The settlement of the Babylon tribe had evolved into a modest cluster of sturdy dwellings. Although weaker than the legendary Gilgamesh, the Three Witches possessed sufficient power to repel monstrous beasts and safeguard their homeland. Humanity now held a middling rung in the ruthless food chain—dangerous enough to deter casual predators, yet unable to challenge the mightiest beasts directly. Even the fiercest creatures paid a steep price for attacking the settlement.
Women tended sprawling fields of grain, while nearby hunters dressed in animal hides carefully carved meat from enormous beasts fallen in battle. Warriors patrolled tirelessly, vigilant day and night. With survival largely secure, the tribe's greatest priority became population growth. Only a large population—with women willingly ingesting Eldritch Eye blood to birth more witches—could guarantee the safety of future generations.
Deep within the lush glades beyond the settlement lay the mystical Amia Pool. A gentle mist drifted over emerald grasses and blossoms, shrouding three breathtakingly beautiful women bathing gracefully in crystalline waters. Their skin was flawless and pale, their forms eternally youthful despite having reached their early thirties—an age when ordinary insect-apes typically perished.
Medeia, the War Witch, reclined languidly, stretching her flawless limbs in the shimmering water. "Melixte," she sighed quietly, recalling an old friend, "she once explored these very lands with us, dreaming of conquering giants. Today, she lies frail and white-haired, surrounded by her children and grandchildren. I suppose that is a life truly fulfilled."
Cassandra, the Spring Witch, gently rippled the water with delicate fingertips. "She lived long enough to witness generations flourish. After all these years, I realize only our sisterhood remains constant. Everything else inevitably fades."
Cersei, the Curse Witch, moved forward elegantly, her dark eyes flashing with seduction. "Yet you two persist in aloof purity, while I embrace life's pleasures without restraint. Don't you envy ordinary women who have loving husbands and cherished children?"
Medeia and Cassandra instinctively drew back, wary eyes narrowed. "Show some respect, Cersei," Medeia warned calmly. "Do not project your darkness onto us."
Cersei laughed softly. "I never kill men outright. They willingly succumb to my charms. You two simply lack the courage to embrace your true strength."
Long ago, Medeia and Cassandra had enacted the Three Witch Laws to prevent corruption:
Before ingesting Eldritch Eye blood, a witch must swear lifelong chastity.
After becoming a witch, all physical intimacy is strictly forbidden; contact with men risks spiritual corruption.
Witches must never misuse their power to harm innocents.
Cersei flagrantly violated these rules. Married before her transformation, she had seduced her husband psychically—only to shatter his mind and unintentionally kill him. Each month since, several men from the tribe mysteriously vanished after falling under her seductive spell. Her uncontrollable psychic abilities made any intimacy lethal.
Yet despite Cersei's cruelty, her unique power was indispensable. Medeia and Cassandra dared not eliminate her, as her strength was vital for tribal defense. As a result, women's status soared dramatically: the Three Witches became simultaneously revered guardians and figures of terror.
Over the following decade, four additional female witches emerged—and astonishingly, one man survived the Eldritch Eye blood ritual, becoming Babylon's sole male witch. At first, Cersei rejoiced, believing she'd finally found a companion equal in strength. Yet after just one week of intense union, even this male witch succumbed to a catastrophic psychic breakdown and perished.
His death extinguished the tribe's final hope of a male protector and sealed Cersei's fearsome reputation. Tribal warriors now lived in dread of her alluring gaze, understanding that any man who drew too close would inevitably share the same fate.
On this day, Babylon's remaining men finally acknowledged a painful truth:
We have become little more than vessels for reproduction.
They had lost the power to build thriving cities, the courage to confront giants, and the security once provided by male guardianship. Their civilization stood precariously on the edge, upheld solely by the ruthless magic of the Three Witches—symbols of absolute power, mystery, and an uncertain destiny.