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In the rolling hills of Pennsylvania, where the forests whispered secrets older than the trees themselves, Sybil Leek arrived in the 1960s, her cape trailing behind her like a shadow of the Old World. Known in Britain as the "most famous witch," she had crossed the Atlantic to escape the clamor of fame and to plant new roots among those who sought her wisdom. With her came the echoes of the New Forest covens, the Horsa tradition, and a lineage of magic stretching back centuries. In a quiet corner of the state, near Harrisburg, she gathered a small circle of initiates—men and women drawn to her sharp wit, her piercing gaze, and the jackdaw, Mr. Hotfoot Jackson, perched loyally on her shoulder. They called themselves the Wolfa Coven, a name whispered with reverence among those who knew of their workings.
Sybil was no stranger to the art of creation. She had studied the Kabbalistic tales of the golem, those clay-born beings animated by sacred words, and she saw in them a bridge between the ancient and the modern. One crisp autumn night, beneath a harvest moon that bathed the Pennsylvania woods in golden light, Sybil called her coven to a clearing. The air was thick with the scent of pine and the hum of unseen forces. She carried with her a lump of river clay, smoothed by the waters of the Susquehanna, and a small, unassuming pendant—a piece of jewelry she had forged herself from silver and a single amber stone. It glinted in the firelight as she placed it at the center of their circle.
"Life is a thread," Sybil said, her voice steady as she kneaded the clay, "woven through time, from one soul to the next. Tonight, we craft something eternal—a guardian, a shadow, a mirror. We will call it the All Lives Golem."
The coven watched in silence as she shaped the clay into a humanoid figure, rough-hewn but unmistakably alive with intent. She spoke of its purpose: a creature unbound by a single existence, capable of following a soul across lifetimes. Unlike the golems of Prague, bound to obedience, this one would carry a dual nature—a curse or a help, depending on the will of its maker and the worth of its target. Sybil etched the Hebrew word *emet* into its forehead, then pressed the amber pendant into its chest, where a heart might have been. With a breath and a whispered incantation—a blend of Celtic chants and Kabbalistic names—the ground trembled, and the All Lives Golem stirred.
Its eyes, hollow pits of clay, glowed briefly with the amber’s light. Sybil stepped back, her coven holding their breath. "It will seek the one we choose," she declared. "To help, it will guard their spirit through every life, a silent ally against misfortune. To curse, it will bind their soul to a weight they cannot shed—a reminder of debts unpaid. Tonight, we gift it purpose."
She turned to a young initiate, a woman named Eliza, whose eyes burned with a quiet resolve. Eliza had come to Sybil seeking protection from a past that haunted her—whispers of betrayal from a lover who had left her broken. Sybil nodded, sensing the justice in her plea. "The Golem will help you," she said, placing Eliza’s hand on the pendant still embedded in the clay. "It will follow you, life to life, ensuring no harm comes unavenged, no kindness unrewarded."
The coven chanted as Sybil sealed the ritual, removing the first letter from *emet* to leave *met*—a precaution to keep the Golem dormant until called. The figure crumbled slightly, but the pendant pulsed, alive with the magic they had woven. Sybil entrusted it to Eliza, who wore it close to her heart. From that night, stories spread through the coven of Eliza’s uncanny luck—accidents avoided, enemies humbled, and a strange sense of being watched over, even in her dreams.
Years later, after Sybil’s passing in 1982, the Wolfa Coven continued her work, guarding the secret of the All Lives Golem. The pendant, now a relic of their founder, was said to hold the power to awaken the creature anew. Some claimed to see it in the woods—a hulking shadow of clay and amber, trailing those it had been bound to, its purpose shifting with the tides of fate. Whether it carried a curse or a help, none could say for certain, but all agreed: Sybil Leek had left behind a legacy as enduring as the souls it touched, a piece of jewelry that bound the living to the eternal.
We have a lot of these and so the price is inexpensive when in reality it should be high priced. There is a lot of work that goes into these. This is not a regular Golem. This will go from life to life. This can also go into your life and undue all the bad. This can go into your life as a hardcore fighter to remove a bad one with a generational curse. I didn’t know anything like this existed but here they are! These will be 38.00 and they should be 200 and something. You just tell me good, bad or dual and that is what you will get. You can even pick your birth and death date or leave it up to me. You decide.