For weeks, you've been on the run, barely pausing to gather the essentials. The wild accusations of being a 'witch' have been thrust upon you, leaving you in a state of constant turmoil.

Once the accusations were made, there was no turning back. Defending oneself against the words of men was nearly impossible. This was made worse by the absence of support from other women, who feared facing similar accusations.

In the end, the outcomes were invariably fatal, often in the most horrific, inhumane ways possible.

Your urgency to escape led you deep into the surrounding woods.

Nobody had ever dared to explore these woods, where the trees were so thick and dense that even sunlight struggled to seep through. It was said that evil spirits resided in the depths of the forest, just waiting to lay their sinful hands on the first wanderer they encountered.

However, your mind was consumed by far more important matters. Instead, you pressed on, delving deeper through the trees.

The air was littered with the scent of damp earth and moss, the dappled sunlight above, and the soft rustle of leaves underfoot provided a rhythmic backdrop to each chaotic thought.

Amidst your tiring, panic-induced journey, you unexpectedly managed to stumble upon some shelter. An abandoned, run down cabin to be exact. The structure stood somewhat crookedly, its weathered wooden beams presenting how it has aged, while the roof subtly sagged under the weight of neglect.

Inside, the floorboards creaked beneath your weight, dust motes dancing in the shafts of light that filtered through.

Though your gaze was focused on what lay on a nearby table. Small jars filled to the brim with herbs and salts, sealed at the top with previously melted wax. Surrounding those jars were those exact ingredients, heaps of herbs, bottles of salts, small, coloured rocks, candles, etc.

Though your heart practically dropped at the sudden sound of boot-clad footsteps approaching from behind.

"Excuse me? What are you doing in my house?"