I was a sorceress, and I lived with my all-female family of witches and sorceresses in a beautiful house. Our family had lived there for centuries and we took in any woman or girl who wanted to learn magic. Our house was full of laughter and every room was different. When women came to us hurt or intending to use magic for evil, we took them in and cared for them and showed them love and peace until their souls were healed, because you couldn't use magic with a cracked soul or you'd shatter from the power of it and die. Every time someone came to seek help, the house grew another room for her, and each room became the ideal place for her, filled with her favorite things and pictures of her loved ones. There were all different colors and decorative styles and the differences were what made the house so beautiful.
We used little magics all the time, to help animals and to subtly help people all around the world. When someone anywhere cried out for help, we could hear them and send what magical help we could. Sometimes we couldn't do very much, when their needs were physical such as food. But we could calm the emotions of attackers or make them forget what they were doing, or we could chase the nightmares of children away.
But there were bad people in the world who could use magics too. They didn't bring their power from a source of love, but from their pain, and the more cracked and broken their souls, the more evil and destructive their magic. They found our house and laid siege, killing anyone who went outside.
We had a secret exit and we escaped, but they sent a broken woman to go through the front door of our house, because our magical protections and wards allowed anyone seeking help to enter--but once she was inside, she turned around and invited the evil ones in, thereby allowing them to pass. And because our power came from our home, its feeling of love and peace and privacy and security and safety, they had to destroy those centuries-old spells. They opened the front and back doors and they marched all their prisoners through again and again. They made all the townspeople walk through. The more people walked through, the more the energy of our comfortable, beautiful home leaked out, until our home had no power anymore and was just a building. We sorceresses and witches could no longer call on our magic.
But they didn't realize that our kind of magic, once created, does not get destroyed, it merely moves around. The town around them transformed into a beautiful paradise, and their prisoners and the townspeople and everyone who went through that door felt a little of their worries and pains and emotional wounds lighten and heal. Those who went through again and again became happy and full of life, and finally the evil ones had no power over them.