Malefica stood calmly, facing Cassandra, while the distant forest echoed with the thunder of ongoing battles and an occasional flash of light burst through the trees.
The two witches were poised in absolute silence, powerful magic rippling off their forms, turning the very air around them electric. Snowflakes drifted gently, frozen in place by the charged tension, as if nature itself had stilled to witness this fateful encounter.
Cassandra was seething, her anger barely restrained, yet under her fury lay a gnawing fear.
This wasn't the sanctuary of Evergreen City, where Malefica's curse limited her to three spells a day, but even here, outside those bounds, Cassandra knew she was facing the Witch of the Night.
The tales of Malefica's power were legendary—she was the witch who had, with a single spell, brought the entire coven to its knees fifty years ago.
