sat on the floor cross-legged, waiting for my death.

"My Lady... I have failed you." I said to the wall, wishing for an answer. I didn't have anything, not even a simple flame to work with.

Then I noticed... my cell was lit by candlelight. Bingo.

"My lady, speak to me." I muttered over the light and it instantly turned purple.

"Ah, I have waited for you to call on my power again." she says nonchalantly, as if she had no idea what happened today.

"Where have you been all today?!" I shout at her. "I tried to call on your power today and all I received was a weak buzz!" I slam my chains against the wall, and they explode... guess my anger has some magic stored in it.

"Confound it," she muttered and dug out a watch. "I often forget that mortal time works differently with the Mist at work."

"T-the Mist?" I asked lightly.

"The magical veil that protects mortals from seeing gods and demigods in our true states," she said. "That's what made that boy think you were consulting with whoever the Lord of the Dead is in that religion of yours. He didn't see what you did. So he obviously went with witchcraft. Now, I can't completely stop your hanging—" my smile drops—"but I can partially prevent it."

"Leah Anne," the minister of the church said, fashioning the noose around my neck. "You are about to be hung for defying the Lord's ways and practicing witchcraft. Any last words in the name of the Lord?"

I shift uneasily, preparing to cast the incantation Hecate taught me earlier today. "Yes..." I said, clearing my throat—which isn't so easy with a tight noose around your neck, then scream at the top of my lungs. "Devinctionibus perfici: funem Ignis!" Incantation: Rope of Fire.

The noose and entire tree turns to flames, crumbling to ashes and I jump down, hiking up my skirts to my thighs and run at full speed towards the town center. The minister and other townsfolk run close behind, but I had at least a minute head start on them. Where to go, where to go?

I muttered under my breath, "Devinctionibus perfici: pallio Tenebrae," Incantation: Cloak of Darkness.
This should offer at least five minutes at the least of invisibility to the townsfolk.

"My goddess," I say to the flames, which are bright against the cool night air.

"Ah, you've survived. I take it my incantations worked well?"

"Very. But I need somewhere to go."

She purses her lips. "Ah... I don't normally recommend this to ordinary mortals, but there is a training camp on the west side of America. You need to go there, and become a priestess of me. You will not be ridiculed there. Tell the trainer, Chiron, your story and I'm sure he will accept you."

I nod, processing this slowly. A camp... a place for people like me.

I notice my aura of shadows flickering weakly, and take in what little magical energy is still inside me, and mutter my last spell that will be spoken in this colony: "Devinctionibus perfici: Semita Umbrae" Incantation: Path of Shadows.

I step into the doorway of darkness, waiting for what waits among the other side.

So, unfortunately they don't let you do three categories for these stories. But this would be in Greek Mythology, Percy Jackson and the Olympians, and Misc. Books. Until next time.