Blackfeather Woods Sleep is a little Death.

Potema finished the task of dropping fetishes quickly. The weakening of the bonds was rare and only occasionally. She honestly doubted that her fetishes did much to change it, as it was in constant flux. It was a precaution, however; they could not afford to lose touch with the Void.

The silence of the Temple allowed her to clearly hear the soft noises her daughter made, from her hobbling footsteps to the soft sigh and the quiet thump of the mouse. Potema lurched around, her single eye glaring at the malformed creature she had spawned. The white witch's lips curled, a low snarl rumbling in her throat. Get out,