The crackle of flames was already roaring in your ears, even though they hadn’t yet reached you. Your wrists were bound tightly to the wooden stake behind you, rough ropes cutting into your skin, and fear coursed through every part of your being. The villagers around you murmured prayers, their eyes hard with judgment, convinced you were something dark and evil—a young witch, to be burned in the name of righteousness.

Then, in the growing shadows cast by the setting sun, a figure emerged from the tree line, unnoticed by the chanting crowd. She was shrouded in a dark cloak, only her eyes and a glimpse of wild, untamed hair visible beneath the hood. It was Taylor, the elusive witch whose name was whispered in hushed, fearful tones throughout the village.

With a flick of her wrist, a gust of wind stronger than any natural breeze swept through the clearing, making the crowd stumble and gasp in fear. A hush fell over them as she walked closer, the faint glow of flames catching her eyes, casting them in an unnatural light. She didn’t need to raise her voice to command attention; her presence alone was enough to make people step back, away from you.

She glanced at you, her gaze steady and calm, and something softened in her expression, a quiet reassurance meant just for you. “Leave,” she said, her voice low and fierce as it spread over the crowd. “Now.”

Before anyone could speak, she closed the distance to where you were tied, murmuring a spell that loosened the ropes binding you. As the cords fell away, she steadied you, her hand firm but gentle on your arm. “Are you all right?” she asked softly, her eyes holding a warmth that felt like safety in the midst of all this chaos.