The Witch of Irazú Volcano

The Ascent

The morning air was crisp as Isabella and her colleague, Diego Morales, stood at the base of Irazú Volcano. The towering peak loomed above them, partially shrouded in mist. They had arrived before dawn, hoping to catch the sunrise from the summit, but as they began their hike, the light remained stubbornly hidden behind thick clouds.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Diego asked, adjusting his camera strap. His voice was laced with unease.

Isabella rolled her eyes. "You’re the one who begged to come along, remember?"

"Yeah, for the adventure—not because I actually believe in witches."

She smirked, pushing forward along the rocky path. "That’s the problem, Diego. People dismiss legends without looking for the truth."

They continued their ascent, the silence of the mountain pressing in around them. The higher they climbed, the more the air carried an eerie stillness, as if the very land was holding its breath.

Then, just as they rounded a bend in the trail, a figure emerged from the mist.

A woman, draped in black, stood at the edge of the path. Her face was obscured by a deep hood, her presence unnervingly still.

Diego stiffened. "Uh... Isa?"

Isabella’s heart pounded, but she forced herself to stay calm. "Excuse me," she called, stepping closer. "Do you live up here?"

The woman lifted a hand and pointed toward the summit. Her voice, low and raspy, carried through the fog.

*"Turn back. She does not welcome you."*

Before Isabella could respond, the woman melted into the mist, vanishing as suddenly as she had appeared.

Diego exhaled sharply. "That’s it. That’s our sign to get the hell out of here."

But Isabella’s curiosity was burning now, her historian’s instinct screaming that they were onto something. "Or it means we’re getting close to the truth."

Ignoring Diego’s protests, she pressed on.

Secrets in the Ash

By the time they reached the crater’s rim, the mist had thinned, revealing a breathtaking—yet haunting—landscape. The volcanic bowl stretched out before them, its blackened earth streaked with sulfuric yellow and deep red veins of rock. The wind howled through the crater, carrying whispers that sounded almost human.

Diego knelt beside a jagged rock formation, inspecting it through his camera lens. "Hey, check this out."

Isabella crouched next to him. The rock was carved with symbols—intricate patterns that seemed far too deliberate to be natural. Some resembled ancient petroglyphs, but others were entirely unfamiliar.

"This is incredible," Isabella whispered, tracing her fingers over the grooves. "These markings aren’t just random. They tell a story."

Then, from deep within the crater, a faint glow caught her eye.

"Do you see that?" she asked.

Diego followed her gaze. "That’s not normal, right?"

Isabella’s pulse quickened. Without another word, she began making her way down the steep slope, toward the glow.

"Isa—wait!" Diego called, but she ignored him.

As she neared the source, she realized what it was—an altar, half-buried in volcanic ash. The stone was weathered but unmistakably carved by human hands. Symbols like those on the rock formation pulsed faintly along its surface.

"This… this is ancient," Isabella murmured. "Pre-Columbian, maybe older."

Diego knelt beside her. "This feels like the part where we turn back before the horror movie starts."

But Isabella wasn’t listening. Her fingers brushed against the altar’s surface, and the moment she made contact, a deep tremor rumbled beneath them.

Then, from the shadows, something moved.

The Witch Awakens

The wind howled through the crater, carrying with it the scent of sulfur and something older, something unnatural.

Isabella turned, and her breath caught in her throat.

A figure was emerging from the darkness, wrapped in swirling shadows. Her form was human—almost—but her eyes burned like embers, and her voice was both a whisper and a roar.

"You have disturbed my sanctuary."

Diego scrambled backward. "Nope. Nope. I’m done."

But Isabella stood her ground. "Who are you?"

The woman stepped closer, and as she did, the shadows peeled away, revealing a face both beautiful and terrifying.

"I was once Ximena," she said. "The guardian of this mountain. The last of my kind."

Isabella’s heart pounded. "The Witch of Irazú…"

Ximena’s expression darkened. "That is what they call me now. But once, I was a protector." Her gaze flicked to the altar. "Until they betrayed me. Until they cast me into the fire."

The ground trembled again, the volcano itself seeming to groan beneath their feet.

"You seek knowledge," Ximena said, her voice now dangerously soft. "But knowledge comes at a price."

The air crackled with energy, and suddenly, Isabella knew.

Ximena wasn’t a mere spirit. She was bound to this place, her very essence fused with the volcano’s power.

And now, Isabella was part of the legend.

The Final Choice

The volcano rumbled, molten cracks forming beneath the altar.

Diego grabbed Isabella’s arm. "We need to run—now!"

But Ximena lifted a hand, and the ground beneath them held firm.

"You have two choices," she said. "Leave now and never return, or stay and learn the truth of this mountain."

Isabella hesitated. She had spent years searching for something like this. Could she really walk away now?

"Isabella, no," Diego pleaded. "You don’t owe this place anything!"

But her mind was made up.

She turned to Ximena. "What must I do?"

Ximena smiled. "Sacrifice."

Before Diego could stop her, Isabella stepped forward and placed her hand on the altar.

Heat surged through her veins, fire and ash swirling around her. Her body burned, reshaped, transformed.

The last thing she heard was Diego screaming her name.

Then—darkness.

Epilogue: The New Legend

When the ash cleared, Diego was alone.

The altar was silent. The volcano was still.

And Isabella was gone.

But as he turned to leave, a whisper carried through the wind.

*"The legend never dies, Diego."*

He spun around, his breath catching.

There, standing where Isabella had been, was a new figure—her eyes glowing, her body wrapped in shadows.

She was no longer Isabella Fernández.

She was the new Witch of Irazú.

And the mountain had chosen her.