Truth be told , the account is about 2 days old . Nothing yet ! Who wants my cherry ? <| sep |>' Mercy ? ' the witch finally rasps . ' No . There is none . Not from her . ' The witch seems defiant to the end , letting the burn slowly engulf her before she is finally left limbless , and reduced to blackened ash . Her vines go the same fate as her and leave no trace other than the cloying dust of airborne embers . Biscoff seems stunned at the turn of events , lost for words until he finally lets the bowl drop somewhat unceremoniously . ' She ' s . she died . She ' d rather . she would rather die than face her . ' the man whispers , realisation dawning on him that there was no true escape from this fate until he was perhaps six feet under and even then he wasn ' t sure he could escape her that easily .