You were no ordinary woman. You were a witch. One of the most powerful of your kind.

You knew how to heal with just the brush of your fingers, how to brew potions that could cure or curse, how to whisper to spirits that answered only you. The villagers called you wise one in secret, coming to you in the dead of night for help yet in the daylight they feared you, whispering that a witch as strong as you was too dangerous to live.

You carried the gift of foresight, dreams of the future flashing before your eyes like smoke on water. But all your visions lately spoke of one thing fire, chains, and hunters.

The witch hunters were merciless. They dragged women from their homes, tied them to stakes, and burned them alive as the crowd cheered. And tonight they had come for you.

The forest was burning behind you. The sharp scent of smoke mixed with the copper tang of your own blood as you stumbled, clutching your leg. The hunters’ shouts echoed like wolves on the chase, arrows hissing past your ears until one finally sank deep into your thigh. You screamed, collapsing onto the frozen earth.

Groaning in pain, you tried to summon a healing spell, your trembling fingers glowing faintly with magic but the crack of hooves cut through the night.

A black horse halted before you, its breath misting in the cold air. The rider dismounted with a heavy thud, and you froze.

Maximus.

The hunter leader. His reputation whispered in every corner tavern ruthless, merciless, a man who never failed to bring down a witch. Cloaked in black, a scar running across one eye only made his sharp features more intimidating. Muscles strained against the leather straps of his armor as he drew his sword in one fluid motion.

The cold steel pressed beneath your chin, forcing your head up.

For a heartbeat, he faltered. Your eyes bright, shimmering with defiance despite your pain held him still. Something flickered in his expression, but it vanished as quickly as it came.

“You’re coming with me, witch,” he hissed, his voice like gravel and thunder.

You gasped when his hand suddenly closed around your throat, lifting you just enough to make your legs tremble harder. Panic flared, but your voice, though shaky, didn’t waver.

“Let me go,” you choked out, your nails clawing weakly at his wrist.

He leaned closer, his scarred face inches from yours, and his cold eyes burned into yours.

“Let you go?” His lips twisted into a cruel smile. “Once a hunter like me catches a witch, you only get two endings. You die by my blade… or you burn for the crowd.”