“Mother will be fine,” the woodcutter said, patting his daughter gently. Gretel wiped the tears from her eyes. She told herself that she should stay strong, at least for her father. The maid ran out of the room, her hands covered in blood and an apparent worry as dark as the storm clouds outside. She whispered something barely audible and her father rushed inside. He came out carrying a child in his arms but tears were streaming from his eyes. Father handed Hansel to him as he tried to tell him what had happened. Gretel understood and accepted it as fate (better than most children her age would have). She felt the warmth that Hansel emanated, the very warmth that kept his unhappiness at bay. It was 4 years ago. Gretel had now grown into a beautiful teenager. Her golden hair that fell like curls around her face and her pair of mesmerizing blue eyes were enough to sweep any man away. She now had a cruel and wicked woman as a stepmother. One night, Gretel woke up to the sound of her parents yelling at each other. She was careful not to wake Hansel and slipped out of the room as silently as a mouse. "We can't just give up...I can't bear to say it!" My blood and my flesh, wandering all alone in the woods. You know the story of my sister and me, her father's hoarse voice replied to an anonymous question. Don't remind me of your cock and bull story. The decline in food reserves shows the opposite. Our neighbors suffered a much worse fate. They killed and fed on their children. We are much better than these monsters! See at least one reason in what I have to say. What will you do when we have no food or money? will disappear,” the witch muttered as she began to eat Gretel’s heart. A new pain erupted in Gretel's body, as if a thousand swords were piercing her body. She cried in pain, knowing she was going to die. The witch looked at the dying Gretel with joy. Green smoke engulfed the witch and Gretel for a few seconds before dissipating into the morning air. The wrinkles in his flesh were gone, replaced by porcelain-white skin. She looked impeccable, the witch thought. She began to laugh cruelly at an unknown joke. She had done it… A feeling of personal accomplishment washed over her. “You see this mother, I got what I wanted. » The witch muttered as she stared at the portrait of the woman in her witch's dress. In the shimmering light, the faded letters read the name “Malaficient »’.