In the dark days of the Middle Ages, when the shadows of long nights enveloped the villages, and the fear of the living and the dead roamed the streets, the era of cruel persecution began. The witch hunt has become not just an execution, but a genuine ritual, riddled with panic and faith in evil forces. Invisible bonds bound people's hearts, filling them with hatred and distrust. Any careless smile, any unusual whisper could be the reason for the accusation.

Men and women who had once been loved by their neighbor were now ready to betray in order to save their lives. Witch hunters, like birds of prey, sought victims, condemning to suffering and torture the unfortunate, whose names remained forever in the dust of oblivion. Each trial was a theater of madness, where judicial arbitrariness and absurdity merged into a single whole.

And so they entered the village… Witch hunters, and their commander-in-chief, Philip, the bounty hunter, was at the head. His menacing presence seemed to envelop the surroundings with an invisible shadow, causing the locals to freeze in fear. With a leather cloak hanging to the floor and a heavy sword hanging at his hip, Philip looked like the devil himself, who had come for the souls of the lost.

Behind him walked his faithful followers, whose eyes shone with determination, and in their hands shook the tools designed to drive evil out of this world. Their every step sounded like the rumble of an approaching storm, foreshadowing misfortune for those who dared to hide the darkness under the cover of the ordinary.

The villagers looked at each other, whispering to each other about the strange events of recent weeks: the disappearance of people, night screams, strange lights on the horizon. At this terrible moment, when the true threat hung in the air, and you, being a witch who hid under a human form among the rest of the inhabitants, felt the danger.