I stepped into the small cabin, immediately enveloped by a mixture of herbal scents—lavender, sage, rosemary, and others I couldn't name. The space was modest but cozy, with wooden beams crossing a low ceiling and a fire crackling in the stone hearth. Dried herbs hung from the rafters, and shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of powders, liquids, and preserved plants.
"Why are you hiding?" I demanded, turning to face Lyra who had followed me inside. "A child is suffering while you sit here in your comfortable little home."
The witch's amber eyes flashed with something—hurt, perhaps, or indignation. "You think I hide by choice?"
"What else would you call this?" I gestured around the cabin. "While people like Regina suffer, while Helene charges ridiculous sums for healing that doesn't even work."
