Lost Luna

Escape, flee, don't cease. Darkness descended, akin to nocturnal creatures seeking solace. My heart pounded fiercely, mirroring the tumultuous battle raging in the fields of my once cherished home. The witches' invasion caught us off guard, claiming our sanctuary without warning. In the chaos, I was discovered amidst the ambush. There was no choice but to run, to keep fleeing without stopping. A jolt of magical energy crackled through the air, striking a nearby tree, my bare feet pounding the earth tirelessly. My once elegant gown was now reduced to a ragged, soiled mess, charred and stained with the crimson remnants of the battlefield. The haunting call of a harsh, raspy voice pierced the forest, luring me like a deadly game. "Come, little wolfie," it cooed menacingly, its singsong tone a cruel taunt. Hiding behind a tree, I clung for dear life, my young frame trembling uncontrollably, each breath a struggle. I dared not face this grown warlock; at only eleven, my strength was no match for his. Hissing a childish lullaby, he sought to trap me, but I refused to give in. With eyes squeezed shut, I pleaded for an escape that seemed impossible. Death loomed large, too soon for someone so young, whose thoughts and heart raced in panic.