Agnes
I clutched the leather book to my chest as Elijah and I walked up to the witch’s house. The memories of my last visit weren’t exactly fond, not that I could remember much anyway. But we needed the pages of this book that hadn’t been translated yet to be translated, and if anyone could do it, it would likely be her.
We stepped inside, and the place was exactly as I remembered. The witch was sitting cross-legged on a meditation cushion in the main part of her little shop, her eyes closed and her hands resting palms-up on her knees.
Elijah and I hesitated, not sure if we should interrupt her or not.
“Back so soon?” she asked without opening her eyes. “And with gifts, I see.”
Elijah and I exchanged glances, but he cleared his throat. “We need your help. Again.”
Sh
