I don’t think I could have ever predicted how powerful the witches of Edevain were. Most of my knowledge of them came from my own imagination mixed with old children’s stories. There the witches were old hags with crooked noses and flying broomsticks. I hadn’t seen anyone fly just yet, but on my third day at the coven house, I woke up in a completely different location.
Well, I was still in the underground room, which my group had claimed as our designated vampiric hub. It was the coven house that had been moved to a different location. We weren’t surrounded by the Colombian forest and mountain scene, we were on a meadow, with nothing but grass hills for as long as the eye could see.
“Enjoy the sun.” One of the witches said to me when I stepped outside. “We are in North America now, it
