As we neared Miss Daisy's dwellings, taking a more circuitous route this time, I noticed a peculiar change in her door. During my previous visit, it had been notorious for its deceptive appearance and unconventional function, and I had no doubt that it would prove to be just as enigmatic this time around.

With a resigned sigh, I approached the door. Despite the clear presence of a handle inviting me to pull, I instinctively pushed inward. To my surprise, the door swung open easily, revealing the interior beyond. As I stepped inside, a sudden commotion erupted, accompanied by a blur of light that zipped past Tiger and me, startling us both.

"My Lady, you've returned!" Lemy squeaked, her voice laced with palpable relief.

Returning her enthusiasm with a smile, I praised her efforts. "You did splendidly! Your execution of my instructions was flawless!"

A voice resonated from within the dwelling. "Ah, my dear, you've returned so soon. Come in, come in. Your rabbit companion is currently indulging in a bit of playtime with my lad. It's been ages since I've allowed him such frivolity," the voice chuckled with a hint of mischief.

Stepping into the familiar room, I noted the unchanged scene—a line of individuals awaiting their turn, with a goblin seated behind a desk. As I approached, the goblin addressed me, its tone businesslike. "Do you have a number?"

Unwilling to entertain the charade, I summoned my power and swiftly directed it toward the goblin as well as the tendrils of light and shadow that sustained the illusion.

As expected, the goblin deftly intercepted the attack, displaying an unexpected resilience. "Well done, girl," it remarked, unfazed by my attempted disruption.

With a shimmer, the room transformed, revealing the Hag seated in a chair amidst surroundings more akin to a hovel. Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with jars and assorted oddities, while a pile of bones in the corner caught my attention—something I chose not to inspect too closely.

"Directness has its merits, even within these walls," she remarked, her voice carrying a tone of sagacious observation. "When your companion first arrived, I was tempted to pluck her wings for disrupting some of my more delicate possessions. Yet, she proved surprisingly adept at her task, considering her lineage."

I recalled the tendency of Lower Fae to be easily distracted and disorganized—an oversight on my part when I dispatched Lemy. Nevertheless, it seemed her performance had exceeded expectations. With practiced grace, I crossed the room and took a seat opposite Ms. Daisy, offering a respectful curtsy before settling in. It seemed that courtesy was becoming a familiar ritual in my interactions, a concession to the formalities of the Fae realm.

Meeting Miss Daisy's gaze with unwavering resolve, I declared firmly, "I'm here to learn."

One of her warty eyebrows arched skeptically. "And why should I invest my time in you?" she challenged, her tone sharp. "The last time I attempted to impart knowledge, you opted for brute force over finesse, choosing to annihilate my poor pet rather than employ the subtleties of illusion magic."

Her words cut deep, serving as a harsh reminder of my past failures. However, instead of faltering, a steely determination welled within me. Reflecting on my recent experiences, I recalled the lesson imparted not long ago: "We are Winter."

Miss Daisy's response was immediate—a hearty cackle that echoed through the room as she reassessed me. "Indeed, we are," she admitted, acknowledging my declaration.

Taking my seat, I observed as an empty cup materialized beside me—an expected trick of the Fey, steeped in their love for playful illusions. However, the appearance of hands from behind my seat to pour tea into the cup made me feel uneasy. When I noticed a masked figure with chicken feet seated beside me, I remained still trying to calm my heart. I thought he was stalling the Rabbit?

Amusement danced in Miss Daisy's eyes as she observed my discomfort. Extending a hand, she offered me a piece of candy along with the tea. I politely declined the offer, wary of any tricks.

"Smart girl, very smart," she remarked, popping the candy into her own mouth. "Tell me, what do you know about hags?" she inquired, her curiosity evident.

I paused, considering her words carefully before responding, "Only what I've been told. That hags form covens, vie for power through deceit and manipulation, peddle false hopes, and are considered among the most malevolent of the Winter court. They're not to be trusted."

Her laughter, both unsettling and strangely captivating, filled the room as her form began to shift into that of a beautiful elf maiden. "You're mostly right," she conceded, her voice carrying a weight of truth. "But we do not peddle false dreams or hopes. We deliver precisely what is asked for, and oftentimes, the fulfillment of a wish proves to be a curse in itself."

As she fell silent, I pondered her words, grappling with the implications of her revelation. Unsure of her intentions, I chose my next words carefully. "If I may inquire, what do you gain in return for providing such services?"

Her gaze bore into mine, piercing and inscrutable. "The only thing we all covet, dearie: Power. With each deal fulfilled to the letter, we accrue power—the ability to draw more power from the world, to manipulate light and shadow, to..."

I raised my hand, halting her explanation. "I understand," I interjected. "You make deals, and in return, you gain power. But what happens if you fail to uphold your end of the bargain or if the expectations of the deal are not met?" I pressed, seeking to understand the consequences of crossing a hag.

Her cool gaze bore into me, and I felt a twinge of discomfort at her admonishment. "It's impolite to interrupt your elders, child. Avoid making that mistake again, for it can prove to be a costly one," she cautioned, her tone carrying a weight of authority. "Now, to answer your question: if a Hag fails to meet her or his obligations, the consequences are dire. We diminish."

Her words sent a chill down my spine as I realized the gravity of the situation. The Hag had entered into a pact with my father to mentor me in the ways of magic, a duty she was bound to fulfill. And with my imminent departure for the lands of the humans drawing near, the stakes had never been higher.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, a smile crept across my face, baring my teeth. I noticed Tiger shifting uncomfortably beside me, sensing the tension in the air. "So, you are bound by obligation to my father. What price would you pay if you were to fail in fulfilling it?" I inquired, my curiosity tinged with a hint of apprehension.

"Indeed, dearie. It is a burden I wish not to share but cannot afford to neglect," she affirmed, sidestepping my question with practiced finesse. "However, I find myself pressed for time to provide you with direct instruction. But fret not, for I may have an alternative solution in mind," she continued, her tone cryptic yet intriguing.

Leaning forward, I pressed her for further information. "And what might that be?"

She stared at me unmoving and unblinking for a moment. I raised my eyebrow at her then looked to Tiger. He looked at me and shrugged.

At that moment, the masked figure placed a hefty tome on a nearby table with a thud that startled me into a defensive posture, my power instinctively wrapping around me. The masked figure just pointed back at Ms. Daisy.

Her gaze pierced through me, a glimmer of seriousness cutting through the mirth. "With your impending departure, there's only so much I can teach," she lamented, a hint of genuine regret in her voice.

I shivered at the implication. She would not physically scar me but would certainly leave me with some painful memories.

Miss Daisy eyed the book, then me. "This contains everything you need to know. You have two choices: learn from me in the days you have left, fulfilling your father's bargain, or take this book and master its secrets on your own, with certain... conditions."

My response was immediate, a reflection of the caution that my experiences in the Fey realm had instilled in me. "Not a chance," I said firmly.

Her cackle filled the air once more. "Smart girl," she praised. "All I want is for you to consider starting your own coven."

I scoffed at the notion, my skepticism apparent. "Why would I want to start a coven? "

Miss Daisy shook her head, a frown marring her features. "How much do you know about Queen Mab?" she inquired, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes.

"Only that she's unreachable," I replied, curiosity piqued despite my reservations.

"Starting a coven with me would have many benefits, many. Doing so would greatly enhance your power, not many are as old as I." She said with the smile on her now elven face.

"Uh huh. That and I'll become like you, hunched and warted? Pushed out of society and cutting deals in the shadows? Why would you ever think I would even consider this as an option? You made a deal with my father. I demand that you fulfill your bargain," I retorted, my voice laced with defiance and determination.

With a graceful wave of her hand, Miss Daisy beckoned me to sit once more. "Let me tell you a story.

She sipped her tea delicately before glancing at mine, a silent invitation for me to do the same. Despite my hesitation, I remained unmoving. Sensing my reluctance, she sighed softly. "I give you my word, child, that it will not harm you. It is a part of our lesson," she assured me, her tone carrying a gentle insistence.

After a moment of consideration, I cautiously lifted the cup and took a minor sip. Miss Daisy nodded in appreciation, a hint of satisfaction gleaming in her eyes.

"Let's begin with the story of two sisters and a young, beautiful maiden."