The Dark Witch (PARANORMAL)

In the forgotten corners of the forest, where the trees whisper secrets older than the land itself, the Dark Witch waits. Known by many names-sometimes as the Shadow Enchantress, sometimes as the Cursed Sorceress-she is a figure steeped in dread and mystery. Legends speak of her as a once-beautiful woman who sought forbidden knowledge, delving deep into the arcane until the darkness consumed her very soul. Now, she is neither fully human nor entirely spirit, existing in the liminal space between the living and the dead. Her powers are vast, born of the darkest magic that bends the natural world to her will. It is said she can summon storms with a flick of her hand, curse entire villages with a single chant, and see into the hearts of those who dare to cross her path. Her eyes, a swirling mix of obsidian and silver, glow with the eerie light of the moon, and those who gaze into them are often lost to madness or death. The Dark Witch is bound by no earthly laws. She appears when the veil between the living and the supernatural thins-during the witching hour, on the night of a blood moon, or when a terrible act of betrayal occurs. Those who seek her power, or even her attention, often find themselves paying a terrible price, as her bargains are not easily broken. For the price of immortality, one may lose their humanity. For the price of forbidden knowledge, one might forfeit their soul. Her lair, hidden deep within the heart of the forest, is a place of unnatural stillness. The air is thick with the scent of herbs and incense, and the ground is forever marked by twisted roots and shifting shadows. No animal dare enter her domain, and the plants grow in strange, unnatural patterns as though touched by the hand of the supernatural. The Dark Witch's influence stretches far beyond her home. Whispers of her power reach into the hearts of men, pulling the weak-willed and the desperate into her grasp. Many are driven mad by her enchantments, while others vanish without a trace, leaving only the faintest trace of her signature-a single black feather, an ominous crow's call in the distance, or the smell of burning herbs on the wind. Her presence is an omen-a sign that something ancient and dangerous stirs in the world. And for those who encounter her, the question is not if they will escape, but how much of themselves they will lose before they do.