_Aaron’s POV_
Pain radiated through my body, sharp and unrelenting, as I forced my eyes open. The dim light of the room blurred my vision, but the scent of burning herbs and damp earth grounded me. I was alive. Barely.
“Ah, you’re awake.”
The voice was familiar, smooth and condescending. I turned my head, wincing at the effort, to find the witch standing near a bubbling cauldron.
“You didn’t let me die,” I said, my voice raspy, more an accusation than gratitude.
She smirked, stirring the pot with deliberate slowness. “Don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t save you out of kindness. You’re useful to me, Aaron, and you’re far from finished.”
I pushed myself upright, the movement sending a wave of nausea through me. “I know what needs to be done,” I said, cutting to the chase. “The full moon
