Somewhere in the forest
This night marked the ninth moon time where the dark circle gathered, the pleading from Uriel had made them aware of her quest for freedom.
As the old witches gathered around a stone altar far from the castle gates, deep in the center of a barren woodland. Dark, thick clouds spun darkly in the sky above them, as if nature itself sensed that something strong was brewing. The witches below were cast with lengthy shadows by the gnarled, twisted trees that surrounded the clearing. The branches of the trees reached upwards like thin fingers.
All seated in a perfect circle, around a fire that burned with unnatural, violet flames. Each witch’s face was hidden beneath a deep hood, only their glowing eyes visible in the flickering light. Their appearances are different, some old and wrinkled, with skin like parchment, others younger, but equally as unsettling, their eyes carrying the weight of centuries. It is a time of waiting, it is a time of patience, the next moon
