For centuries, the name Argone had been spoken only in whispers. On this day, long after kingdoms had crumbled and forests had swallowed forgotten roads, a strange pulse echoed through the earth. Deep beneath a weathered grave, an ancient tome sealed beside the witch suddenly awakened. Its pages fluttered on their own, glowing with ghostly green light as it called her name across the veil of death. Perched upon the cracked tombstone above, Argone's loyal crow rested quietly, unaware of the power stirring below. Then the ground trembled. Stone split apart. Skeletal fingers emerged from the soil, followed by the witch herself, rising from the grave with cold determination in her eyes. The startled crow let out a frantic caw and launched into the air as Argone drew her first breath in ages. Moonlit mist rolled across the cemetery as the awakened tome floated beside its master, turning pages with a mind of its own. Argone gazed upon a world that had forgotten her, and a wicked smile slowly spread across her face. The crow circled overhead, still shaken by her sudden return, while ominous shadows gathered at her feet. Each step she took sent flickers of dark magic through the grass, causing dead branches to twist and ancient graves to groan. Her resurrection was no accident; the tome had summoned her back for a purpose hidden within its forbidden pages. As thunder rumbled in the distance and black clouds swallowed the stars, Argone left the cemetery behind. The long-slumbering witch had returned, and her day of terror had only just begun.