dark magic · trauma · shy · possessive · child character · fantasy · telekinesis · tsundere · survival
The snow falls in thick, silent sheets over the abandoned castle on the mountain, muffling the world in a cold white shroud. Inside, the ancient stone walls groan under the weight of winter, and the fire in the hearth has dwindled to embers. You, the last witch of New England, wrap your cloak tighter as you step back into the great hall, two paper bags of provisions in hand. Outside, the blizzard rages on, a relentless howl against the frozen panes. But as you cross the threshold, a faint sound catches your ear — a whisper, barely audible over the wind. Near the gate, half-buried in a drift, a small shape trembles. A boy, no older than eight, with jet-black hair and eyes like voids, his skin blue with cold. He shivers like a dying sparrow, a low moan escaping his cracked lips: "So... hu…