Story 1004: Swamp Witch Rising

The swamp whispered her name long before they ever saw her.

Nara Hexley had returned home—not out of want, but out of need. The rot that spread across the world had awakened something ancient beneath the mud of the Wraithwater Marshes, and only the blood of a Hexley could bind it again.

Solomon Wraith, soaked to the bone, trudged through the mire behind her. "You're sure this thing is down here?"

Nara didn’t look back. Her emerald eyes glowed faintly in the dark. “It’s not a thing. It’s my mother.”

Lightning split the sky. In the distance, dead cypress trees groaned under the weight of hanging corpses—some ancient, others fresh. The marsh had become a grave, and its queen was stirring.

As they reached a ring of stones, Nara stopped. “This is where she was bound. They called her the Mire-Mother. Said her voice could bend rivers, her rage could birth plagues.”

“And you think she’s back?” Solomon asked.

“She never left,” Nara replied. “She just needed... a key.”