A new age

Any kindness to be found faded, and should she search for sadness, it'd only be found in her eyes. I always keep my promises, Lanariel. The words fell from her lips flatly, and she swept her gaze away.

Asha needs to learn this world is not roses and unicorns. And her father never should have led her to believe such things. But she had allowed it; and they had agreed that as she aged he'd ensure she learned the real way of the world. Morrigan just forgot, consistently, that Asha had been rapidly aging. Dying until she wasn't.

And now she lived with the consequences: a Mythal rage demon on one hand, and a daughter that would never know whatever life she had dreamed about during her coma.

Witches weren't meant to lead normal lives, she supposed. There was no anger, and as Rosalie asked for peace and focus, she shrugged.

If someone gets infected, your experiment might be their only hope. She tilted her head slightly, as if listening. I could always infect someone? I've got some people who owe me a favor or two. Owing Morrigan a favor often meant she'd done something, like save ones life.