Now that the charm spell had been broken on the house, they looked at the dark silhouette of the house that stood lonely when there were people in there.
Penny had heard and read of how there were some houses that were told to have a soul of their own. As if they were breathing and alive and were only using the people and the living things around them to survive like reaching for its food. It made Penny wonder if that was why some of the trees they had passed by half an hour ago were leafless and bare, looking as if it was going to die.
It wasn't all houses but a house that had many stories to tell, secrets that had been stuffed over and over again without anywhere to spill, it was those houses that turned out to be like that.
"Ready?" Penny asked them. She raised her hand and smiled when she looked at the ball of fire. The black witches had not used spilled magic. How rare, she thought to herself.
