"Picture a desolate, fog-shrouded forest under a menacing blood-red full moon, casting an eerie glow over the twisted, ancient trees. Their bark is rough and peeling, their gnarled branches reaching out like bony fingers, while dense mist clings to the ground. In the heart of the forest, a circle of witches in tattered, blackened robes stands silently around a massive, ancient cauldron. Their faces are gaunt and pale, hollow eyes gleaming with an unnatural, red glow from beneath their shadowy hoods. Long, bony fingers stir the bubbling, dark green liquid in the cauldron, which hisses and smokes, casting an eerie, flickering light across the scene. The ground beneath them is carved with ritualistic symbols, glowing faintly as if infused with dark magic. Scattered skulls, cracked open with remnants of candle wax, surround the ritual site. Vines with thorny tendrils snake through the earth, choking the life out of nearby vegetation. Hanging from branches, ragged dolls and talismans made of bones and feathers sway gently in the wind. A distant screech pierces the night, as flocks of bats dart across the crimson sky, adding to the atmosphere of foreboding. Behind the witches, a faint figure drifts through the air, hovering on a crooked broomstick. Its skeletal hand clutches the handle as it watches the ritual unfold below, while cold winds blow, carrying whispers that send chills down your spine. The whole scene pulsates with a sense of malevolent, ancient magic, as if the forest itself is alive with dark forces. The silence is heavy, broken only by the bubbling of the cauldron and the occasional crack of branches underfoot