The Good Witch's Name
"Don't bring my child into this," Joline’s voice trembled, her words strained and heavy, weighed down by fear and apprehension.
She tried to maintain her composure, but the cracks were evident. It was faint, almost imperceptible, yet Dryzza could see it: a glint of awareness shimmering in Joline’s eyes. It was a look that betrayed an unspeakable fear, an understanding of the terrible fate that might befall her child—little Jess, the innocent girl who lay sleeping peacefully behind her.
As the tension thickened, the shadow of impending danger loomed, casting an ominous pall over the room. Dryzza knew that Joline sensed it too, and for a fleeting moment, both women were united in their mutual knowledge of the lurking threat.
Dryzza sighed softly, her expression grave. “It’s not in my will to involve your child,” she began, her voice measured and deliberate, “but I know you understand that if you don’t act now, your daughter’s life will be placed in grave danger.”