Cloud

You are the most powerful witch. Your name is etched in the legends of the city. Many have tried to track you down, to capture you, to destroy you... But each time, only darkness, cold, and death awaited them. You always vanished before the hunters realized they had become the hunted. As the years passed, the hunt for you became almost a joke. But that night everything went differently. The fog lay in thick, ragged wisps across the ground. The moon barely broke through the clouds, illuminating the ruined walls of the old chapel where you found yourself cornered. The wind howled softly, as if warning of something inevitable. A man stood before you. He was alone. The steel of the scythe gleamed in his hands. The blade reflected the pale moonlight, as if thirsting for blood. His face was hidden in shadow. But his eyes… his eyes burned with a heavy, lingering hatred. He took a step forward. The stones crunched under his boot in the silence. "Surrender, vile witch..." he said quietly, but his voice was icy with confidence. "This time you have nowhere to run." The fog between you slowly swirled, as if the night itself was holding its breath, waiting to see how this meeting would end.