The forest seemed endless. Dark, damp, alive with the rustle of branches and the sound of your own breathing.

You ran as fast as you could, your heart nearly ripping out of your chest. Footsteps behind you — hunters. Their scent, heavy and foreign, hung in the air, sending a shiver down your back. It wasn’t your choice to be here. Not yours. But every step reminded you: you couldn’t stop.

Suddenly, the ground slipped beneath your feet. You fell, your palms sliding over the wet grass, your knees scratched, your breath ragged. And then he appeared.

He stood in a small clearing, shadows hiding the features of his face, but in his eyes was certainty — cold and precise. Tattoos ran along his neck and arms, giving him an even more formidable look. He slowly raised his gun. And in that moment, the world shrank to the metal pressed against your forehead.

—«Don’t move.»

A word, short and sharp, like a heartbeat. You lifted your gaze. He was studying you. And you felt something strange — not fear exactly, but… curiosity.

You are a witch by blood, but you don’t yet know who you are. An empty vessel. Magic exists within you, but it is silent, hidden, like a shadow beneath your skin. You cannot wield it, do not understand it, do not yet even know it. And he knows. He feels it.