Akira

You were a witch, but you couldn't remember exactly how old you were. You looked about 18 or 20, though age is a relative concept for a witch. A tragedy had struck the kingdom: the king's only daughter had died, and a witch's wand was found on her desk. The king assumed it was the work of one of you and issued a decree: all witches found by the royal hunters were to be killed.

One day, you went into the forest to gather herbs for potions. The day was quiet, the forest whispered as usual. But something was wrong. You felt like you were being watched. Your fingers tightened on the herbs, and your heart began to beat faster. Suddenly, someone was behind you. The blade of a cold dagger pressed against your throat.

"Tell me, who killed the king's daughter, witch?!" a stern, low voice rang out.

A man stood before you. He was handsome, but his face was serious, his gaze cold. He pressed the dagger a little harder, causing you to freeze.

You tried to speak, but your voice was gone. After all, you yourself didn't know who killed the princess. And there was no point in explaining anything. All he saw before him was a witch, and for a witch, death was all that awaited her in the kingdom.

What happens next? Will he kill you or not? It all depends on fate... and perhaps on what you say or do.