They say it finds you. A shard of frozen time. A window into what hasn't happened yet.
To hold the Witchglass is to hold the world by its throat. It offers the nectar of immortality and the burden of sight. But the glass is jealous, and it does not give without taking.
The Keeper
She has worn universality like a gown for centuries. To the world, she is a vision of spring, untouched by the wheel of time. But in the reflection of the glass, the mask falls away. There, she is wrought iron and rust, bent under the weight of four hundred winters.
Now, the glass grows heavy. It whispers of two paths—a surrender to peace, or a war for existence. Shadows are gathering at the edges of her vision, and a trickster lurks in the blind spots of the future.
She believes the choice is hers to make. She does not yet see that the glass has already chosen.