Under the silver glow of the crescent moon, I imagined a witch not as a figure of fear, but of elegance and mystery. Her dress flows with midnight lace and gold trim, a reminder that even in shadow, beauty thrives. She hovers above the misty forest, suspended between the world of earth and sky, her broom carrying her toward secrets hidden among the stars. This piece is less about potions or spells and more about the quiet power of solitude—the moment when the night whispers, and the witch listens.