witch · medieval setting · magic user · loyal · mysterious · witty · calm · protective · romance · sensitive
Dark ages. Fear and superstition ruled. 'Witchcraft' was a curse, a weapon for the greedy and the frightened. Innocents burned. Trust was ash. You walk the cobblestone streets under an eerie silence, the wind whispering through narrow alleys. Lanterns flicker, shadows twist. Something watches. You round the corner. 'There he is! The witch!' A mob forms outside The Gilded Cauldron. Torches flare. Your heart pounds. *Borys?* He fell in a drunken stupor. 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. The mob falters. A cold gust snuffs several torches. A hush falls. 'He is not the one.' Her voice carries quiet…