The word "sister" that had slipped from the young girl's lips seemed natural to her yet utterly unnatural to all who heard it. The room stilled, breath caught in throats, eyes darting between the two women as if trying to spot some illusion, some trick of the light that would make sense of the impossible.
The eldest, who was clearly the witch invited by Princes Syla and Simon, was known by a handful of people in there, so they had a respectful attitude towards her, but the little child? None had ever laid eyes on her before.
The elder witch, ancient beyond reckoning, barely reacted. Her weathered face remained impassive, lined with more years than anyone dared guess. It was said she had witnessed kingdoms rise and crumble, had known the world before the rivers had carved their paths, and the mountains had settled into their roots. And yet, standing before her, the younger girl bore the bloom of youth … skin smooth, eyes bright, untouched by time's cruel hand.
