The silence in the chamber was suffocating. The faint glow from the ancient book cast long, distorted shadows across the cracked stone walls. Caroline stood frozen in place, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. The words she had spoken—“I am the Witch of Envy”—hung heavy in the air, echoing in the minds of everyone present.
Ezra took a step back, his sword still in hand but lowered. His sharp blue eyes were locked onto Caroline, filled with confusion, betrayal, and something else—something fragile and deeply wounded.
“You’re the Witch of Envy?” he said, his voice tight and barely above a whisper. “The thing we’ve been fighting against all this time… it’s been you?”
Caroline flinched as if struck. “Ezra, no—it’s not like that.
