Erik’s POV

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. My throat bobbed a few times before I finally asked, “Are you Baba Yaga?”

The woman huffed an amused snort, threading needles together to weave a complicated stitch. “No. So many witches live in huts on chicken legs.” Milky eyes pinned me down and I could barely move a muscle. She looked blind, but by the way her eyes focused on me, she could see far more than my appearance.

I could feel her power ...