In The Bane Witch, Ava Morgyn braids together the ritualism of Southern Gothic, the feral bloom of feminine power, and a chilling murder-mystery wrapped in herbal folklore. It’s a novel that simmers with righteous anger, tastes of dark berries, and pulses with the rhythm of women reclaiming their stories—one bitter tincture at a time.
Known for her lush, introspective prose and psychological nuance, Morgyn returns with a heroine both damaged and divine. Piers Corbin, once a celebrated interior designer and now a hunted woman, is the kind of protagonist that invites both dread and awe. And The Bane Witch doesn’t just tell her story—it channels her voice, her trauma, and her power, leaving the reader spellbound and slightly scorched.
Plot Summary: Death Is Just the Beginning
Piers Corbin’s life has become a cage of velvet and steel. Trapped in a marriage with the abusive and increasingly unhinged Henry Davenport, she fakes her own death by leaping from Charleston’s Ravenel Bridge after poisoning herself with pokeweed berries—a childhood craving and ancestral calling.
Reemerging under the alias Acacia Lee, she flees to the Appalachians, where her estranged great-aunt Myrtle runs a mountain café with a very particular clientele and a darker, magical purpose. Piers discovers she is a descendant of the Bane Witches—women born with the power to ingest poisons and use their immunity to rid the world of violent men.
While healing her body and awakening her dormant gift, Piers starts working in the café and forges an uneasy flirtation with the local sheriff—who suspects something’s off about her presence and the recent uptick in disappearances. Meanwhile, a local serial killer begins hunting women, and Piers finds herself drawn into a deadly dance between predator and prey.
At its core, The Bane Witch is a story of transformation. But instead of soft metamorphosis, Morgyn gives us something grittier, bloodier, and more satisfying.
Writing Style: Gothic with Teeth
Ava Morgyn’s prose is lyrical yet razor-edged—every sentence feels like a whisper over a knife’s blade. Her descriptive flourishes evoke decay and beauty in the same breath, using language as both weapon and spell. Think Practical Magic by way of Sharp Objects, with echoes of Gillian Flynn’s bruised femininity and Alice Hoffman’s sensual spirituality.
Piers’ voice is a triumph: poetic without excess, dryly funny in despair, and unwaveringly honest about the violence of womanhood. The pacing, particularly in the first half, is deliberate but never dull—Morgyn lets you steep in the atmosphere like tea brewed too long, dark and potent.
Notable Stylistic Features:
- Interior monologue that feels confessional and conspiratorial
- Rich sensory imagery (especially with plants, blood, and pain)
- Non-linear trauma exploration through memories and visions
- Dialogue that crackles with subtext and suppressed emotion
Character Analysis: The Poison and the Cure
Piers Corbin / Acacia Lee
A rare combination of vulnerability and vengeance. Piers is not your typical fantasy heroine—there’s no chosen one trope, no predestined greatness. She earns every ounce of her power through endurance, pain, and choice. Her arc—from prey to predator—is viscerally satisfying. Yet, she never loses her humanity. Even in her darkest moments, she asks: Is what I’m doing right? Am I becoming the very thing I ran from?
Henry Davenport
Terrifyingly real. Morgyn crafts Henry with a chilling precision—he is the archetype of the abusive partner masked in refinement. Every scene with him thrums with dread. The novel critiques not just Henry as a man, but the systems that allow his kind to thrive.
Myrtle
The aunt-witch archetype gets a refresh here. Myrtle is no fairy godmother. She’s gruff, mysterious, and loyal in complicated ways. As mentor and mirror to Piers, she represents the life Piers could have had—and still might.
Sheriff Tucker
A wildcard. His presence is both comforting and suspicious, and Morgyn toys with reader expectations well. His chemistry with Piers is slow-burning and shadowed by fear: Can she ever trust a man again?
Themes and Symbolism: Magic with a Message
The Bane Witch blends herbal folklore with modern feminist rage. But Morgyn never reduces her novel to just a revenge fantasy. Instead, she roots it in generational trauma and the slow, complex work of healing.
Core Themes:
- Survival and Reinvention:
Piers’ transformation into Acacia is both literal and metaphorical. Faking her death is only the beginning—she must rebuild herself, name herself, and own the scars she once hid. - Feminine Rage and Righteous Violence:
What does it mean to weaponize womanhood? The Bane Witches don’t kill for sport—they are justice incarnate. Yet, Morgyn doesn’t shy away from the ethical murkiness of their mission. - Legacy and Lineage:
Inheriting power from women who were silenced, feared, or broken, Piers must decide what kind of witch she wants to be—and what kind of world she wants to leave behind. - Visibility and Invisibility:
Whether through social erasure, abuse-induced silence, or magic that hides in plain sight, the novel examines how women are taught to disappear—and how they fight to be seen.
Praise: What Morgyn Gets Right
- Stunning Atmosphere: From humid Southern mornings to eerie mountain trails, Morgyn’s world is fully immersive.
- Unflinching Portrayal of Abuse: The emotional, physical, and psychological effects of Henry’s manipulation are portrayed with accuracy and empathy.
- Creative Magic System: The concept of Bane Witches—poison eaters who use their immunity as weaponry—is refreshingly original and metaphorically rich.
- Complex Female Relationships: The intergenerational dynamics between Piers, Myrtle, and the “venery” (coven) are layered and realistic.
- Emotional Authenticity: Grief, fear, rage, and love—every emotion lands without melodrama.
Critique: Where the Potion Weakens
Despite its many strengths, The Bane Witch is not without its imperfections:
- Pacing in the Final Act: The resolution with the serial killer antagonist feels slightly rushed. The stakes are high, but the emotional payoff isn’t as fully developed as Piers’ personal arc.
- Side Characters Underused: Myrtle and the other Bane Witches could have been explored in more depth. Their lore and sisterhood feel rich, but the narrative focuses narrowly on Piers (understandably), leaving some threads untapped.
- Mystery Elements Slightly Predictable: Readers familiar with the mystery/thriller genre may guess key reveals early on, especially concerning the killer’s identity.
- Repetition in Reflection: Some of Piers’ inner monologues rehash familiar themes (trauma, identity, fear of men) in ways that slightly stall narrative momentum.
Similar Titles & Reader Recommendations
If you enjoyed The Bane Witch, you may also like:
- The Once and Future Witches by Alix E. Harrow – For sisterhood, rebellion, and magical lineage.
- We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson – For dark domesticity and eerie feminine power.
- The Poison Season by Mara Rutherford – For mysterious forests and fatal flora.
- The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires by Grady Hendrix – For Southern Gothic horror with a feminist twist.
Final Thoughts: A Coven-Worthy Read
The Bane Witch is not just a fantasy or a thriller. It’s a reclamation. A spell woven for survivors, daughters, and witches hiding in plain sight. Ava Morgyn dares to ask: What if justice didn’t wear a badge, but walked barefoot through the woods, wild-eyed and armed with poison?
With poetic intensity and sociopolitical bite, this book stakes its claim as one of the more emotionally intelligent entries in the witch-lit revival. While not perfect, it is potent—like pokeweed berries: deadly, seductive, and unforgettable.
Would I Recommend It?
Absolutely—for readers who enjoy dark feminist fantasy, gothic mystery, and lushly introspective prose. The Bane Witch is Ava Morgyn at her most powerful yet.