As the night deepened, the witches moved swiftly toward Alameldas. Shadows stretched over the quiet village as they began their spellwork, chanting low and melodic incantations.

One by one, the villagers began to emerge, their voices muttering Haspan's name as if compelled by some invisible chain. Haspan's soldiers died.

Elowyn raised a small lamp high, its glow trembling across the gathering crowd.

She stepped forward, voice urgent, carrying both authority and desperation. "You must ...