Malvolia stood in front of her mirror, in the cottage by the brook. Sioni was still missing, but she didn’t feel like looking for her today. She looked at her clear face, her bright eyes, and couldn’t help but laugh. Even her voice was youthful again, bubbly-sounding in her ears. The sun was up outside, but dew remained on the grass roof of her little home.

She’d grown accustomed to the woods in her eighteen years of living in exile, living as a witch. She smiled at her reflection, “Helen. My name is Helen.” She repeated it, over and over, reminding herself of her new identity. A sharp rap on the front door drew her away from her own eyes. She walked out of her bedroom, down the hallway with a floor of packed dirt, and looked through her peep hole.

“Malvolia, I know you’re in there!” Eva’s all-too familiar voice came through the door, and one of her eyes glared menacingly through the peephole. Helen opened the door.

“My name, dear Eva, is Helen.” she said with a smile.

“Where is my daughter, witch?”