Witch's Pore Purific

The ethereal mists of the Moonvale still cling to my memories as I write this, their opalescent tendrils having left an indelible mark upon my consciousness. What a realm of impossible beauty and hidden dangers I have witnessed... a land where the very air shimmers with lunar radiance, and the ground beneath one's feet appears carved from moonstone itself.

The journey to the Weald Witch's domain proved more treacherous than anticipated. The white-leafed forest that conceals her dwelling stretches endlessly, its alabaster canopy filtering the blue firmament's light into ghostly patterns. Starfall rained down in gentle cascades as I navigated the twisted paths, each celestial fragment painting brief silver trails across my vision. The strange beasts of this realm - unknown creatures with voices like distant wind chimes - watched from the shadows but thankfully kept their distance.

I must confess, the stories of the Witch's invisible sanctuary seemed mere folklore until I stood before it. Where others would see only empty forest, my eyes revealed the truth: a dwelling of dark timber and stone, emanating an aura of that made my skin prickle with anticipation.

The door was surely protected, but I had come prepared - a trinket from the Seeker's Satchel - The Hexhewer Brooch. It served its purpose admirably. A simple tap against the threshold's enchantments, and the barriers dissolved like morning frost. I pulled my traveling cloak over my eyes and stepped into the darkness beyond.

The interior was a marvel of alchemical artistry - shelves lined with crystalline vials, bubbling retorts, and specimen jars containing things I dare not name. The air hung heavy with the scent of rare herbs and something else... something that spoke of deep magic and older things.

And there she sat, the Weald Witch herself, regal as any queen upon her throne. Her composure was unnerving - no surprise, no fear, merely that slow, predatory smile that suggested she viewed me as nothing more than an amusing diversion. Her eyes held depths that seemed to promise both knowledge and peril.

But I had come prepared for such eventualities. The mystborne enchantment I had woven into my own sight proved its worth when our gazes finally met. The irony was not lost on me, the hunter becoming the hunted, the predator made prey by her own hubris. Her transformation to obsidian stone was as swift as it was satisfying, though I knew the effect would be temporary.

The Witch's Purificant was exactly as described in the ancient texts: liquid clarity itself, contained within a vessel that seemed to hold captured starlight. I wasted no time in my acquisitions, though I confess a part of me yearned to explore her collection further. Knowledge calls to knowledge, after all.

My retreat was swift but not without disappointment. I had hoped to uncover some secret, some insight into the veils between worlds that would aid my greater understanding. Instead, I departed with only the purificant and the satisfaction of having outwitted a creature of considerable power.

The return journey to Veylins passed without incident, though I could swear I felt her gaze upon my back as I crossed the threshold back into familiar lands. The Weald Witch will remember this encounter, I suspect, and I must be prepared for future machinations.

Still, the mission was a success. The purificant now rests safely in the hands of the Moonvale Boutique's Artisans, its potential applications for skin purification being investigated as I write this. Perhaps on my next venture into the Moonvale, I shall be better prepared to pierce the greater mysteries that realm holds...

Surely there must be something that can help...

Until then, I remain,

-D