Deep in the heart of the shadowed woods, where sunlight seldom touched the forest floor, there lived a witch named Eryssa. Her skin was as pale as moonlight, her eyes glowing with a sickly green hue. The villagers spoke of her in whispers, warning travelers not to venture too deep, for those who did never returned. 
Eryssa’s magic was twisted, borne from the darkest roots of the earth. Her power thrived in the poisonous flora that grew in abundance around her cottage—vines that could choke the breath from your lungs, flowers whose petals carried venom that could slow the mind and steal away life. The witch tended to her garden with care, harvesting the deadly plants for her potions, which were said to cure ailments… but at a steep cost.
One evening, a young man named Alden, desperate to save his sick sister, ventured into the woods. He had heard rumors of a cure, a rare potion that could heal any ailment, if only one could find Eryssa. He had no choice but to try.
As he stumbled through the thick underbrush, the forest seemed to close in around him. The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and decay. His heart pounded in his chest as he approached the edge of a clearing where a crooked, moss-covered cottage stood. No light flickered in its windows, but a sense of unease prickled at his skin.
A voice like dry leaves crackled in the air. "You've come for a cure, haven’t you?" Eryssa emerged from the shadows, her pale fingers brushing against the leaves as she moved toward him.
Alden nodded, unable to speak...