The night sky stretched endlessly above the small, dying town. The last remnants of light drained slowly, leaving only a purple hue on the horizon. The wind blew through the empty streets, brushing the abandoned houses and rusted cars.
The silence was suffocating, yet the smell of decay hung in the air like a constant reminder that this place was no longer alive.
A figure stood at the edge of the town. Tall, thin, their hands buried deep in the pockets of a tattered coat. The air felt heavier here, like it was saturated with something malignant, something ancient. The figure's name was Claire.
She had once lived in this town, years ago, before everything changed. Now, she was a stranger in the place she once called home, unsure of what had happened to the world—or to herself.
As Claire walked down the main street, her boots crunching on the scattered glass and gravel, she tried to remember what had led her to this moment. She had heard the rumors, whispers on the edge of town, of witches—of dark magic spreading across the world.
At first, it seemed like nothing more than hysteria, some crazy tales spun by frightened people. But then she'd seen it. Magic. Real magic. Not the kind of thing you read about in books, but something visceral, something horrifying. Something that shouldn't exist.
The town was quiet. Too quiet.
She passed the old church, its doors cracked open like the mouth of some forgotten creature. Inside, she could hear the faint sound of chanting. It was soft, distant, like a funeral hymn carried on the wind.
Claire stopped and listened. It wasn't like anything she had ever heard before. It felt wrong, almost as if the earth itself was trying to escape the sound.
With a deep breath, Claire stepped inside.
The air inside was cold and musty, filled with the smell of old wood and stale incense. The candles that once lit the altar were now reduced to melted pools of wax. The walls were covered in strange symbols, drawn in blood, faded and cracking. The floor was littered with discarded bones, fragments of some forgotten ritual.
And there, at the altar, stood a woman. She was tall, dressed in robes that swirled around her like smoke. Her face was pale, eyes wide and empty, as if she were staring into something far beyond the present. Her hands moved in slow, deliberate gestures, weaving patterns in the air, the magic thick around her.
Claire felt the pull of the magic, like a tug in her chest. It was overwhelming, suffocating. It wanted her to come closer, to join the woman, to give in to whatever dark force had taken hold of this town.
But Claire fought it, pulling her hands from her pockets and gripping the edges of the doorframe, her knuckles white.
The woman at the altar turned, her gaze locking onto Claire's. There was no recognition in her eyes—only a void. A deep, unfeeling void.
"I didn't want this," Claire said, her voice trembling. "I didn't ask for this."
The woman tilted her head, her mouth curling into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "None of us did," she said, her voice hollow, like it came from somewhere deep within the earth. "But now, it's too late."
Claire felt the cold air rush past her, and she staggered back, eyes wide in disbelief. The town was changing—its very foundation was shifting beneath her feet. The sky above darkened, clouds swirling in unnatural patterns. The wind howled, picking up pieces of debris and hurling them against the walls of the church.
"You've been waiting for this, haven't you?" Claire's voice was barely a whisper, though she didn't need to speak for the answer to come. The woman's smile grew wider, if that was even possible.
"Yes. We've all been waiting. The witches are coming. The world will be ours. It already is."
The chanting from the altar grew louder, more insistent. Claire pressed her hands to her ears, trying to block out the sound, but it was too late. The magic was already inside her, curling around her heart, suffocating her. She could feel the weight of it, the power pressing down on her chest, making it harder to breathe.
She wanted to run, to escape, but there was nowhere left to go. The town had already fallen, and so had everything outside of it. The world was crumbling, consumed by something far older, far darker than anything she had ever imagined.
She turned and fled, the sound of the woman's laughter echoing in her ears. She ran through the streets, stumbling over broken glass and debris, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the magic chasing her, dragging her back toward the church. She could hear it calling her name.
Claire stumbled into an alleyway, pressing her back against the cold brick of a nearby building. She didn't know where to go, what to do. Her mind raced, trying to think of a way to stop this, to fix it, but there was no fixing it. The witches had won. The world was already theirs.
A shadow fell over her, and Claire looked up, her heart sinking. Standing at the entrance to the alley was another woman, her face obscured by a hood. She stepped forward, the movement smooth and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey.
"You shouldn't have come back," the woman said, her voice smooth, like the surface of a still lake. "It's too late for you."
Claire's stomach twisted, and she took a step back, her body trembling. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to become part of whatever nightmare had taken over this place. But there was no escape.
The woman smiled, her eyes glowing with an unnatural light. "We've already won. You can't run from us. We control the world now."
Claire's breath hitched in her throat. "But why? Why are you doing this? What do you want?"
The woman tilted her head, as if the question itself was amusing. "What do we want? Power. Control. We've always wanted it. But now, we have it. And the rest of the world? They're just pawns in our game. They'll serve us, or they'll die."
Claire took a step forward, anger bubbling up inside her. "No. I won't let you. I won't let you destroy everything."
The woman's smile faded, replaced with a look of cold indifference. "You don't understand, do you? You never will."
Before Claire could react, the woman raised her hand, and the ground beneath Claire's feet trembled. The earth cracked, and the air became thick with magic, the scent of sulfur and decay filling her nose. The world around her seemed to warp and twist, reality itself bending to the witches' will.
Claire collapsed to the ground, clutching at her chest as the pain coursed through her. The magic was suffocating, choking her, and she could feel her body weakening. She had no strength left. She was powerless.
With a final, desperate breath, Claire's vision blurred, and the world around her seemed to collapse into darkness. But even in that moment, as she felt her life slipping away, she could hear the sound of the woman's voice, distant and cruel.
"Welcome to the new world."