The Witch Crashed Into My House
The moment I opened the front door, a blood-soaked woman collapsed into my arms.
Her silver hair, matted with crimson, clung to her pale cheeks. Even unconscious, her grip on my sleeve was iron-tight, as if she feared I might vanish the second she let go.
What the hell is this?
I live deep in the forest, raising sheep and goats far from any village. The only visitors I ever get are the occasional lost traveler or the tax collector who somehow always finds me. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect a half-dead beauty to come crashing through my door like this.
She was stunning. Even covered in blood and dirt, her face looked like it had been sculpted by the gods themselves. Long lashes, full lips, and a body that—wait, Allen, focus. She's bleeding out on your floor.
I carried her inside, laid her on the bed, and began treating her wounds. The gashes were deep, clearly from some kind of monster claw. As I cleaned and bandaged her, I couldn't help but notice the strange tattoo on her collarbone. It looked like a broken wing.
Hours later, when her eyes finally fluttered open, the first thing she did was grab my wrist with surprising strength.
"Don't... leave me..." she whispered, voice hoarse.
"I'm not going anywhere," I said, trying to sound calm. "You're safe now. What's your name?"
Her crimson eyes locked onto mine, intense and unblinking. A faint smile touched her lips, though it looked more like a predator spotting prey than any expression of relief.
"Serina," she murmured. "And you... you're mine now, Allen."
Wait. How does she know my name?
I froze. I'd never seen this woman before in my life. Yet she said my name like she'd been waiting years to speak it. A chill ran down my spine.
That was the beginning of my nightmare—or perhaps my salvation. I still can't decide which.
She refused to leave. Not that I could have forced her out even if I'd tried. Within days, the witch had completely taken over my quiet forest home. My sheep started following her around like she was their new goddess. The goats, usually stubborn as hell, became strangely docile in her presence.
"Allen," she'd call from the kitchen, voice sweet as honey. "Come taste this. I made it for you."
Every meal was perfect. Every glance she gave me felt heavy with meaning. And every night, she'd crawl into my bed without asking, curling against me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Serina," I'd sigh, exhausted. "This is my bed."
"Our bed," she'd correct, nuzzling closer. "Everything here is ours now. Including you."
I'm going to die. This beautiful, terrifying woman is going to be the death of me.
She never explained where she'd come from or why she was wounded. But sometimes, when she thought I wasn't looking, I'd catch her staring at the horizon with eyes full of ancient sorrow. Like she was remembering a war I'd never seen.
Then one day, the sky tore open.
A massive Gate appeared above the forest, swirling with ominous purple energy. Monsters began pouring out—twisted creatures I'd only heard about in old stories. The world was changing, and my peaceful life of raising livestock was over.
Serina stood beside me as we watched the chaos unfold, her hand slipping into mine.
"It's starting again," she whispered, almost to herself. Then she turned to me with that same intense, obsessive smile. "But this time, I won't lose you, my hero."
Hero? Me?
I wanted to laugh. I was just a guy who talked to goats and wanted a quiet life. But the way she looked at me—like I'd once been something far greater—made my chest tighten with unwelcome memories I couldn't quite grasp.
As the first wave of monsters charged toward us, Serina raised her hand. Dark magic swirled around her fingers, beautiful and deadly.
"Stay behind me, Allen," she said, voice soft but commanding. "I'll protect what's mine."
And just like that, the witch who had invaded my home became my shield, my curse, and—whether I liked it or not—my destiny.
Gods help me. The witch is obsessed with me.