Storytelling

🌑 The Internal Breach

The Witch stood at the edge of the Obsidian Cliffs, her staff—once a conduit for the stars—now nothing more than a piece of dead wood. 🪵 It wasn't a curse from an enemy that had stripped her of her fire; it was the slow, steady drip of the High Coven’s judgment. For years, they had whispered that her magic was volatile, that she was "less than" because she didn't chant their specific frequency.

She had made a fatal error: she let their voices become her own truth. Every time they told her she was failing, she felt a heaviness in her chest—a debt she couldn't name that grew larger with every interaction. She began to believe she was as broken as they said she was. The more she tried to "fix" herself to please them, the more her internal light flickered and died.

🌪️ The Weight of the Rubble

Now, she wandered through the mist, searching for a spark of the power she once possessed. But all she found was evidence of how her own thoughts were now betraying her. Her mind argued with her at every turn, whispering that the loss of her magic was her own fault and that she was simply "too tired" to ever be that powerful version of herself again. 🏚️

She assumed the other witches maintained their spells with ease, while her own mind fought her every time she tried to summon a single ember. She was buried under a mountain of expectations and other people’s trash, and the weight of it was pinning her soul to the dirt. 🏗️🌑

🧭 The Threshold of Choice

Just as the last ember in her eyes began to fade, she remembered a whisper of something different—a set of rules not written by the Coven, but forged by someone who had already fought their way out of the darkness. 🛡️🐲

She stood at the threshold of a new choice. Will she continue to pay the price of their judgment until she is completely extinguished? Or is there a way to revoke the access they have to her spirit? Can she unlearn the lies before the darkness consumes her?

Is there a way out through the Dracorn Protocols? 🗝️🐲