In the dimly lit lair, after Hannah had left, the witches stood around the fading embers of their fire, their faces etched with concern. The air, thick with the scent of burning herbs and lingering magic, felt unusually heavy, as if it too sensed the weight of the conversation they were about to have. The tall witch, Mira, paced back and forth, her sharp eyes flickering with thoughts that were too deep to easily surface. She had always been the most measured of the three, but even now, her composure seemed shaken.
"We can't let this go on," she said finally, her voice soft but laced with urgency. "Hannah's plans... they’re spiraling out of control. Forcing a mating bond through magic? Manipulating emotions and bonds that run as deep as the soul... this will have consequences far beyond wh
