In the shadowy depths of Cornwall, where the cliffs loom high and the moors whisper ancient secrets, a solitary witch makes her dwelling. Hidden among the gnarled trees and veiled in perpetual mist, she resides in a crumbling stone cottage, untouched by time. By the light of the moon, she ventures to the crossroads—those fabled meeting points of power and fate. With a pouch of grave dirt in one hand and a bundle of dried herbs in the other, she chants incantations that dance on the wind, summoning energies from realms unseen. The crossroads come alive with her presence, a liminal space where the living and the dead commune under her command. For those who seek her, whispers warn: tread lightly, for her spells are as potent as the land she calls home.