Wendy is once again, woken up by loud banging at her door. Except, this time, it isn’t her door, and she isn’t in her room. She stares at the unfamiliar front door, trying to piece together the scattered pieces of memory that lead her here - who knew she would also get the memory span of an old woman too? 

“Porthaven door!” the fire - Yerim, she recalls - yelled. “Porthaven door! Come before they break the damn thing down!”

“Coming!” a girly voice calls out. Wendy shuts her eyes and pretends she’s asleep when a tall, blonde girl runs down the stairs and stops by her side, “Who’s this old lady? How’d she get in here, Yerim?”

“Just open the door!”

“Okay, okay!” she huffs, “So bossy.” The girl moves to the opposite side of the room, to a table piled high with trinkets and books (and also some food, Wendy isn’t sure why they would be on the same table, though), and grabs a sage green cloak and a wide witch hat from it. The unnamed blonde hurriedly wraps the ragged cloth around her shoulders and pulls her hat over her head.                                                                                       

Wendy stares at her with now widened eyes, as a long, black veil flows from the hat and shrouds the girl in its darkness, but instead of just covering her face, the veil completely transforms it. Her light green eyes turn into a deep black colour; her strawberry blonde hair - which was thick and wavy - now appears black, cut in layers with thin bangs slightly covering her eyes. She also seems older now, her features seem more aged and mature.

Wendy’s gaze doesn’t leave the raven as she approaches the front door, “Stand by,” she announces. As the younger girl twists the knob of the front door, the old woman notices the colour wheel nearby also turning, the arrow now indicates blue - whatever blue means, anyway.

She doesn't get a chance to linger on it as the witch swings open the front door, revealing an overweight man, dressed to the nines. “Mister Mayor,” she greets, “Good day, sir.”

“Good afternoon, Miss,” the man bellows, “Is Master Jenkins at home?”

“I’m afraid my Master is out at the moment, I answer in her stead.”

“Very well,” the man reaches into his pockets and pulls out an envelope, “An invitation from The King. The time for war is upon us, and His Majesty desires every witch and wizard - the ones who are of age,” he clears his throat, and Wendy sees how the girl stiffens up, “to aid our homeland. Her presence is imperative. That is all.”

When the man leaves, she could hear the girl mutter “I thought I hid my age well…” At this point, the short woman has given up on pretending to be asleep. She gets up and adds more wood to the fire, “I can’t believe it has come to war,” she sighs.

“And what do you think you’re doing here, grandma?” The image of the girl crossing her arms reminds Wendy of a child throwing a tantrum, but she keeps her thoughts to herself.

“Yerim let me in,” she smiles at the fire.

“I did not!” exclaimed the demon, “She wandered in from the Wastes. D-don’t look at me!” 

“The Wastes..?” she narrows her eyes in thought, “You watched as a witch came into the castle!?”

The fire scoffs at the accusation, “Do ya really think I would let a witch in here?”

Wendy observes the exchange in silence and holds back a giggle when the young witch rolls her eyes as an answer. She flips the veil of her hat back, revealing her young (and cute, Wendy notes) face. What confuses the old lady, though, is that her hair, still covered by the veil, remains dark black. 

“It’s just an illusion, grandma,” because that makes perfect sense, she wants to say. “Yerim, were there any visitors in other locations?” She approaches the same table that her disguise was laid on and opens a thick book, coughing when a cloud of dust is blown into her face, “I think there’s some orders due today.”

“You know I can help with that,” Wendy gestures to the dust, “I’ll be your cleaning lady.”

The bell rings and Yerim calls out, “Porthaven, again.”

“Must be a customer,” the witch closes the giant book and pulls her veil over her face, concealing her identity once again and opens the door, “State your purpose,” she speaks to someone. Wendy cranes her head to take a look but the witch’s tall stature covers whoever is at the door.

“My mom sent me,” a high-pitched voice answers, Wendy guesses the customer is a child.

“The usual, right? Come in,” the witch returns to the table once more, “And you,” she glares at the old woman, “You behave yourself.”

But Wendy is busy about something else, when the door was no longer covered by the witch, she could see the city outside, and it wasn’t the Wastes that she came from. She trudges to the window and stares out in awe as the sea seems to glisten in the sunlight.

“Are you a witch, too?” the child asks her.

“That’s right, I’m the scariest witch in the land~” she does her best impression of an evil cackle, cringing internally when she gets reminded of another witch’s laugh. She smiles when the little girl giggles.

The young witch returns with a small packet in her hands, “Sprinkle this powder on your ship and the winds will favour it.” The girl leaves after saying her thanks. The witch turns to her once more and scowls, “Quit telling lies to our customers,” she scolds.

“You shouldn’t talk, you’re wearing a disguise.”

“I have to, I’m practising my magic!”

Their conversation is cut short when the bell rings again, “It’s the Kingsbury door!”

Yerim calls out. The young witch gives her a last warning glare before heading back down to the door, she turns the knob again, this time it’s to a place marked with the colour red. 

There, a royal guard, who was dressed in a coral uniform she was so familiar with, bows. “Good day,” he greets the witch, “Would this be the residence of the great Wizard Pendragon?”

“Yes, it is,” the witch nods.
He holds out the same envelope the mayor had given her before, “I bear an invitation from His Majesty. Please inform