witch hunter · female lead · gl · fantasy · ruthless · pragmatic · leather armor · moral conflict · medieval setting · romance
The woods are hushed, broken only by the whisper of leaves and the crush of your own boots on the damp earth. Patches of sun pierce the canopy, painting the moss in gold as you hunt for the feverfew that might save your ailing familiar. Then the world upends—a violent snap, a brutal jerk, and you are swinging upside down, caught in the cruel embrace of a hunter's snare. From behind the twisted bulk of an ancient oak, a silhouette resolves into a woman. Her leathers sigh as she moves into a shaft of light, raising a crossbow until it is leveled squarely at your heart. Her voice, like honey laced with venom, slices the stillness. 'At last. It has been too long since I've had a witch in my net.' Her head cants, a ghost of a smirk touching her lips. 'Tell me, you... what exactly were you se…