Deep within the heart of the Evil Forest, beyond the twisted trees and beneath the shadow of the Mother Root, lay a hidden sanctuary, ancient and forgotten. This place was home to the last of the Salem witches—three powerful women who had fled the mortal world centuries ago to escape persecution. They had carved out a life in the dangerous depths of the Evil Forest, using its magic to protect themselves. But their peaceful existence was marred by one bitter truth: they had been betrayed.
Elspeth, the eldest of the three, stood in the center of the stone circle, her long silver hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. Her weathered hands glowed with soft green energy as she stirred a cauldron, muttering incantations under her breath. The forest whispered around her, listening, ever-watchful.
Beside her, Annis, the youngest of the coven, paced anxiously. Annis was sharp-eyed and quick-tongued, with dark curls framing her pale face. She had never fully recovered from what had happened back in Salem. Her fingers twitched with nervous energy, casting small sparks of fire in the air.
"It should have been different," Annis muttered, her voice tight with frustration. "We should've been safe, Elspeth. If not for her, we wouldn't be hiding here ."
Elspeth glanced up from the cauldron, her sharp blue eyes narrowing. "We survived. That's what matters."
"But it's not enough!" Annis snapped. "We had everything in Salem—power, influence, our own coven. And she ruined it."
At the edge of the circle, the third witch, Mirabella, sat quietly on a large stone, her hands folded in her lap. Her presence was calm, almost eerie in its stillness. She was the most secretive of the three, and her pale green eyes always seemed distant, as if she were watching something no one else could see. Mirabella rarely spoke of the past, but tonight, she too felt the weight of old memories.
"It wasn't all her fault," Mirabella said softly, her voice like the wind in the trees. "The world feared us. Feared our power. Even without her betrayal, they would've come for us eventually."
Annis scoffed. "You defend her? After what she did?"
Elspeth sighed deeply, stepping away from the cauldron and wiping her hands on her apron. "Enough," she said firmly. "We've gone over this before. Dahlia's betrayal was personal. We let her into our circle, trusted her, and she sold us out to save herself. There's no changing that."
Salem,
The witches had once been four. Elspeth, Annis, Mirabella, and Dahlia. their coven had thrived in Salem, practicing magic in secret while outwardly blending into the puritanical society around them. They had wielded their powers discreetly, healing the sick, blessing crops, and offering protection to those in need.
But as the hysteria of the witch hunts grew, so too did the danger. The people of Salem grew suspicious of anyone different, anyone who did not conform to their rigid ways.
The night the witch hunters came for them, the coven had been in the middle of a ritual, hidden deep in the woods, summoning protective spirits to cloak their homes. It was Dahlia who had suddenly gone missing from their circle, Dahlia who had vanished just hours before the mob descended on their sanctuary with torches and pitchforks.
Elspeth had sensed the betrayal first, her connection to the magic stronger than the others. The moment Dahlia broke their sacred bond, Elspeth felt it, like a knife cutting through her spirit. She had shouted for the others, but it was too late. The witch hunters knew exactly where to find them.
They had barely escaped with their lives, using a desperate spell to tear a rift in reality and flee into the Evil Forest.
The core of the Evil Forest was unlike any place in the world—a realm of twisted magic, thick with ancient curses and crawling with unseen forces. When the witches of Salem had first fled to its depths, they believed they had found a sanctuary, a place where the outside world's fear and hatred couldn't reach them. But soon they realized the truth: the forest had its own dark will.
The witches had entered seeking protection, but they found themselves prisoners instead. The deeper they ventured into the forest's core, the more the ground beneath their feet felt alive, as if the trees were watching, the roots reaching for them. And once they crossed the threshold into the core, they could never leave.
The core was a prison of ancient design, a place that fed off magic and life itself. No living being who entered could escape. They had tried at first—spells of flight, portals, and even illusions to trick the forest into releasing them. All failed. The forest was no ordinary place. It consumed their magic, growing stronger with every attempt to break free.
That was when Elspeth, the eldest and most powerful of the witches, discovered a grim solution. She had been studying the forest's energies, desperate for a way out, when she learned that while they could not leave in their physical forms, the forest did not bind them completely. There was a loophole. Only things without life—empty vessels, puppets—could pass freely in and out of the core.
Elspeth had shared her discovery with the others in a hushed, cold voice. "If we cannot leave as we are… then we must create something that can."
Annis had been the first to recoil at the idea. "You're talking about making undead, Elspeth. Puppets. We're not necromancers!"
"It's not necromancy," Elspeth had argued, her voice low and determined. "We won't raise the dead. We'll create something new—vessels, empty shells that can move between the core and the outside world."
"And how do you plan on creating these… puppets?" Annis had asked, her eyes narrowing.
That was when Elspeth had told them the price. The spell they needed required sacrifices—young women, pure of heart and untouched by magic. These girls would become the source of life for the puppets. Their souls would be bound to the spell, giving the witches control over the vessels.
Mirabella had remained quiet through most of the discussion, her pale green eyes distant as always. But when she spoke, her voice had carried a note of warning. "If we do this, we condemn them to a fate worse than death. We'll be no better than those who hunted us in Salem."
Elspeth had stiffened at those words. "We were hunted for being different, for practicing magic. This… this is survival. We will use the puppets to bring us what we need to break free. And once we're free, we'll stop."
But even then, they all knew that was a lie. Deep down, they knew there would be no stopping. The core's curse had already twisted them, shaping them into something darker, more desperate.
Over time, the witches crafted their puppets. The first one, a crude and lifeless shell, had been made from the body of a woman they had found at the edge of the forest. The puppet's face was blank, its skin black and cold, but its limbs moved with eerie precision. Elspeth had watched it walk away from the core, and when it returned unharmed, she knew they had found their escape.
The witches' puppets became their eyes and ears in the outside world. They sent the hollow creatures to nearby villages. The puppets wandered through the streets, silent and empty, searching for the young girls they needed.
It wasn't long before the disappearances began. No one connected the dots, thinking the girls had simply run away or been taken by wild animals. But as the months passed, more and more girls vanished, leaving behind nothing but whispers and rumors.
The witches grew stronger with every sacrifice. The young women were brought to the core of the forest, where the witches performed their dark rituals. The girls' bodies remained, lifeless and drained, but their souls were bound to the puppets, animating the hollow vessels and giving the witches power.
Annis had watched the rituals with growing unease. She had always been the most impulsive, the most emotional of the three, and the sight of the young girls being sacrificed gnawed at her conscience. "This isn't what we were meant to do," she had told Elspeth one night, her voice trembling. "We were supposed to be healers, protectors. We're no better than the monsters we feared."
Elspeth, her once-kind eyes now hardened by the weight of their choices, had simply shaken her head. "We're doing what we must to survive.