You know what you get when you mix a thunder storm with cool moist air at 40,000 feet? It’s simple science.
Witches live among us in secret. Their magic passed down from an ancient race. Diluted, half forgotten. But dangerously powerful. After centuries of conflict, a truce was forged. Witches would be allow to live and govern themselves if they follow 1 strict rule. That magic, never be used against humans. But the truce is a fragile thing.
You cling to your pathetic life. And for what reason? Those closest to you betray you. And those you claim to protect don’t even know your name.
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That’s what you don’t understand. What your kind never understand. I’ve shown mercy. I could have killed every last one of you. I’ve done the math. I’ve had the time.