Read the book: «Keys to the Witches’ Gate. A Tale of Magic and Betrayal»

Editor Illia Pleskach

Cover designer Eduard Pleskach

© Maryna Pleskach, 2025

© Eduard Pleskach, cover design, 2025

ISBN 978-5-0068-1617-6

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

Chapter 1 – Awakening of the Marked One

This story is not just about good and evil. It’s not merely about a girl. It is a story for those who doubt their path, for those who feel lost and

unseen. My story is for anyone who has ever felt different, alone in a world that refuses to understand.

From a young age, I sensed I was special. No one told me about the witches, exorcists, healers in my bloodline. When I spoke of a ghostly boy only I could see and hear, my family turned away or dismissed me. But the truth was burning inside me – a power, a force both protective and testing me since birth.

My childhood was marked by fear – a tyrant for a father, violent and cruel. I begged my mother to leave him, for my sake and hers. One near-drowning in the dark sea was my first trial, a test from the force within me that promised survival against all odds.

That power was always by my side – unseen but present like the universe itself. Like some know the stars exist, but few can see the cosmos through their soul. Every witch knows this: the power is alive from conception, waiting for its moment.

My grandmother healed with herbs during the war, helping strangers and family alike, bound by mission not fear.

Another grandmother was a witch. These truths I learned only slowly, and with each revelation, my path became clearer.

At eighteen, the visions sharpened. At twenty-three, when I bore my first son, I knew the power was real. It demanded action, and I had to listen – or be consumed.

Chapter 2 – Whispers Beyond the Veil

My husband was an illusion – broken by drink, controlled by darker forces. His mother, a witch devoted to black icons, held us captive in the shadows. She wove her dark magic around our lives, binding him like a puppet. I warned him – he could not see the chains, the hundreds of grim books lining her shelves, the curse pressing down.

I began to see demons behind human faces. To understand what possession means. The house was a battlefield, every moment thick with dread and silent war. I felt their power creeping, the unnatural bending reality around us.

Yet, within me, the first flickers of resistance grew. I was no longer just a victim – I was awakening. This darkness would not have me without a fight

My mother, just like I once did, begged me to leave my tyrant of a husband. She warned me over and over again that his family was pure evil. I was young, naïve, and deaf to her words back then. But oh God, how I wish I could scream to the world now – my mother was right.

His family had no limits. Nothing sacred. Nothing human.

An ordinary person might have said, “I’ve been through Hell.”

But as a Witch, an Exorcist, and a Healer, I know Hell does not exist in the way the world claims. Many religions forged this false image to keep people chained, obedient to their doctrines. I will tear down every curtain and tell the truth.

My mother-in-law would pour liquor into her son’s glass and whisper, “Drink.” I could not comprehend how a mother could cloud her own child’s mind, feeding the darkness inside him, encouraging him to become even more brutal toward me.

I saw hatred in his eyes. A hunger to kill me. To strangle me. And I didn’t understand why.

But in time, I learned to ask a different question – For what purpose?

It was another trial. My power was testing me again: Would I stand against the entity wearing my husband’s face? Or would I fall?

The Power screamed through my blood: You have no right to surrender. No right to be weak. Stand up. Fight back. Fear nothing and no one.

Remember the deep sea abyss where you were a fearless little girl. But there was one truth – he had broken me and buried me alive.

After the beatings, I would look at the bruises around my neck from his strangling hands, the purple marks blooming across my body… and I would sink to my knees. His family had put me there – on the ground, crushed. But I knew I had to rise again – not just for myself, but for my sons.

The real breaking point came when my younger boy, after witnessing the violence, simply stopped speaking. His voice was trapped. He stuttered and could not form a single word. I screamed into the abyss, Why?

Why?!

And then, the Power whispered: Remember who you are. Stand and fight. Move forward without fear. We will guide you.

I spoke aloud, I understand. I will rise. I will walk forward. Stay with me. And once again, the Power heard me – as it always hears its Witch.

The very next day, my son spoke again. Was it a miracle? No.

It was Power in action.

Not only did he speak – he sought justice. He called for his father’s arrest for the beatings and cruelty against his mother. But the world, as it often does, let the guilty walk free – because someone with a higher status had the power to protect them.

And so, the Power began teaching me how a Witch must truly defend herself. A Witch does not simply forget or forgive the strike – she strikes back.

In those moments, the Power trained me – through spells, through rituals, through magic, through astral journeys – shaping me into what I was born to become.

Chapter 3 – The House Where Shadows Breathe

The walls whispered secrets I could not escape. Every corner his eyes – watching, waiting. The air tasted of old grief and fresh malice. My husband’s vacant gaze was a veil; behind it, a war raged he could not win.

His mother, a priestess of darkness, moved like a shadow itself. Her rituals stained the air – black candles burned with unnatural flame, ancient words slithered from her lips. I saw the change in him: slow, crushing, as if his soul was drowning in her will.

At night, I heard the voices – not just hers, but something older, deeper. Demons that danced on the edge of sight, waiting for weakness. My children trembled under her gaze, their innocence a fragile shield against the abyss.

I felt the pressure crush me – body, mind, spirit. But the power inside me stirred. A quiet flame in the storm. I clung to it, my only hope in a house where shadows breathed.

I found within myself the kind of Power my ancestors once only whispered about.

A Power that would not let me be broken.

I rose – trembling with exhaustion and pain – and spoke aloud, to myself, to the world, to the sky:

And that single word cut through the silence like a blade. Enough – of suffering.

Enough – of fear.

Enough of allowing anyone to destroy me, my sons, or my Power.

In that moment, fear vanished.

I no longer trembled before my mother-in-law.

I no longer lowered my eyes before my ex-husband. I suddenly remembered: I am not alone.

The Power was with me. It had always been there.

And now, it stood beside me and whispered: “I will not abandon you.”

That was the beginning of my new story.

A story that would turn my life upside down and never again let me return to that former existence – the one lived in silence and shadow.

I felt it – I had changed. I had become someone else.

But what next? Where should I begin, so that I would not harm myself or my family?

I thrashed, like a fish beating against ice, desperate to break through to the air.

I searched for someone who could help me fling the doors of my world wide open. Someone who knew and understood more than I did then.

I believed there must be someone out there who could tell me – how to be a Witch, how to be myself.

But how naïve I was.

My thirty-third birthday was approaching – like a marker on the path. And still, I didn’t know what to do with this Power.

How to work with it. How to tame it. And yet, I kept moving forward.

Then, I met Him.

The Priest. The Exorcist.

The first time I looked into his eyes, I saw myself there.

He didn’t speak much, but his gaze carried more than words ever could. He looked straight into my soul.

He knew where my pain lay, and with what seemed like a single touch of his hand – he could heal it.

In him, I saw the reflection of what I could become.

I watched him, amazed – how he freed people from what lurked in their shadows.

How he cast out the demons that lived inside them and ruled their lives.

I saw him lay his hands on the sick – and barren women became mothers.

I saw him heal where doctors had already given up.

I stood there, and my heart pounded harder. I was not alone.

There were few like me – but they existed.

When all was said and done, the Priest looked at me and said:

– “You have a special mission. You are very strong. You will be able to withstand any force. People need you.”

Then he added, quieter, as if it was meant for me alone:

– “You have a unique gift. Protect yourself and your Gift. And believe in yourself.”

He didn’t teach me. He didn’t give me lessons. He only said:

– “Everything you need, you will soon understand yourself. People like you, with such immense power, must uncover themselves without another’s guidance.”

That was our only meeting. I thanked the Priest and left.

And as I made my way home, I cried.

Tears streamed down my face, and I spoke out loud:

“I want to be like him. I want to help people. I want to protect them from those like my mother-in-law.”

I spoke into the emptiness, but inside I felt the words harden into an oath:

“I will help hundreds. Thousands. I will clear their paths. I will be needed.”

When I finally came home, I told my mother:

– “I will help people. Everyone who needs me.” And then I fell asleep.

My mother sat beside her grown daughter, unable to believe the Power that lived inside this fragile woman.

A Power of more than one generation. The Power of our Bloodline.

She stroked my hair and whispered:

“May the Power always protect her. May it give her the strength to become who she truly is.”

Exorcist. Witch. Healer. Three mighty words.

And all of them – me.

All of it – in my blood, in my soul.

All of it – the Gift I was given at birth.

Chapter 4 – When the Darkness Tightens Its Grip

The darkness grew bolder, relentless. My husband, once a man I loved, was lost beneath layers of possession and despair. His mother’s magic thickened the air, wrapping around us like a suffocating cloak.

I felt the strikes – invisible, psychic wounds. Dreams twisted into nightmares, warnings etched into sleep. I saw visions of battles not yet fought, of sacrifices I had yet to make.

Still, doubt gnawed at me. Could I, a woman battered by life and shadow, stand against such ancient evil? The power inside me pulsed – stronger now, demanding trust and courage.

This was my crucible, my rebirth. To rise or fall. To embrace the witch I was born to be – or be consumed by the darkness tightening its grip.

I passed my trial. I was reborn.

And in that rebirth, I found my truest self – A self unlike any other woman.

A self that was fragile and unbreakable all at once.

A self that began to remember who she had been through lifetimes past. I found me.

I found my Power.

I walked my own path, knowing full well it would lead me through judgment, through rejection, through the cold stares of those who could never understand.

But I was not afraid. I was resolute.

I knew I was needed in this world – a world where my hands, my voice, my presence could heal.

I had no desire to destroy it.

I wanted to help, to see joy return to weary faces.

But I also knew one thing: I would never again allow deceit or malice to come close to me.

I learned to accept people as they were.

And that acceptance was both terrifying and beautiful.

I watched people transform under my gaze.

I saw the way children and adults alike would shudder in my presence, for I could draw out the entities, the shadows, the darkness that no ordinary witch could touch.

My Power is unique.

It weaves miracles that defy explanation.

And yet – despite the exhaustion – I was happy after each session. Because working with people meant letting them pass through me, letting them see in my eyes the reflection of their true selves.

It was like holding a mirror to their soul – showing them both the light and the lurking shadows.

I was happy because I watched destiny shift.

I saw people choose the clean, bright road of a life reborn.

My Power had shown me, for the very first time, exactly who I was. It is not something you can believe with logic—

It is something you can only accept.

And I know, as you read these words, many of you feel it. You sense it. It is as if magic itself is stirring within these pages, showing you images from inside your own soul.

This is not magic – it is your own Power speaking to you. I am speaking to you through it.

Do not reject it. Do not fear it.

Accept yourself.

Allow your Power to lead you on your path – the Path of Power.

In my world, I will help you.

I will burn away the fog so you can see yourself clearly, so you can feel your own Power.

I will guide you and reveal how you, too, can walk this path.

One day, a desperate client came to me:

“Mari, please… help my daughter. She cannot conceive.”

I shrugged.

“She must come to the realization herself. She must choose to help herself.”

Many people reject those like us – they dismiss our existence as fantasy… until fate forces them to see otherwise.

Some time later, the client brought her grown daughter to me.

From the moment she entered, the young woman was defiant – mocking, closed off, unwilling to work. But her mother’s eyes pleaded with me.

She knew the pain her daughter carried behind that mask of arrogance.

I wanted to send the girl away.

She did not believe in my Power – yet deep inside, she was desperate to be healed.

And my Power, which showed me her pain, would not allow me to turn her away.

It commanded me to help.

I drew the girl into conversation, using subtle psychological keys. At last, she smiled, remarking that I was “quite the psychologist.”

But my Power and I – we knew what we were truly doing.

I placed my hand over the deep block within her – the one that kept her from accepting motherhood. And I told her:

“In two months, you will send me a message of gratitude, telling me you are expecting a son.”

At that, something broke loose.

She burst into a wild, almost hysterical laugh, then began to cry and shout:

“That will never happen!”

She didn’t even hear her mother, who tried to calm her.

Instead, she pulled out a medical certificate, shoving it in my face: “It’s impossible! I am medically infertile!”

I looked into her eyes and said simply:

“In two months, I will hear from you.”

Exactly two months later, I received an overwhelming message of gratitude.

She was pregnant – with a son.

The same woman who had been told she was barren. Never doubt your words.

Never doubt your Power.

You are not wrong—

You are simply reading what the Power shows you.

Even if the paper says otherwise, even if the world tries to make you believe you are mistaken – you are more than this world allows you to be.

Trust your Power.

Do not bend to their “facts.” This, too, is a Witch’s trial—

Will she conform to what is placed before her…

Or will she stand her ground, unshaken in her truth?

CHAPTER 5 – THOSE WHO REMEMBER

What I tell you now is not just my story.

It is a whisper to the ancient memory that lives inside you.

You, the one reading these words – this is no accident. You did not stumble upon this book by mistake.

You were brought here because, deep within, your own fire has begun to awaken.

Let me speak to that fire now. You are not broken.

You are not weak.

You are not “too much,” “too sensitive,” or “crazy.” You are remembering.

There have been lives where you were silenced.

When your gaze, your hands, your voice – made others tremble. You burned in the fire.

You hid in the shadows.

You walked among the blind, pretending not to see.

But now, something ancient is stirring.

You are not like the others. You never were.

You are the mirror and the flame.

You are the storm and the silence that follows it.

And if my story resonates in your bones —

It is because your soul recognizes its own path.

Do not ask the world for permission to be who you already are. Do not wait for someone to come and save you.

You are the one who breaks the chains. You are the one your ancestors prayed for. You are the child of fire.

Stand tall in your power.

Speak your truth, even if your voice shakes. Dare to look within and say:

“I remember. I am ready.”

Let these words wrap around your soul like a cloak: You are not alone.

You are not lost.

You are exactly where you were always meant to be. This is not the end.

This is your beginning.