Skye.
As I walked away from the witch's place, her last words echoed in my mind, casting a dark shadow over everything she had said. The voice in my head—the one that was tormenting me yet had indirectly helped when I was in danger—was her grandmother?
I scoffed as doubt twisted in my gut. Could I really trust anything the witch had told me? Or was this just another layer of manipulation?
Her words were like a puzzle that had haunted me for so long—one that I couldn't solve no matter how hard I tried.
The curse, the voice in my head, how my insecurities had shaped the curse, how my desire to be seen like my sister had warped reality—It all made sense now, in a twisted, painful way, but what had left me feeling raw, vulnerable, and more confused was the involvement of her grandmother’s.
