66 Mysteriously Identical

On one side of Arcelia, a grand party was in full swing, boasting the presence of nearly all the nobility. However, on the opposite side, the night cast a gloomy ambiance, even as the moon bathed the forest in its gentle glow.

Perhaps it was due to the tall and lanky forest trees, or because of the leafless branches on some of the trees, or the sounds of the forest—the distant hoot of an owl, the rustling of leaves in the breeze, and the occasional call of a nocturnal creature. Or maybe it was all of these combined.

Either way, none of these things bothered the figure who sat leisurely on a tree branch, blending seamlessly with the darkness, munching on a red apple as she watched the figures below her whisper to each other, preparing to k*ll another innocent maiden.

The mysterious figure, unbeknownst to the witches, smiled as she bit into the apple, her pale fingers with long dark nails holding it in place.