Noah had imagined many things when it came to witches: bottled creatures, strange potions, and shrieking spells. But as he stepped into the white witch's domain, what he saw caught him entirely off guard.
"This isn't what I imagined," he murmured.
"What did you imagine?" asked the witch, her form subtly shifting into that of a curvy, middle-aged woman, complete with an old-fashioned cigarette holder. She exhaled a curl of smoke and watched him with amusement. "Did you envision a horrible place filled with crude, inhumane experiments?"
"Sort of," Noah admitted, clutching his bag tightly. "Cassidy's journal said witches aren't to be taken lightly."
The witch chuckled. "Cassidy wasn't wrong. There are witches far and wide across different worlds, each with their own madness."
They walked through what seemed like a corridor, but with each step, the space transformed. Bookshelves rose from the ground, stretching infinitely upward. A vast open sky, dotted with floating libraries, blinked into existence. Grass swayed beneath Noah's feet. It was surreal.
Before long, a table and chairs appeared. The Dodo unceremoniously tossed Lumi onto a sofa and then walked off. The witch took a seat and gestured for Noah to do the same.
"Something to drink?" she asked, sipping her tea.
"Uh... orange juice. No, coffee," he corrected himself, feeling embarrassed.
A cup appeared in front of him. He added milk and sugar while the witch leaned in, her voice calm.
"How did you get Cassidy's journal?"
Noah explained everything: the church, the mirror, and the events that had led him here. The witch listened silently.
"Your name, boy?" she asked.
"Noah... but not my full name. You know why."
She nodded solemnly. "Noah, it seems this world— or something beyond it— has already chosen you."
With a snap of her fingers, the surroundings changed. Images appeared: events from Noah's life since arriving in Grayeridge—the church incident, meeting Ezra, and the summer trip.
"What's going on?" he asked, his voice shaking.
"You shouldn't interfere with what you don't understand. You're a child, not an adult Your father's death— that moment— doesn't have to define your choices."
Noah clenched his fists. "My dad gave up. I won't."
The witch looked at him, her eyes invisible yet piercing. "Such childish resolve. Still... each of you has your scars. One seeks a place to belong. One hunts something lost. One desires praise. And you— you cling to resolve because you're afraid to stop."
Noah remained silent. The truth felt too close.
"Let's talk business," the witch said, clapping her hands. Cassidy's journal appeared, glowing— transforming into a grimoire.
"That journal was stolen from me," she explained. "Separated from the shards, it became a mundane book. Now, it remembers what it once was."
Noah flipped through the pages, stunned.
"What are the shards?" he asked.
"Portals to the beyond. Some are spiritual. Some are malevolent. All are dangerous. They're slowly pulling this world apart."
"And if they succeed?" Noah inquired.
"Then the stronger world consumes the weaker."
Noah hesitated. "How many worlds are there?"
"Too many. More than even I can count. Some are already gone, like the one Cassidy came from."
He paused, curious. "What happened to your world?"
The witch's voice dropped. "It was devoured. Not destroyed. Consumed... by Sundawn, the Bringer of Light."
Noah turned the pages, stopping at one written in crimson ink:
> Do not speak the true name of the GlassFather. For that which is named will awaken.
The witch snapped the book shut, her voice sharp and forceful. "Never. Say. That. Name."
The witch's stare bore into Noah with unfathomable pressure. The atmosphere grew heavy, and even the floating books above paused in the air.
"If you call out to it," the witch warned, "you doom more than just yourself."
Noah swallowed and nodded. "I understand."
"Good. Then listen well. That grimoire now belongs to you. Inside are pages Cassidy wrote based on her encounters, but many are incomplete. She wasn't strong enough to finish it."
Noah turned to the chapter on shards. Each one was different — some dormant, some pulsing with power. Others... sentient.
"The mirror shard you touched — it's tied to something far older. That wasn't a coincidence."
"Why me?" he asked. "Why always me?"
The witch tilted her head. "Because your world is fragile. And the veil between it and the beyond is thinnest here in Grayeridge. You're not the first, and sadly, you won't be the last."
Noah stood, holding the grimoire. "Then teach me how to fight back."
The witch gave a cold smile. "Oh, I will. But it won't be easy. And if you fail... you'll wish you hadn't tried."
From the corridor, the pink-furred Dodo watched in silence. For a moment, its expression softened — a flicker of sympathy.
In the distance, thunder rumbled. The world was shifting.
And time was running out.