"Alina, no!" Marcus screamed, his voice breaking as he watched her slowly turn to follow the witch's beckoning voice. The witch's spell had taken hold—Alina's eyes were pitch black, devoid of any recognition or emotion.
"Andel, do something!" Marcus cried out, his voice edged with panic. But Andel's fireballs were proving ineffective. The witch dodged them effortlessly, her movements fluid and unnerving. "She's spelled! She's not herself anymore!"
As Alina continued her slow, trance-like walk toward the witch, Marcus's heart pounded with helplessness. He could feel her slipping away, his mind racing for a way to break through the dark magic. "Alina!" he screamed again, louder this time, pouring every ounce of his love and desperation into the call. "It's me, Marcus! Please, remember me!"