The. | Witch

We’ve been taught to fear her. The pointy hat. The warts. The hiss of “double, double.” But what if the real magic was never in the hex?

doesn’t need your permission to be powerful. She already took it back—stitch by stitch, herb by herb, boundary by boundary. She is the woman who walks the woods alone at dusk and isn’t lost. She is the neighbor who leaves bread on her sill for the crows. She is you, the last time you trusted a gut feeling no one else could explain. The. Witch

She doesn’t announce herself with a cackle. We’ve been taught to fear her