Our Grand Witch, Donna and the Tree of Light:
Long before the coven gathered in laughter and song, there was a girl named Donna. She was bright in spirit, mischievous in smile, and full of questions that could not be answered by ordinary folk. Drawn by a whisper on the wind, she wandered one afternoon to the edge of the meadow, where an ancient tree stood.
This was no common tree. Its trunk shimmered with threads of silver, and its branches bore leaves that glowed faintly even in the darkest night. The villagers called it cursed, but Donna felt no fear. She sat beneath its boughs and, in time, began to hear its voice.
The Tree of Light spoke to her in rustling leaves and humming roots, teaching her the old ways—how to see the spark of magic in every living thing, how to lift spirits with laughter, and how to heal hearts with kindness. But above all, it gave her a charge: “Gather them, child. Form a sisterhood, a Walk of Witches who will carry love and light into the world.”
The tree’s roots reached deep, some whispering they stretched all the way to where the woods kissed the shores of Lake Erie. From those hidden roots came echoes of another legend—the fearsome Sea Hag of Erie, a dark spirit of the waters. Yet the tree told Donna this truth: light and shadow are forever bound. Where the Sea Hag sowed fear upon the waves, the Witches’ Walk would sow love upon the land. Donna understood, and she vowed her coven would bring balance, never allowing fear to triumph over joy.
And so Donna obeyed. She gathered friends, neighbors, wanderers, and dreamers, weaving them into the first circle of what would become the Witches’ Walk. To them she was not only a teacher but a friend—her joy as contagious as her wisdom was deep. Together they danced, they healed, and they shone their magic into every corner of their town.
Years passed, and Donna became known as the Grand Witch, the heart and elder of the coven. Yet age has never dimmed her laughter or softened her playful spark. Though another may hold the Golden Broom and bear the title of Supreme Witch, all know that the Grand Witch remains the supreme guide—the light at the center of the circle, still young at heart, still listening to the whispers of her beloved tree.
The Legend of IsaCora, the Supreme Witch:
Long ago, when the winds still carried whispers between forest and shore, a girl with long red hair was born of Celtic bloodlines. Her ancestors, it is said, once gathered in quiet reverence beneath an ancient oak—the very same tree that called upon Donna, the first Grand Witch. That sacred oak, rooted where the green woods kissed the waters of Lake Erie, held the voices of ages and the wisdom of the old ways.
As the seasons turned, the oak spoke again. Its branches bent toward a young girl named IsaCora, shimmering with a spirit of fire in her heart and love for the lake’s waters in her soul. The tree’s whispers reached Donna, the Grand Witch, urging her to pass on the teachings of light, love, and charity. “Teach her,” the leaves murmured like druidic chant. “She shall carry the flame of our ways.”
Donna listened. She placed her broom into IsaCora’s hands, and under the silver gaze of the moon, taught her the spells of compassion, the art of gathering kin and community, and the ancient rites of generosity. IsaCora’s fire did not burn to destroy—it burned to guide, to warm, to protect. Her flame drew people together, even as the cool waves of Lake Erie tempered her spirit, teaching her balance, patience, and renewal.
When Donna’s time as the leader of the coven waned, she passed her broom onto IsaCora, her shining student. IsaCora rose—not by force, but by the calling of both land and water, flame and tide. She was named the Supreme Witch of Witches Walk, keeper of its sacred flame, and first among sisters of what came to be known as the Supreme Coven.
And still, IsaCora walks among us. Like her Celtic ancestors before her, she carries the blessings of oak, fire, and water. She seeks those with open hearts and bright spirits, passing on the gifts of light, love, laughter, and charity. To the worthy she teaches, so that the ancient flame never wanes, and the coven of Witches Walk shall endure as long as the oak leans to the lake and the moon rises over Erie’s waters.
May her flame warm you, may her waters heal you, and may her laughter guide your spirit home.
Whimsy the Witch:
Just a whim? We think not!
In the ever-growing lore of Witches Walk, there exists a figure unlike any other—the Whimsy Witch. Bright as a painted dawn, and as unpredictable as a butterfly’s flight, she earned her name for the whimsical spirit that follows her every step.
No one knows from where she first appeared. Some say she was dreamt up by IsaCora herself during one of her long nights of spellcraft and storytelling, a figment of imagination given life by magic. Yet, those who have met her swear she is as real as the colors she leaves behind. Wherever she walks, butterflies trail her—gossamer wings glimmering in hues no ordinary eye has ever seen.
Her gift is as peculiar as it is marvelous: she can paint the world with brightness. A dreary street corner blooms into a mural of joy under her touch. A stormy night is brushed with streaks of violet and rose. Even sorrow itself softens when Whimsy Witch splashes her palette of laughter and color across it.
It was in the year 2024 that she stumbled into Witches Walk, lured by the music, the laughter, and the cauldrons bubbling in the heart of Sandusky. With a single flick of her brush and a swirl of her butterflies, she turned the night into a carnival of color, dazzling witches and mortals alike. Her whimsical brilliance so impressed the Supreme Coven that she was named an honorary member—a rare honor for one who seemed to drift between dream and reality.
Whimsy Witch is never still. Sometimes she pops out of nowhere—a sudden laugh in the marketplace, a streak of rainbow across a gray wall, a flutter of wings in IsaCora’s wake. Then, just as quickly, she vanishes again, leaving behind the echo of joy and the mystery of whether she was ever really there at all.
But those who believe know the truth: Whimsy Witch is not just a passing vision. She is the living reminder that magic is not only in spells and charms, but in the colors we bring to life, the laughter we share, and the whimsy we dare to follow.
The Sisters of Ancient Flame:
Long before Sandusky was more than a dream, the Sisters walked the mist-shrouded highlands of what we now call Scotland. Their features carry the strength of the old ones—slightly primitive in form—yet their beauty is undeniable, crowned with wild, flowing red hair that glows like embers at twilight. To look upon them is to see twins, but the careful eye will notice small differences: a scar at the corner of one’s lip, a shadow in the gaze of the other.
The Sisters rarely speak, and when they do, their voices are deep and melodic, echoing like chants across the ages. They share instead a secret language of gestures, murmurs, and a rhythm of sounds no mortal tongue can capture. Many believe their speech is not meant for human ears, but for the wind, the earth, and the fire that once forged them.
It was in 2018 that they first appeared in Sandusky—drifting through the Witches Walk as if testing the waters of time, watching the coven with sharp, ancient eyes. They vanished as quickly as they came, leaving behind only whispers and the faint scent of peat smoke and heather. For years, they lingered at the edges of the walk, neither fully joining nor fully departing.
Then, in 2024, beneath a harvest moon, the Sisters stepped forward at last. They placed their hands upon the enchanted cauldron and were welcomed into the Supreme Coven. Some say the ground trembled that night as the old magic stirred, as if the spirits of their homeland had crossed the seas with them.
Now, the Sisters walk among us—guardians of ancient knowledge, bound not by words but by a language of the soul. They are eternal watchers of the coven, and though their origins belong to forgotten ages, their power pulses in the heart of Witches Walk today.
Eerie, the Traveling Witch of the Lake:
It is said that the islands of Lake Erie whispered their secrets to the waves, and out of its breath there came a witch whose very garments were fashioned from the treasures of the shore. Her cloak shimmered with the deep tones of Eerie’s sand, each grain enchanted to glow faintly beneath the moonlight. Her gown sparkled with threads of sea glass, smoothed and blessed by the restless tides, catching the starlight in shifting blues and greens. Around her neck hung charms of Lucky stones—rare gifts of a magical fish that the lake carries, each etched by time itself.
This witch was called Eerie, for she carried not only the spirit of the lake but also its endless power. With a wave of her hand, she could summon the water’s strength: to quench the thirst of the weary, to wash clean the wounds of the broken, and to feed the hungry with abundance drawn from the lake’s bounty. Where others saw only crashing waves, she saw a cauldron of life and nourishment.
It is said that IsaCora herself once walked the shores of Lake Erie, gathering a secret collection of Lucky stones. When the time was right, she gifted one to Eerie. With this gift, Eerie’s power deepened, for the stone carried not only luck but also the blessings of every witch who had ever walked those same sands. In gratitude and recognition, Eerie was named a member of the Supreme Coven, her place forever sealed among the greatest of witches.
Though she wanders far now—flying across the country, leaving trails of nourishment and hope wherever she lands—Eerie always returns home to her beloved lake. For the waves are her heartbeat, the shore her altar, and the wind off the water her song. And when she returns, the coven gathers to honor her, for she is the Traveling Witch, a beacon of nourishment and love, bound always to Lake Erie’s eternal magic.
WILL YOU BE THE NEXT SUPREME COVEN MEMBER?
WHAT'S YOUR STORY, WITCH?