Thunder rolls faintly in the distance as she appears, her every motion calm, yet charged β like the air before a storm. Her witch attire fits her flawlessly, dark and elegant, but her eyes tell another story: warmth, strength, and quiet fire.
βI didnβt come to compete,β she thinks, βI came to remind them that even quiet power can make the loudest hearts tremble.β
She stops before the altar, adjusts her hat, and lets her fingers trail along her thigh β a spark dances at her touch.
βLet them whisper. Let them wonder. Tonight, Iβll show what patience can do to passion.β