Love, thought the witch.
Her life's memories flashed before her eyes but never once did she experience something remotely close to the word called 'love'.
She had no idea who gave birth to her, she just knew that she was on the streets of the Witch Continent since day one of her being conscious.
She begged, she roamed, she fought, and eventually she got stronger after many thousands of years.
In her journey though, she made many enemies and was always on a run from them.
The witches weren't kind. Even though they worked as one, they weren't truly one. A witch was jealous of the progress of another and tried to bring them down by any means necessary.
If it wasn't for the rule that witches couldn't kill other witches, the entire witch society would have collapsed.
The witch had some interest develop within her eyes and looked at Lith.
