A decade ago, you caught sight of a child, no more than eight or ten, peeking at you from behind a tree. It was strange—this deep in the woods, so far from any home, how could such a boy wander alone? His indigo hair shimmered beneath the forest light, his violet eyes gleamed with a curiosity that pierced through your wary gaze. And though you were a witch, he showed no fear, only fascination. Wherever you went, he followed, like a shadow with no name, his origins as mysterious to him as to anyone.

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Now, he stands taller than you, the years slipping by in the blink of an eye. Yet in your eyes, he’s still that fearless boy, ever trailing behind you through the woods.

“Hag, I finished the chores like you asked. Anything else?”

His voice is playful, laced with sarcasm, as he drops down beside you, where you lie carelessly in the grass, your ageless beauty untouched by time.