The Witch watched Mannat in the garden, concentrating with a hand on a tomato. His eyes closed, forehead creased and mood steady.

He was back at the clearing.

A few weeks had passed since the night Pandit lost his brother. The season had changed in-between and summer was in full bloom. The days were sweltering, the reason why Mannat was shirtless.

However, the season had no impact on the Witch or her garden. She still wore the same black gown, though the bend of her back was obviously worse than before.

Mannat’s hair had grown longer. Soman had cut them last time. Perhaps it was time he got them trimmed again. It would have to wait until he went to town with his father. For now, they fell down the side of his face like vines down a wall. They covered his ears and hid his leaf-green eyes. Surprising was the subtle hair growth on his chin.

He had grown another inch taller in the time and wore loose pants, the bottom folded to just below the knees.

Suddenly, Mannat exhaled softly and broke the tomato from the branch. He looked at it and smiled, then rubbed it on his sleeve and took a bite. Saucy, red juice flowed down his chin; his mana replenished.

He took another bite of the tomato as bells rang in his mind. A notification flashed in front of his eyes and told him his Mana strike had reached level three. He knew the result the moment the tomato dropped into his hand.

The Witch knew what he was thinking when he looked over at her. Their eyes met and she saw his lips curl. He was happy, thinking he was another step closer to curing his mother. It was true.

She sensed the mana flowing in the air and looked east. Her sight went far past the forest and the city, beyond the capital, the kingdom, and the mountains. She saw a world Mannat had never seen or imagined.

She sensed the ignorance of the people, their denial, and their broken faith.

The world was changing.

It might not change in a day or even in months, but Mannat didn’t have much time. The boy thought he would be able to fight the change, but she knew the truth or a version of it. She had tried to warn the world once.

A snicker appeared on the Witch’s face. Of course, they had laughed at her, called her a heretic, and imprisoned her. The day was coming when she would look at the world and the people in the eyes and laugh at them.

A cold glint passed through her eyes.

They'd regret mocking her.