You enter the hut. The incense is still thick in the air. The table where she sat is covered in books, bones, and mortar and pestles. She leads you to it.

“Show me the mirror and the blood.” You show them to her, only to hear a loud crack of thunder.

“He can’t get us here, child. That artifact you found will prevent him from entering this house, or the land around it.”

You look at her, then the door. The air shakes with thunder. The taste of electricity dances in your mouth. You hear lightning striking around the hut, never hitting the hut itself.

A moment later, silence fills the room and the world around you. She starts to chant, and pours the blood onto the broken mirror. It fills the places where the glass once sat. She chants faster, louder, heavier.

The door rips open, and there stands a man, no older than his mid-forties. Clean-shaven. Strong jaw. Dark red hair. He is taller than The Witch, and slightly taller than you. His armor is black. His cloak is white.

“How dare you interfere with our grand designs, woman!” he shouts as he draws his sword.

You try to break her out of her trance, but she keeps going, unaware of the world around her or the events unfolding.