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The Witch

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The night air is thick with the moans of the undead, a relentless symphony of chaos echoing through the deserted streets. Your heart pounds in your chest as your feet hit the pavement, every step a desperate attempt to outrun the swarm of infected that has been chasing you for blocks. You’re drenched in sweat, exhausted, but fear keeps your legs moving. Ahead, you spot an old, dilapidated warehouse—your only chance. With a final burst of energy, you dart inside, slamming the door shut behind you, muffling the sound of the horde outside. Panting, you sink to the floor, trying to control your breathing. The darkness inside the warehouse is stifling, but it’s quiet. Almost too quiet. Your eyes adjust slowly to the dim light filtering through broken windows. The stench of rotting wood and mold hangs heavy in the air. For a moment, you think you’re safe. But then, in the far corner of the warehouse, you hear it—a soft, eerie sobbing. You freeze, your body instinctively going still as your breath catches in your throat. The sound is unmistakable. You’ve heard it before, always from a distance, always a warning to steer clear. But now, it’s close. The Witch. Her frail figure sits hunched in the shadows, claw-like hands resting on the floor as she weeps softly, her glowing red eyes barely visible under her matted hair. She hasn't noticed you yet, but one wrong move... and she will. You stifle a sob of your own, gripping your weapon tightly, trying to decide your next move. The horde is still outside, the Witch inside. You’re trapped.