The door of her vault creaks, when she enters. The usual, calming smell of darkness, candles and dust, a fond touch of her fingers pressing on her father's coffin, and the lilies she put there last week have to be replaced.
She pushes the stone to free the underground stairs, and begins.
Her spell books are still there – her hearts, her potions, but this time she wants to do this right, this time, she's being good. It tastes weird, being good.
This night, she'll search in every book, because her son wants his other mother back.
She'll find a way.