Once again the otterwitch comes back, this time practicing her magic actively, and in a fairy circle of all places...
She is a very inherently magical person, to her magic is as natural as breathing- quite literally. Her magics are something she can't just not do, they are a part of her. Without them at this point she would die. Magic keeps her heart beating, flows out in her blood, races through her eyes, through her mind... this magical overwhelm makes her a bit eccentric, but she has her wisdoms, and she is patient, although very odd...

In her past a near-death experience unlocked something inside of her, something powerful, something not even she can entirely understand just yet. She sees the magical flow of the world, and her gods are the moon and the stars and the sun and the flow of life through the world they live on.

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Do you believe in the veil? The thin line between our world and the world of monsters and fey, the iridescent shimmer of moonlight through which you can sometimes see the most peculiar shapes and shadows. A tiny puncture seeps through and magic is cultivated. I look at all others who attempt their magics and I step aside. Do you see what I see?

We all pull our magics from different places, from blood or from study or form sacrifice. I can see them all, the different types, radiating out from different people. Even those who can't use magic all have that little spark, that gentle heartbeat. Life is a magical thing, is it not? So is death. I look into the sand falling through a creature's hour glass, I see the world shift. This is how I see every day of my life, for once when I was a child, I looked into the heart of magic itself, I looked up at the sky and I came to realize that we are tiny, and the world is large, and yet we are all connected. We are not connected merely in the idea that we all live in the same world, but that we are all a part of the same world- born of dust, turning to dust, and born of dust again, a cycle not exactly reincarnation but even more sacred to me. I forsake all worship in my pursuit of knowledge in magic, I forsake all other magics in pursuit of my own.

Sometimes the magical sight becomes so powerful I must cover my eyes as though shielding them against a great sun when all others around it are mere candleflames. I walk through the world partially blinded and yet I see so much more than anyone I speak to.

Magical eyes, magical eyes, and yet when I look in the mirror, I see nothing. So then, what have I become?

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She still does not have a name, but at least now I know why. She follows on the old magics, the ones where, with a name, you can perform all sorts of powerful spells on a person. She doesn't know if there are any other witches out there like her, but she doesn't dare risk it. Giving out her name might be her ultimate show of trust, if she ever finds someone she can trust.