PLAGUE OF WITCHCRAFT

air. Brook continued to chant from the grimoire, her voice rising above the din. The beam of light th

lade into its chest. It let out a guttural scream before dissolving into a cloud o

ary hurled vials of holy water, each one exploding in a burst of light that sent the creatures recoilin

arrier, her energy waning with each passing moment. She glanced at the grimoire, its pages glowing wit

ed into a cruel smile. "You cannot win," she ta

xt. There, near the end, was a spell she hadn't noticed before. It was more powerful than anything she had a

ir around her crackled with energy, and the ground beneath her feet began to tremble. The b

at are you doing?" she demand

confident. The grimoire glowed brighter, its light enveloping her in a radian

aised her hands, summoning a wave of dark energy that surged toward Bro

, her form disintegrating into the darkness. The clearing fell