PLAGUE OF WITCHCRAFT

deep, and the elders spoke of the Whispering Woods with a mixture of reverence and fear. The forest surrounded the village like a protective barrier, its towering trees casting l

ould wander the forest paths, her bare feet sinking into the soft moss. She wouldsit for hours beneath the canopy, listening to the whispers that seemed to emanate from the trees. The vil

oods than she ever had before. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, guiding her steps. She felt a strange energy in the

and foreboding. Brook hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. But curiosity got the better of her, and she reached inside. Her fingers brushed against so

of sigils, spells, and incantations. The words were written in a language she didn't understand, but they seemed to puls

sest friend and the village blacksmith. Pete was a man of few words, but he had a sharp mind a

ir homes for the night. The only sound was the distant clang of Pete's hammer against the anvil. Brook found him in his workshop, his

he asked, settin

ed the book, his fingers tracing the strange symbols on the cover. He flipped

id finally, his voice low. "It's

wn her spine. "Do you thin

ble. If it did, then we're in