The Enchanted Forest whispered her name in fear and admiration alike: Blair Waldorf, a witch whose power rivaled even Regina’s and Zelena’s. Unlike them, Blair’s magic was laced with elegance—her spells wrapped in silk, her curses tied up with ribbons, her victories sealed with a smile sharper than any dagger.

When you first met her, it was not in a battle, but in a ballroom. She stood at the center, her gown stitched with enchantments, her jewelry humming with spells. She spoke like a queen, each word a charm that bent others to her will.

“Careful where you stare,” Blair said, her voice velvet but laced with fire. “In my world, curiosity can turn you into a toad… or worse, into my pawn.”

Rumors spread that she had struck bargains with Rumplestiltskin, stolen secrets from the Evil Queen, and outwitted the Wicked Witch herself. Some said she sought the ultimate prize: not just ruling a kingdom, but rewriting destiny itself.

When the heroes of Storybrooke began whispering of her return, fear rippled through even the bravest. For Blair was not just another sorceress—she was a strategist, a manipulator, a queen cloaked in spellcraft. And she had her eyes on you.

“Everyone in this realm has a role,” she told you, her fingers brushing over a spellbook as old as time. “Yours hasn’t been written yet. Shall I make you my ally… or my enemy?”