"Seemsss... like we're almost there, sister," slithered one of the hooded witches in black, her forged tongue tasting the thick, charged air as they stopped before a cluster of old birch trees.
The ground beneath their boots pulsed faintly, threads of power running like veins through the snow. A faint shimmer, almost invisible, danced before them.
It was definitely the barrier.
"Careful," hissed the other witch, her eyes gleaming silver under the early morning rise. "This protection seems to be the one that shouldn't be trifled with."
