The Doll's House Chapter 1.

Chapter One:

The Cottage and the Doll’s House.

The Witch’s Cottage.

In the Dark Forest, just a little way off the forest road, stood a cottage. It had always been there, rebuilt and reborn exactly as it had been since the first witch laid its stones hundreds of years ago. No matter how many times it was destroyed, by kings, by storms, even by the witches themselves, it returned. The spell that bound it was older than most kingdoms and stronger than time.

The first Witch of the Dark Forest had cast that spell. It kept the cottage standing, but it came with rules. The witch, always a she, had to live there. Many tried to stay away, choosing caves or towers or even the company of wolves, but something always drew them back. The cottage waited. And it remembered.

The spell also required every witch to keep a diary. Every potion, every spell, every mistake had to be written down. When a witch died, her diary appeared by magic on the bookcase in the cottage. Some were slim and rushed; others were thick as bricks. Only the Witch of the Dark Forest could read them. And only she could learn from them.

The diaries were more than records. They were lifelines. They held recipes for healing, warnings about dangerous enchantments, and, most importantly, the endings to spells. Because in this world, magic came in two kinds: minor and major.

Minor magic was the work of hedge witches, or charmers as they liked to be called. It mended broken bones, eased pain, and removed warts. Useful, kind, and mostly harmless.

Major magic was different. It could put a castle to sleep for a hundred years and a day. It could turn a prince into a beast. It could change the shape of a kingdom. But it had rules.

Every major spell had to have a way to be undone. The magic itself chose that, never the witch. A beast might need to earn love. A sleeping princess might need a prince’s kiss. And if a spell was broken the wrong way, the witch who cast it suffered terrible pain.

There was one rule above all: magic could not be used to kill. If a witch tried, the spell rebounded and struck her instead. There were loopholes, of course. A witch could turn someone inside out, and if they died from that, well, it wasn’t technically the magic that killed them.

Most witches who held the title were feared. They were cruel, clever, and often short‑lived. Kings tried to destroy the cottage and the witches who lived there, but they never succeeded.

Then came Calizone.

She realised that wicked witches didn’t last long. So, she chose a different path. She was careful, courteous, and eventually became friendly with the royal family. When it came time to find her successor, the king sent his own son and nephew  to escort her. Together, they found Sophrayni.

Sophrayni came to live with Calizone and learn the ways of magic. When Calizone died, Sophrayni became the Witch of the Dark Forest.

After many adventures, she returned to the cottage and continued reading the diaries. There were dozens. One in particular caught her attention: the diary of Magalan.

Magalan had been the Witch of the Dark Forest a century before Calizone. She had been trapped in a mirror by one of the king’s ancestors, but when the spell ended, she escaped, and vowed revenge.

She raised an army of outlaws and wraiths. She forced townsfolk to march to the royal palace. She captured the king’s brother and his wife, sealing them behind a thousand‑year spell in the Valley of Wraiths.

Calizone worked tirelessly to undo Magalan’s magic. She freed the prisoners. The wraiths stayed in their valley, content to be left alone.

But in Magalan’s diary, Sophrayni found one entry that made her pause.

It spoke of a spell. A spell involving a doll’s house.

Sophrayni closed her eyes. The spell was still active. Somewhere, a house held more than wood and glue.