"Esme," a voice whispered to her. She sat in complete darkness save for the light coming in through the crack under the door. Groggy she instinctively looked down, trying to get her bearings. She internally groaned, though her skin almost felt numb she felt the cold metal around her neck and knew automatically it was a binding collar. Commonly used to trap and render witches powerless. Her eyes continued to travel down and with her keen heightened sight she could see she was tied to a rusty old office chair. She felt as if she was drifting in and out awareness.
"Esme," the voice called again barely a croak. Even as hoarse and weak as the voice was she recognized it. Her heart began to hammer in her chest. She raised her nose and sniffed the air. Fear and confusion flooded her mind. Where
