When you were a baby, you were stolen from your crib by a witch. Your father had stolen a vegetable from the witch’s garden, and she stole you in revenge. She locked you away in a tower to keep you hidden from the world. You had powers of healing and a voice that shamed the song bird, and lots of long, beautiful hair.

The woman, who you thought was your mother, cupped your face and kissed your cheeks.

Mother Witch: I’ll be back soon, my little flower.