I hook my thumbs under my hood and slide it over my head, covering more of my face as I walked with purpose. My footsteps, against the dirty sidewalk, echo through the empty street. My clothes are dark and casual to avoid catching attention. Street lights provide a warm, soft glow over the road to keep it from drowning in the darkness of this summer night. The sky is completely clear of stars, the thin crescent moon the only thing that glows against it's midnight background.

A brightly lit store front comes into vision, specifically the exact one I'm looking for. The single large window is decorated with neon signs in various bright colors that reflect in the puddles that have pooled on the edge of the road. The door reads 'Amy's Jewelry' in worn, cursive letters. I look through the glass door, into the small shop and I can't see anyone in the dim light, but a heartbeat tells me someone is close.

I open the door slowly and a small, loud bell above, announces my arrival by ringing through the silence.

"I'll be out in just a second!" a woman's airy voice calls from the back of the store, hidden from view.

I make my way through the shop apprehensively, glancing at the racks of jewelry and small knickknacks that cover every surface. Bushy, green plants are scattered throughout the store, some even hanging from the ceiling.

A necklace catches my attention out of the corner of my eye and I make my way to it. The necklace holds a small, metal pair of feathery, black wings that are crossed over each other. I run my finger over the cold metal of the wings until I heard footsteps near me.

Looking over my shoulder, I see a tall woman with smooth, chocolate colored skin, that seems to glow in the dim light. Her hair is cropped close to her head and dark, her eyes a warm brown that glisten with knowledge. Only seconds after those eyes land on me, her face drops and she gasps, a green glass bowl slipping from her hands.

My power wraps around the bowl, suspending it midair while I drop the necklace my fingers were still holding and turn to fully face her. Shakily, her hands snatch the bowl, holding it to her chest as if it can protect her. She stumbles back a few steps, almost tripping over her long, dark orange skirt.

"You must be Amy," I greet casually, paying no mind to the terror on her face.

"I know what you are," she says, horror coloring her words. "Get out now!"

I reach up and push my hood off of my head, ignoring the way she recoils when I lift my hands. When my hood drops, her eyes move a mile a minute over every inch of my face.

"I only need a favor and then I will leave," I say.

She shakes her head wildly, her heart pounding so loud even a human may have been able to hear it. She takes another step back and bumps into a table where she realizes that she can't get any further away.

"No," she replies, her voice is stern but it still holds a hint of fear. "I will do nothing for a monster like you."

I wince slightly at her harsh words. I knew she would be able to tell what I am as soon as I walked in, but I was hoping she would be a little more open minded.

"I won't hurt you," I voice softly, hoping to convey how genuine I truly am.

"Liar," she hisses. "You are born from evil, you will do nothing but hurt."

"I was also born and raised from a loving and compassionate mother." I state with an edge to my voice, my patience starting to thin from her insults. "You are wise and have been around for a very long time. You can't truly believe I am purely evil just because I was conceived by someone who is."

She eyes me cautiously, searching my face to see if I'm lying or have ill intent.

"I need you're help," I plead gently.

After a few minutes of hesitant silence, she stiffly waves her hand in my direction. The blinds behind me snap shut, the "Open" sign on the door flipping to "Closed". I raise my eyebrows as I watch, feeling a wave of her magic wash through the air.

"Impressive," I comment honestly.

"That was nothing." she scoffs.

"I don't know much about witches, but I do know that most can't do that." I say.

Most witches are lucky to even produce a charm or make a feather float. It isn't an easy or common gift, you have to be born with it and you have to practice relentlessly.

"Well, most haven't had three hundred years of practice, have they?" she retorts quickly.

My lips twitch upwards slightly, enjoying her wit and anew confidence. Her magic is powerful enough that she has been able to slow her aging, to almost a complete stop.

"No, I guess they haven't." I say, slight amusement in my tone.

"I heard rumors of you, years ago, but I didn't think it was possible." she voices just above a whisper, her thin eyebrows pulling together.

"It shouldn't be possible," I mutter. "And the rumors are true, for the most part anyway."

I can practically see the gears turning in her head as she studies me carefully. Taking a few steps to the side, she sets the glass bowl gently on a shelf close to her. I take note of how she doesn't turn her back to me or look away from me. It's obvious she doesn't trust me but I expected that; trust is earned.

"I'll answer any questions you have after you help me," I offer.

"Why are you asking me for help?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest, with her heart still racing.

"This isn't something I can do myself and you're very powerful. If you can't do it then I don't know anyone else who can," I answer.

After a few drawn out moments of tense silence she clears her throat, shuffling her feet nervously, she asks, "What do you need help with?"

"I need something that can kill me," I reply flatly.