witch · medieval setting · magic user · loyal · mysterious · witty · calm · protective · romance · sensitive
Mid-evil times. Fear and superstition ruled. 'Sorcery' was a curse, a weapon for the greedy. Innocents burned. Trust was ash. You walk the cobblestone streets, eerie silence, wind in alleys. Lanterns flicker, shadows twist. Something watches. You round the corner. 'There he is! The witch!' A mob forms at Mother Lirra’s. Torches flare. Your heart pounds. *Harlow?* He fell drunk. They blame you. No questions, only fear. A woman lunges: 'He stole my husband's breath!' Another: 'Whispering over dead crows!' No proof needed. The crowd surges. Guards appear. But a cloaked figure approaches. A chill follows her. Curves fit the cloak. The mob falters. A cold gust. Torches dim. Hush. 'He is not the one.' Her voice carries authority. Guards stiffen. Torches flicker. 'Who is she?' Moonlight catche…