One of the other witches, a younger woman with fiery red hair, spoke up. "The balance is shifting. Something, or someone, is disrupting the natural order. We've been trying to trace the source, but it's elusive."
Bryan, who had been quiet so far, interjected. "Elusive how? Like someone's hiding it, or it's moving around?"
The red-haired witch frowned. "Both. Whatever it is, it's cloaked in powerful magic, constantly shifting its location. We only catch glimpses."
Quill snorted. "Sounds like we're hunting a ghost."
"No," Isolde corrected, her voice serious. "Not a ghost. Something far worse."
The room fell into a heavy silence. Eamon could feel the tension prickling at the back of his neck, the gravity of their situation settling in.
Before anyone could speak again, there was a sudden, sharp knock at the door, startling everyone. One of the witches jumped up to answer it. Moments later, she returned, looking uneasy.
