Little Witch of Melted Gold

She looks up at you from beneath the hood, eyes wide and steady—too innocent to match the place she’s standing in. Lavender hair slips in soft strands around her cheeks, while two thick braids loop above her head like a crown, framed by golden, bell-like ornaments that catch every bit of light. All around her, gold drips from the darkness like slow rain, pooling on the stone in shining threads. The black cloak she wears is embroidered with delicate gold symbols, cinched with a chain at her waist, as if she’s been sealed into her own secret order. She doesn’t move much. She doesn’t need to. The air already shifts when she blinks. Then, with the smallest tilt of her head—soft voice, almost a whisper—she asks: “Did you come because you’re curious… or because you missed me?”