Chapter 1

Bianca was exhausted.

She stumbled through the tall grass, clutching her basket of freshly picked mushrooms in one hand and her skirt in the other, as she hastily made her way back to the familiar grounds of her cottage vicinity. It had been a long day of work for the young brunette beauty. She had set out early in the morning to the perimeter of her land in order to reinforce the magical shield that protected her peaceful home from the dark monsters that threatened her and the humans who lived within the kingdom. Along the way, she harvested the magical flora that grew in the forest for her potions and general sustenance. Her cheeks were flushed from her elevated heart rate, and her sparkling hazel eyes gazed at the path in front of her.

I hold the kingdom's life in my hands... Bianca thought to herself, and she chuckled as she continued on her stroll back home. And it was a fair assessment. King Lyran II of Arborynthia was a good and honest king who, in a desperate plea to save his people from evil monsters sent from distant attackers, begged the Mages of the neighboring territories to protect his people in exchange for a regular sum of gold and protection from bounty hunters.

It was far from a bad gig.

The sun was setting and the animals of the forest were quietly returning to their dens and nests. Bianca dropped her basket down from her slender arm to the side of her, and she fell down backwards into the soft grass. She groaned as her shoulders untensed and her muscles relaxed. A gentle breeze flew by, dancing through her long, silky brown hair and around her frame. Her delicate round nose cast a shadow on the side of her face. Lying down, she untied the knot holding her cloak around her neck.

What a perfect peaceful evening... just what I deserve, she thought to herself. She rested her hand on her forehead, shielding her eyes from the rich golden hue of the sun shining down on her body, rejuvenating her from the sky.

Her skin felt warm, and the ache in her body had taken a new form. Gently tracing her skin from her face, Bianca's hand stroked her neck, traced her chest, then down to the mound between her legs.

Spirits above... I wish someone were here to touch me like this... she thought to herself. She hastily sat up to unbutton her dress and pulled it off over her head, leaving her body clothed in nothing but her thin white slip. She rolled over and resumed her self-soothing, feeling herself as if she was inside the mind of a lover. Her eyes were closed in rapture as she squeezed her voluptuous breasts through the thin fabric, her legs rubbing against each other in the grass, accidentally causing her to kick her basket over. She pinched her nipples, sending waves of pleasure and moisture to her cunt. Her long brown tresses messily framed her face like a mermaid's; she looked like an ethereal painting.

Lost in her self-provided foreplay, she whimpered and writhed in pleasure amidst the magic of the evening scenery, unwittingly not alone...

Chapter 2

Galen was pissed. And very badly wounded.

He gripped his heavy knapsack which was oozing with thick black liquid and winced through the pain coursing through his bleeding arm. His face and auburn tresses were covered in grime, and his chest was covered in blood. His broad shoulders carried the dead weight of the mysterious sack slung around to his back. Galen was a strong rugged young man, a bit rough around the edges but otherwise very handsome, and in just the right setting with the right gestures, he could even be mistaken for a chivalrous knight.

He had been set up by his commanding leader of his guild of bounty hunters. For months, he was on the search for a monster that had been reported to destroy the northern towns and leave its villagers in bloody remains. Half a year prior during the end of frost, he was instructed to track this unnamed thing and bring back its horned head to present it on a bended knee as a punishment for speaking out in defiance against a new decree within his legion.

He recalled the scene. His leader Ragan had finished announcing to the pack in a solemn yet unflinching tone that any Mage they encountered should be killed on sight for the potential of finding a matching bounty. He was outraged that such a barbaric rule would be allowed to sully the name of his brotherhood. He had heard talk of other monster hunters joining the Mage-hunting bandwagon, after word had spread that the harsh rulers of the Northern kingdoms wanted every Mage in their continent eradicated. Galen wasn't interested in killing peaceful witches and wizards. Sure, they were kooky and insufferable, but they didn't cause any trouble. Well, if you count an attempted assassination of a Northern tyrant as "no trouble."

Four Springs ago, a rebel pack of Mages felt they had had enough of King Riohr's corrupt and evil laws. This group was shunned by their own group of wizard leaders, due to the threat of retaliation from the incredibly violent and merciless Northern king. It didn't stop the rebels.

On a dark clouded night, a ragtag troop of young witches and wizards infiltrated the icy stone walls of the Northern Fortress and silently killed their way through the opulent main hall of King Riohr's Tower. There, they were slain in a heap by guards who hid and waited after being given intel by an anonymous wizard who had an inexplicable reason to betray his kind. From then on, Riohr wanted every single person who could barely make a single drop of water float in the air killed. Anybody caught bending elements or casting spells throughout the kingdom were dragged by their necks or their wrists to be publicly executed by traveling Royal soldiers.

Magic was completely outlawed. And Mages were hunted in desperation for coin.

Times were tough. You couldn't enter any small village in the outskirts without hearing a mother wailing over her starving child. Everybody was desperate, and bounty hunters were no different. Galen did what he could to sustain himself, hunting beasts and native monsters for their parts, but it was barely enough to afford bread and milk, let alone toss a coin to some beggar he would too often pass by.

This is fucking boarshit... This thing was barely a living creature...

It was quite a rare thing for Galen to encounter a monster he couldn't kill. He was not invincible by any means, but he was certainly not inexperienced. That is, as long as dark magic was not bolstering the animal he was hunting. This was the unfortunate fate awaiting Galen. Something Galen was not trained nor expected to successfully slay; Ragan knew this full well. Galen realized he was intentionally sent into the jaws of this monster in the far outskirts of the northern border of Arborynthia to die.

But this hero did not die. Instead, he disembodied the terrifying corrupted creature but was very critically ripped up in the process. In his knapsack was the head of this disgusting creature of Black Magic.

And so, Galen started on his way back home with a renewed vigor fueled by rage.

I have no idea where I am or how long I have left to live... Better get started on my way... He decided to follow the setting sun towards the mountains in the Western corner of Arborynthia's forest border where many nationless travelers often stopped to receive aid. The woods were harsh and piercingly cold.

Two hours passed, and Galen was exhausted. He didn't know how much longer he would survive. I just have to survive the night... he thought to himself.

The sky had now reached a dull orange through the trees as the sun was mostly receded into the mountains. I'd better set up camp.

He wandered through the trees and the brush some more, and remarked at the subtle transition of the scenery around him change from a dangerous harsh forest to a calm peaceful woodland scene. The moss under his feet was incredibly soft, the trees were less dense, and the breeze felt peaceful. Even the sound of birds' screeches had changed to melodious tweets. This must be a protected land... This isn't some untouched sanctuary...

A witch is protecting this boundary. I must be in her territory.

He paused in caution. He needed to be careful. Life as a bounty hunter isn't kind, especially when there were all sorts of lunatics trying to rob you of your clothes and coin. Everybody wants to be your enemy, and right now, he was an easy wounded target. Witches would not take kindly to a bounty hunter who she might mistake for trying to capture her.

Still, nothing seemed to be an apparent danger.

He slowly walked across the moss and the trees became less dense. In the distance, he found a clearing where a wild meadow presented itself to him. This is a good place to stay for the night.

He decided to explore the vicinity to ensure it was indeed safe from prying eyes. He approached the grasses and walked along the border with the forest. The sounds of the forest quickly faded as soon as he exited the canopy.

He heard a noise.

Was that a whimper?

Galen clutched the dagger at his side and slowly approached where the sound was coming from, careful not to make a noise. He hid behind the trees at the forest edge and steadied his breath.

Trying to get closer, Galen heard the sound become clearer. It was the voice of a woman. He crept forward to see if it was a wounded damsel in distress. He heard her whimper again as he kept inching towards its source. Then he saw her.

His heart stopped at the sight in front of him.

There hidden by tall flowers surrounding her body, was a breathtaking woman in the flattened grass. Her smooth skin shone in the dying light and she was barely clothed.

And she was touching herself.

FUCK. A FOREST WITCH... A FOREST WITCH WHO COULD KILL ME IF SHE SEES ME.

Galen froze in his tracks, and he knew he had to retreat. Still, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the pure seduction in front of him. This witch was beautiful. Nothing like the eccentric elderly witches and wizards from the Borderlands.

The woman's hair was strewn about, her eyes were furrowed in agonizing bliss, her heaving breasts threatened to slip out from under her oh-so-thin white undergarment. Soft freckles dotted her face like constellations in an endlessly clear sky. Her delicate wrist rested on her forehead as her other hand was lost between her legs. Her back was arched like a graceful dancer, her left knee bent in a hedonist pose.

God above... This can't be real...

"Ohh..." She cried out in pleasure as she steadily approached her climax. Galen watched, transfixed. Her voice sounded like the most addictive sweet melody in his ears. Unknowingly, his sack was slowly falling off his shoulder.

The woman's hand started moving faster, her panting became louder.

Galen was hypnotized, his eyes glazing over and his cock hardening. The seconds felt like hours in the deepest meditation he had ever experienced.

His sack fell to the ground. He snapped back to reality.

The woman's eyes opened suddenly in a panic.

Galen quickly stepped back, stumbling over his bounty's head. He shouted and tripped, barely catching himself with his bleeding arms. He frantically reached for his sack, grabbed it and tried to scurry back up.

THUD. He felt a foot kick him right on the claw wound that ripped across his chest.

"OH FUCKING WHY?" he yelled in pain, but knew he probably deserved it. He doubled over, grasping at his bloodied bandage across his chest keeping his flesh together. Breathing deeply, he slowly turned his gaze upward.

It was that woman-- that witch-- looking down at him through narrowed eyes with her arms crossed and her posture stiff. If looks could kill, Galen had already descended through the deepest layers of Hell from his grave. So she has hazel eyes... he remarked to himself, getting a bit distracted from the critical situation at hand.

I'm so fucked...