Cornelius slammed open the door with a kick and raised his crossbow. The putrid, little room was dark.

Only a lone candle shed a little light around.Bones and weird charms dangled from the rooftop, clicking against each other. The scent of chemicals and incenses was nauseating.

An old woman was sitting in the middle of the room, behind a small table. She was slowly shuffling a deck of weirdly coloured cards. Her face was hidden under a tattered hood, but Cornelius knew she was his prey. The crone spoke, with a vulture-like voice: “I foretold your arrival my dear boy” she said.

“Then you should have run” answered Cornelius as he took a few careful steps forwards, scanning the room for more threats. “You think you have any chance of surviving this night young boy? Your fate was sealed as you crossed that door...The cards never lie...”  The old woman set three rat-bitten cards on the table, face down. She kept on speaking as she turned the firs card: the Sun. “... You came to the City, looking for fortune, and you did find it: your chance for glory and wealth”.

The second card was revealed: The Hierophant.  “Now you need to prove yourself to someone important, the inquisitor, maybe, and you are so close to success... But your future, my dear boy...I see...” The old hag slid the third card forward, inviting the man to turn it. Cornelius narrowed his eyes: was she trying to pull some trick on him? The old woman looked weak and harmless, but he knew she was dangerous. The man hesitated for a second, inhaling the thick fumes of the witch’s lair. He took a step forward and snatched the card like a suspicious animal, finally looking at it. The picture was that of a skeleton with a long scythe, dancing under a starless night. “I see... Death” concluded the hag. 

Cornelius shivered for a second, then found his composure and forced himself to laugh: “The death you see it’s not mine, witch! I will take you to the inquisitor and you will burn like your sisters did!”. He raised his crossbow, but his arms felt as heavy as lead, his head was spinning. “What...What’s happening to me?” He stuttered as he fell to one knee. “It’s the incense. You have been breathing poison since you stepped in here. I built tolerance to it through the years, but you...You are doomed, my dear boy!” The old woman burst in a chill inducing laughter.  “Cursed witch! You’ll die with me!” Cornelius concentrated his energies in a final effort: he stood up and aimed his crossbow, but he was slowed by the poison and the hag acted first. She pulled one of the charms from the ceiling and crushed it in her hands.

The spell affected Cornelius immediately and he went blind: his eyes betrayed him just before the shot got loose. He felt the familiar vibration in his crossbow as the string launched the dart toward, but he didn’t hear any grunt, or scream of pain. Instead, the last thing he heard was the maniacal laughter of the witch..