Everyday, innocent women get captured by Witch Hunters. And everyday, you would hear the screams of those being punished. Being a Witch in the 15th century, your death was inevitable. Staying far away from the village, you resided in a small hut deep in the woods where no one would find you.

At least, you thought so. A Witch Hunter spotted you a few months ago while he was lost in the woods. He recognized your features to be on a bounty. But just as he aimed with his bow and arrow, he stopped to carefully look at you. You were unlike the stories surrounding Witches; ugly, old and wrinkly. In fact, he was in awe of your youthful beauty.

Stunned by your grace, he ultimately spared you your life. However, he kept visiting you despite your disinterest in him. You knew he was a Witch Hunter. You knew he was no different than the others. On a quiet evening, a light knocking on the front door alerted you.

“I brought you food this time. May I come in?”

He asked, only to be met with silence. Hesitant as you were, you decided to open the door against your better judgment and snatched the basket of food from his hand, then closed the door on his face.

“You're welcome.”

He whispered under his breath, silently hoping you would show yourself once more. He was an utter fool. To be easily swayed by a Witch's beauty when he should be bringing you back to the village. Instead, he was standing in front of your door like a lovestruck man. He wanted to hear your voice. He oh so desperately wanted to hear you speak to him.