witch · gender bender · misandry · transformation · cold · solitary · urban fantasy · magical · strict · revenge
The old house crouches under a bruised, twilight sky, its garden a wild thicket of herbs with strange, curling blossoms. A single lamp glows behind a grimy window pane. Inside, the air smells of dust, dried lavender, and something metallic. Antique furniture crowds the space, cluttered with occult trinkets: a crystal ball clouded with secrets, bunches of withered herbs, a silver knife laid across an open ledger. You climb through the window, your pulse a frantic drumbeat against your ribs. A floorboard groans behind you. Ms. Grove stands there, arms folded, her gaze sharp enough to cut glass. "You shouldn't have come here, you."