A young villager with a spark was once born, unlike the others of its kind, this particular Villager had great curiosity. Farming, socializing, and grouping with others of its kind during sieges did not interest it; t would rather climb walls, scale roofs, and read stories from the library of their village. One day it came across a book, a book that did not belong to a shelf, or any particular one in that library. It glowed and glimmered with an enchanting color. Where it found this book was a mystery, some say that it was merely found disguised as an ordinary novel, however most believe that a horrid creature had given it the novel to learn the forbidden dark arts.
Nevertheless, the enchanting book became its possession without anyones knowledge, she learned spells, potions, and numerous other forms of magic from it. It was enticed, addicted to it. It's obsession began changing the poor villager, transforming it into a noticeable creature: a witch.

Despite its several attempts to convince the others that it was no evil, even through healing the wounded and fertilizing the crops, none of them accepted the horrid thing it was. The witch was then forced out with torches and tools by the angry Villagers, forced to run into a swamp where for many years she swelled in her own misery with unsure regret, pain and hate. For a long time it was alone.

Yet it never gave up hope, it hoped for the day when its kind would accept it back into the village where it once resided. It was many cycles before she mustered the courage to do this, it grew sick of the stench of the swamp, the damp atmosphere, and most of all: the dullness of place around it.

'Testificate?,' the Witch announced her presence in the Village, 'may I enter?'

Yet there was no question, no mercy, and no joy. The villagers still had their hatred, they still had their disgust. With a shout from their leader, the Iron Golems came with forceful hands and an iron cold grip.

The Villagers piled anything that would burn far south of the village, creating a mound enough to burn the witch alive. They tied the Witch by a post. It could've easily escaped. yet it did not want, it didn't want to be seen as horrible creature, it could no longer bear the hatred, so it stood by the post, screaming as its flesh burnt and melted from the scorching temperature.

The Witch's last words before the pain came were: 'Thank you...'