Constance leaned across the surface of her cauldron, her face twisted into a scowl. The other witches gathered around her, their cowls shadowing their faces as they watched the surface of her bubbling pot while their leader conjured images within it.
"This is what your haste and lack of care for our Island has brought on us."
"Oh goddess, Constance. Calm down and stop freaking out already. It's not that bad." Paper ran her fingers over the edge, dark eyes locked on the now glassy surface of the liquid in the cauldron. No one tried to agree with her, as images flickered across the smooth surface.
"Not that bad?" Constance's voice ratcheted up a few levels as she went on. "Tell me I'm not the only one who's been forced to clean up stray magic since her little temper tantrum?"
Even Piper
