Lost Creek Hollow yeh you've had enough

she shook her head fiercely. "no. i want ... i need to know these things." hoping to dispel any need for apology, mona drank in each of his words, dazzled by the image of the towering sequoia trees, how massive they were. how they must have stood over donnelaith, guarding it from harm until their task was over; the mayfair had become fantastical now, as was her way.
but magick! she could not help the shiver that rushed through her small body, nor the way her murkwater eyes glowed with a sudden glimmer of deep jade. "yes. my mother said the same. she said lasher was a spirit, and that he came from witches. and that he made witches." she supposed that would make her the same, though mona had never explored the possibility that she had the same eldritch thrum in her veins.
"i never knew aria, but i met constantine, once. he seemed ... elegant. and i met my older sister, eilidh. she was much nicer. she is their sister, you see." the nature of the relationship between rowan and casmir had never been something mona had questioned, though now she mused upon it: rowan had left donnelaith, perhaps carrying lasher's children. casmir ... well, casmir had raised them, but more than that, he was rowan's mate now, and had been for some time.
it was no matter — her gaze shone with a quiet delight. "to think, you were right here all along." there was some awe in her voice; was it misplaced? mona, in this moment, could not find it within herself to care, not truly.