Dawn came gently, spilling light across the hills and rooftops as though the world itself was exhaling after a long, uneasy night. The shadows receded, carrying their secrets back into the folds of the forest, and the village stirred awake beneath a sky brushed with gold.In time, the tales of what had happened would soften into memory. Some would whisper of the witches in caution, others in reverence, but the fear that once gripped the hearts of the people began to fade. The land, too, seemed lighter-fields greener, waters clearer-as if balance had been restored.At the edge of the wood, the circle of stones remained, silent and steadfast. The earth no longer trembled with unseen power, yet those who passed by felt a quiet strength there, a reminder of the old ways. The coven's work was done, and their presence lingered not as a threat, but as a blessing.Life moved forward. Doors were opened once more, laughter returned to hearth and market, and the clock struck its hours without menace. The witching hour had passed.And though its mysteries would always belong to the night, those who had endured would carry within them a quiet knowing: that courage and love can endure even the darkest hours, and that sometimes, the ending of one story is simply the mending of a world.