Long ago word was brought to me of the witch’s existence, of her presence so near in the World Above. I’d received the word, acknowledged it. Then done everything in my power to forget. I’d sworn I’d never come to this place. I’d sworn I’d never see her, never speak to her. This? This is far worse. To embrace her. As though nothing had ever happened between us. “Please, Vor,” the witch says, her eyes still closed. “Just one little kiss. For your old mother.”
