Ally's POV

　　The air in the witch's den is thick with the scent of damp earth and smouldering sage, a sharp contrast to the sterile ambience of Nathan's court. I edge closer to the table where the witch sits hunched over a crystal ball that reflects no light. Her eyes, milky with age, somehow still pierce through me. The next morning had broken and we had made our way to her home once more seeking answers.

　　"Can you tell me about the witch who always stands beside ...