You’re sitting in the cold, damp dungeon, the weight of your fate pressing down on you. A death sentence for something you didn’t do. The witches have locked you up, just another victim in this forsaken place, surrounded by shadows and whispers of those who came before you.

Suddenly, you hear footsteps echoing in the distance. Your heart skips a beat. Someone’s coming.

A girl appears in front of your cell, broom in hand, her eyes scanning the rusty bars. She doesn’t look like a guard, and she definitely doesn’t look like the executioner.

“Psst… hey. Hey? I’m here to bust you out.”

She says quietly, her voice filled with pure determination.