If you’ve ever wondered what it would look like if a mannequin got possessed by a fire demon during a modelling gig in the Arctic, Witch’s Wrath has your answer. This cover is what happens when a magic spell is cast with only half a design budget and a full bottle of energy drink.
Let’s begin with the model: a redheaded protagonist locked in a battle not with demons, but with the laws of human anatomy. Her arms are extended in a “look at my fireballs” pose, except someone forgot how arms actually work. Her shoulders are rotated back, forearms snapped outward in an unholy attempt to make her look powerful, but instead she’s just out here auditioning for Cirque du Soleil: Inferno Edition. No human — magical or otherwise — can hold that pose unless their skeleton is printed on elastic.
Surrounding her is the requisite explosion of magical flames, swirling particles, and digital embers, which all sound exciting until you realize none of them interact with her body. Despite conjuring fireballs the size of microwaves, she remains untouched by heat or light. Her jacket? Dimly lit. Her face? Matte as a Sunday afternoon. These flames were clearly dropped in post with all the realism of a child’s sticker book. The magic isn’t in the spell — it’s in the cut-and-paste tool.
The glowing orange sprites dotting the background like magical dandruff only add to the confusion. They’re everywhere and nowhere, the result of someone getting overzealous with a brush tool set to “sparks of chaos.” And while the sparks suggest destruction, the model’s face reads more like she’s waiting for someone to fix the Wi-Fi. Wrath? This is the face of someone who mildly regrets an online purchase.
The background attempts some kind of apocalyptic ice-and-fire setting, but it’s buried behind smoke smears and more random glow vomit. And then there’s the misty blue fog at the bottom — a last-ditch effort to hide whatever unfinished mess lies beneath her knees.
Credit where it’s due: the typography is competent and genre-appropriate. But even the best fonts can’t save a cover that looks like it was generated by feeding Midjourney the words “hot witch, random fire, weird elbows.”
In the end, Witch’s Wrath is a masterclass in misalignment — of elements, anatomy, and expectations. It promises heat, fury, and fantasy. It delivers Photoshop’s failed attempt at yoga.