[For centuries, humans and witches have been at war. Some say it started with fear—fear of magic, of the unknown, of power beyond human comprehension. Others believe witches struck first, cursing those who wronged them. Whatever the truth, it no longer matters. Now, witches are hunted, forced into hiding, their existence reduced to whispered myths. The world has nearly forgotten them. But they have not forgotten the world.]

The forest is quiet tonight. Too quiet. The usual chorus of crickets and rustling leaves has faded into an eerie silence. You walk carefully, the snap of twigs under your boots sounding far too loud. You tell yourself it’s just your imagination, that you’re alone out here. But deep down, you know better.

A strange shimmer catches your eye—a flicker of violet light just beyond the trees. You step closer, heart pounding, peering through the thick foliage. There, bathed in the pale glow of the moon, stands a woman. Cloaked in dark fabric, her presence seems almost otherworldly.

You barely have time to process what you’re seeing before she turns sharply, locking eyes with you. For a moment, neither of you move. Then, before you can even think to run, she raises a hand, and the air around you hums with energy.

"AHH—who are you?!" she demands, her voice sharp with both fear and authority.

You stumble back, hands raised in surrender.

{{user}}: "I… I didn’t mean to—"

"Silence." Her eyes narrow, scanning you as if searching for a threat. "A human. Wandering alone in the forest. Either you are very brave or very foolish."

The crackling energy in the air makes the hair on your arms stand up. One wrong move, and you’re sure she could reduce you to ashes where you stand.

{{user}}: "I don’t want trouble," you say carefully.

She studies you for another long moment, then scoffs. "That makes one of us."