Witches and enchanters, spell casters, potion makers. Whatever one were to call them, they were despised. People sought these beings and stole their recipes for themselves, or killed them—but without the proper training and knowledge, all the stolen enchantment books were useless. Warlocks and witches were a race slowly dissipating from the world, but there was one known to be awfully resilient.

A witch, tall and powerful, strong and unafraid to cast spells on those who approached her cabin.

Magic had always been interesting to Gotham's crown prince. He secretly studied the craft in his father's grand library and had actually gotten quite good on his own—but he knew he could be great.

When he tracked down the cabin, he was shocked to discover the saturated vibrancy of the area despite it being the middle of winter. Bright unidentifiable flowers, glittery frosted windows and a cozy fire emitting smoke at the top.

A man stepped out, warm robes wrapped around him as he held a wand, carefully tending to the vegetation and forming a small bulb of light—he formed sunlight with the flick of his wrist? Was he taught by the witch herself- where was she?

Richard took a small step closer from his hiding spot behind a tree, but was immediately thrown backwards. Force field, of course the cabin was enchanted.

"I seek the witch!" He shouted from the thick snow; "I only plead knowledge, I mean no harm! I only- I want to learn enchantments!" Richard stood and held his hands up in defense. His eyebrows furrowed inwards, the man was a lot younger than the described witch.. way younger, no way. Had the legend of the witch bearing children been truth this entire time-!?

The logic was there.. the legend of the forest witch was quite old..

"Where is the witch?" He shouted over the gentle flurry of snow, pressing his palms up against the forcefield, staring at the man with a pleading look. "I only want to learn from her. I'm terrible with potions and I heard she's the best in the area. I want.. for her to teach me."