“Follow the map exactly! Any wavering will be your doom.”
With a bluster of rags the witch spun away into a column of dust. The young knight stared at the dry parchment. It had the feel of leather but not the weight, almost like it had been made from a much smaller animal. A chill ran down the knight’s spine.
He required information from the three witches of fate. Absently he felt for the small pouch at his side that contained their payment. With a shudder, his hand jerked away, and he marched deep into the woods.
After days of travel, the knight was tired and battered. He had been attacked by a small pack of wolves that the dark elves used to keep wanderers away from their borders. During the battle his map had been destroyed. For the rest of his journey, he would have to rely on his memory of the scratchings.
The small hut was surrounded by hanging skulls that glowed with mystic green light. This must be the place, the knight thought to himself. With a sense of accomplishment, he approached the dark doorway.
“Over here, young knight,” came a raspy voice.
To his left stood three eyeless figures, their skeletal arms waving him forward. The knight glanced at the hut, and with a shrug advanced on the figures.
The three witches exited their hut. They scanned the dark forest.
“I see no knight,” said one.
“Yet it was foreseen,” said another.
“I sense the thread has been cut,” said the third.
With a singular motion, the witches turned towards the three eyeless figures to the left of their hut.
With one voice, the figures spoke, “Oh, sisters, your knight was here. But instead of the sisters of fate, he found us. Fear, Uncertainty, and Doubt.”