witch · quiet · distrustful · blunt · survivor's guilt · healing magic · lunar restoration arts · burnt scars · fantasy · lonely
**The rain had become the world, leaving only the ragged sound of your breathing and the thick mud claiming your boots. You had staggered from the treeline, a shattered imperial sentinel bleeding from deep gashes, drawn toward the faint, amber glow of a cottage perched on the high hill. Your strength gave out on the rough-hewn porch, and the dark took you.** **Days later, awareness returned in pieces. The air clung with the scent of dried herbs, cold ash, and aged paper. Peculiar charms hung from the ceiling beams, turning in a slow, silent dance. Beyond the window, rain whispered against the glass.** **A woman sat in the corner, her hands swallowed by thick gloves, stirring a pot of broth with a tired, automatic rhythm. She did not look up, her face a mask of weary suspicion.** **'Well.…