Baba Yaga stood over where her hut once stood, with nothing but burn marks serving as a reminder that something once persisted at that location.
About her, ash trees grew but in that location, they seemed to avoid it like a plague.
It remained to be seen if it was because of the corrupted air around the area or perhaps due to the burn marks that came about as a result of Arwen's death flames.
In any case, Baba Yaga, using her pestle as a walking stick, seemed weaker, even more crooked than before, her expression unreadable as she stood silently at the center of the space.
Just then, a series of golden particles began to emerge from the ground, catching the attention of the Undeath.
The golden glow of the particles reflected in Baba Yaga's irisless pupils as they began to congregate at a point before finally reforming into a familiar face.
Baba Yaga went wide-eyed, surprised to see a face she thought gone for good.
