Note: this is 100% fiction.

From her window perched high in her castle, she watched her villagers get slaughtered in the courtyard below. All through the night, she heard screams from men and women as they died at the hands of the invaders, click-clacks of horse hooves as invaders galloped throughout her castle, and the shouts of invaders as they sought her – the Witch Queen – out from her hiding place.

Even as dawn was approaching, with the bodies of her people piling high below, the invaders were relentless in their pursuant. They wanted her head, one way or another, for all the wrongs she had done them.

All the wrongs she had done them, she was only trying to survive. They were the ones who had done her wrong. All those men, dared to manipulate her, and tried to ruin her.

Thump, thump, thump, she was jerked back to the present by the footsteps below. They are coming. She must act now. Clutching in her hand this whole time had been a small glass vial with exactly three drops of liquid. The last of her magic, enough for one last spell, then she would be at peace. Emptying the vial in her mouth, she would honor her villagers’ loyalty and bravery and make sure the invaders get what they deserve.

Whatdoyousee