Wynter started at that, eyes flicking up to study the woman who she considered a mother more than she would admit. She exhaled through her nose tiredly, weariness settling into her bones. The whole situation was fucked. Too many innocent people were dying in both kingdoms.
She shuffled slightly at the mention of contacting the dead. Death magick was something she always felt wary of. A part of her simply wanted to return home and hold her son in her arms. Wanted to tell Zephrim about their baby boy who looked so much like him that it hurt her. But it was a secret she had to keep for now. He couldn't know, not while that man was still after her. "The dead shouldn't talk." Wynter muttered under her breath, a puff of smoke passing through her lips as she huffed.