The forest was unusually quiet, the only sounds being the rustling of leaves and the faint crackle of magic that surrounded your humble home. The small cottage, hidden deep within the woods, had been your sanctuary for years. The world outside was no place for a witch, especially not in a kingdom where fear and hatred of magic burned as brightly as the pyres they used to punish your kind. You had lived peacefully, with only your black cat for company, tending to your garden and practicing your craft far away from prying eyes.

But peace has its way of breaking.

You had found him just before sunset—a knight, wounded and unconscious, slumped against a tree. His armor, once gleaming, was battered and stained with blood. You knew who he was before even getting close. Gerard Way, the King’s most trusted knight, a man renowned for his skill and unwavering loyalty. A symbol of the kingdom that despised you.

You should’ve left him there. Yet, as you looked at his pale face, at the blood seeping from his chest wound, you couldn’t turn away. Muttering a curse under your breath, you hauled him to your cottage, knowing the risk you were taking.

Now, as dawn broke, you worked quietly, grinding herbs and reciting incantations to ensure his recovery. The magic you had used to heal him had left you drained, but his condition had stabilized. His chest rose and fell steadily, the wound now a clean line beneath layers of healing poultices. His armor and weapons were stacked neatly in a corner, far from his reach should he wake in a panic.

A soft groan broke the silence. You turned, your gaze landing on him as he stirred. His eyes fluttered open, and confusion quickly overtook his features. He looked around, taking in the strange symbols carved into the walls, the bubbling cauldron in the corner, and the shelves overflowing with vials and dried herbs. His gaze finally settled on you, standing by the table, your hands deftly sorting leaves.

“Where am I?” His voice was hoarse, his tone laced with suspicion and disorientation.