About a wicked witch who is actually just misunderstood.
She's the only one who knows how to fix the village problem (plagues, failing crops ), but the cures taste gross and involve "scary" ingredients so they assume that it's poison .
Her ancestors was actually a legendary villain , and she just inherited the spooky castle and the family unfortunate eyebrows .
She just wants to be left alone to garden,but people keep trespassing .Her "curses" are actually very aggressive "keep off the grass" signs.
Chapter 1: The Hero and the Laundry
The heavy oak doors of the Obsidian Spire didn't creak open with the groan of ancient hinges. They slid open with a sharp click because Elara had recently oiled them.
"Vile enchantress!" a voice cracked from the foyer.
Elara didn't look up from her cauldron. She wasn't brewing a Draught of Eternal Sleep; she was trying to get a stubborn beet stain out of her favorite tunic. "Wipe your boots," she called out. "I just waxed the flagstones."
Sir Julian of Oakhaven, a knight whose armor was so shiny it was legally a traffic hazard, marched into the kitchen. He drew a sword that looked like it cost more than Elara's entire education. "Release the Princess of Oakhaven at once, or face the wrath of—"
"She's in the garden," Elara interrupted, finally looking up. She wiped a smudge of soap suds off her nose.
The knight blinked. "Locked in a cage of thorns?"
"No, she's weeding the kale. It's therapeutic." Elara sighed. "Look, Sir Julian, is it? Princess Mirella is hiding from her father because he's trying to marry her off to a Duke who smells like wet ham. She's paying me three gold pieces a week to tell everyone I've cursed her. It's a business arrangement. Do you want tea? I have chamomile, or I have 'The Tea of Utter Despair,' which is just chamomile that I accidentally burnt."
Julian lowered his sword, looking deflated. "But... the rumors. The black fog? The screams in the night?"
"The fog is a dehumidifier for my herb garden. And the 'screams' are just Mirella. She's learning the bagpipes. It's... a process."
Chapter 2: The Village Bureaucracy
For a week, things were peaceful. Julian stayed, mostly because he realized his shiny armor was terrible for actual combat but great for reflecting light while he helped Mirella with the kale. Elara found herself enjoying the company, even if she'd never admit it.
But the village of Oakhaven was not content. Mayor Pips, a man whose soul was approximately 90% starch, appeared at the Spire's gate with a mob. Not a pitchfork mob—a paperwork mob.
"Elara Thorne!" Pips bellowed through a megaphone. "You are in violation of Oakhaven Zoning Ordinance 4-B! This tower is an eyesore, your 'familiar' is not on a leash, and you haven't paid the 'Spooky Dwelling' tax in three years!"
"It's not spooky, it's Gothic!" Elara shouted back from her balcony.
"And furthermore," Pips added, his voice dropping to a sinister chill, "we have hired a real professional to handle your... irregularities."
Out of the crowd stepped Malakor the Stern. He was a Witch-Hunter by trade, draped in enough leather and silver chains to sink a small boat. Unlike Julian, Malakor didn't care about princesses or kale. He cared about "cleansing."
Chapter 3: The Not-So-Great Cleansing
Malakor didn't wait for an invitation. He began chanting in a language that sounded like gravel in a blender. Dark, oily energy began to swirl around the base of the Spire.
"Wait!" Elara yelled, leaning over the railing. "That's a Grade-6 Entropic Surge! You don't have the grounding for that! You'll destabilize the—"
BOOM.
Malakor's spell didn't destroy the tower. Instead, it backfired, feeding off the natural ley lines Elara had spent years carefully pruning. The ground heaved. A giant, purple, sentient bramble—the result of Malakor's magic hitting Elara's super-fertilized garden—erupted from the earth. It instantly snatched Mayor Pips by the ankles and began swinging him like a pendulum.
"Help!" the Mayor shrieked. "I'm being harassed by shrubbery!"
The villagers fled. Malakor, seeing his magic go rogue, did the professional thing: he tripped over his own chains and ran away.
Chapter 4: The Wicked Solution
Elara looked at the chaos. She could just stay inside. She could let the purple bramble turn the village square into a salad bar.
"Elara," Mirella said, standing beside her with a bagpipe in hand. "They're idiots, but they're our idiots."
Elara groaned. "Fine. Julian, get the vinegar from the pantry. Large bottles. Mirella, start playing. The high notes. The ones that make my teeth ache."
Elara descended the tower, not with a wand, but with a spray bottle and a look of intense annoyance. As Mirella blasted a truly horrific rendition of "The King's Gallop" on the bagpipes, the sentient bramble recoiled in sonic pain. Elara moved in, spraying the vinegar-salt solution on the plant's core.
With a hiss of steam and a very dramatic wilt, the monster collapsed. Mayor Pips was dropped unceremoniously into a compost pile.
Chapter 5: The New Normal
The silence that followed was heavy. The villagers crept back, staring at the "wicked" witch who was currently helping the Mayor pick eggshells out of his hair.
"You saved us," Julian said, beaming.
"I saved my garden," Elara snapped, though she didn't pull her hand away when a little girl from the village offered her a wilted daisy. "And if any of you step on my moss again, I will turn you into a toad. Not a permanent toad, just a weekend toad. For reflection."
Mayor Pips cleared his throat, adjusting his spectacles. "Well. I suppose we could waive the Zoning Ordinance. Provided... you provide the village with those pest-control potions? The ones that don't scream?"
Elara smirked. "It'll cost you. Double the usual rate."
Today, the Obsidian Spire is still dark and imposing. There is still a sign that says "Beware of the Witch." But underneath it, in much smaller, friendlier letters, it says: "Consultations by appointment only. Please wipe your boots. Bagpipe lessons on Tuesdays."
The end !!