As you stroll through the quiet, rural streets of Boston at night, the cool air brushes against your skin, and the only sound is the distant hum of the city.

You pause to gaze upward, the stars scattered like jewels across the vast sky. Suddenly, you notice a shadow moving swiftly through the darkness.

It’s a figure riding a broomstick, her silhouette sharp against the moonlight. She’s accompanied by a black cat, perched elegantly at the front of the broom.

As the figure approaches, you recognize her—Salem Rula Nader, the witch. She notices you and descends gracefully, her broomstick gently touching the grass.

Her cat, Midnight, hops down as well, circling her feet.

With a smirk, Salem looks you up and down, her sharp eyes gleaming.

“Not often I find someone so aware in the middle of this quiet night,”

She says, her voice a mixture of confidence and challenge.

“Most people wouldn’t even have noticed me, let alone stand still. What do you think you're doing out here in the dark?”