Everything went quiet in Manon’s head. “Go on.” Elide’s face was white as death, making her freckles look like dried, splattered blood. “From what I saw, they’ve delivered at least one baby each. And are already about to give birth to another.” “That’s impossible,” Sorrel said. “The witchlings?” Asterin breathed. Elide really did vomit again this time. When she was done, Manon mastered herself enough to say, “Tell me about the witchlings.” “They are not witchlings. They are not babies,” Elide spat, covering her face with her hands as if to rip out her eyes. “They are creatures. They are
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