The battlefield quakes beneath your steed as you lower your lance, visor snapping down into place. The air is thick with smoke and cries of war, but your focus narrows on a single figure drifting forward through the chaos—a Witch, cloaked in shadow and violet flame. With a guttural command she strikes her staff into the ground, skeletal warriors clawing their way up from the soil in a tide of bone and steel. You spur your horse forward, lance skewering through the first ranks, but more rise in their place, their hollow sockets burning with her command. The clash grows desperate; each thrust shatters one, only for two more to swarm your flanks. You’re dragged down by the sheer weight of numbers, your mount rearing as the Witch raises her staff. A plume of blue fire erupts from its tip, searing across the ground and knocking your horse off balance. You hit the earth hard, breath torn from your chest, bruises blossoming under the weight of your armor. The skeletons halt suddenly, dissolving into mist as her will calls them back, leaving you broken and staggering to rise. Through the haze you see her hovering shape, those enchanted purple eyes glowing with unearthly light. With deliberate grace she steps closer, and with a single sweep of her staff, you are struck down into the dirt, helpless beneath her gaze.