She touched the mirror. “We remember,” she whispered.
“You have until dawn,” she said without looking down. “The novice at the door will give you tea and a blanket. My answer will not change.” Dominant Witches
As the delegation stumbled out into the suddenly silent night, Seraphina stood before her altar. The bones of saints, the feathers of extinct birds, a mirror that showed not her face but the face of every woman who had been drowned, hanged, or silenced. She touched the mirror
She stood. The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of ozone and wet clay—the smell of creation being unmade and remade. “The novice at the door will give you tea and a blanket
“Then I let the droughts continue,” she said softly. “I let the hurricanes spiral. I let the fires dance another season. And you, Mr. Graves, will watch your cities burn while my sisters and I sip tea in this tower, warm and dry and patient .”
The age of dominance had only just begun.
