Devilbesideyou666

They say she’s a monster. A myth. A demon wrapped in human skin.
They call her the Witch in the Woods.
They should have called her a warning.

Hazel-Anne Davis was raised in the Devil's Playground for the end of the world—part human, part demon, full survivalist, and absolutely done with it all. When she wakes up in the dying body of a child in a foreign world, she doesn’t cry or panic. She builds. She kills. She survives. The mountains become her home, and she becomes the nightmare whispered about in drunken taverns and frightened war councils.

No army ever returns. No trespasser lives.
Until she met them.

Dragged from her mountain, drugged and bound in a trunk like some barbaric trophy, Hazel-Anne is forced into the glittering prison of the royal court—a place where daggers hide behind fans, poison is poured in porcelain cups, and obedience is expected from women who should know their place. Hazel does not know her place. And if she does, she refuses to stay in it.

Five powerful men—each dangerous in their own right—are about to learn that the “witch” they stole is no savage.
She’s smarter than they are. Deadlier than their worst enemies. And she’s done playing by anyone else’s rules.

Now all of them—the scarred warrior prince, the genius Crown Prince, the demon-eyed general, the assassin in the shadows, and the merchant wrapped in silk and lies—will have to decide:

Will they try to control her?
Or will they kneel before the storm they’ve unleashed?

Either way, at the end of the day, the Witch will have her revenge.

The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis

Zhou Village had seen soldiers before—shouting men with rusted swords and cracked armor, too hungry to be dangerous for long. Hell, they've even seen the Yelan army pouring through the mountains like a landslide. Those who survived the Yelan did so only because the army couldn't be bothered with the villagers unless it was to relieve boredom or stress.

But the men who rode in this time were not like either group.

Their armor was such a dark maroon color that, if it hadn't been polished to a mirror's gleam, one would think that they were still covered in blood from their latest conquest. Their formation was silent.

Not a single horse stepped out of line.

Intruders