Umbra

Just because you know how it works doesn't mean it isn't magic.

She is a jarring sight, the clan witch. Bones rattling, leather creaking, pearl nested between her wings or carried by familiars, startled glances and racing hearts define her entrance into a room.

She is a welcome sight. One of the first to join the lair, barely older than the hatchlings, she saw the work needed and set to learning it. All clans need healers and caregivers - she would not let her new home count itself among those who did without. She watched the healers of other clans, dove into handbooks and tomes, bargained internships. At first, medicine, the repair of bodies and repelling of disease - and then more. Witches are not a common sight in Lightning, but once she found its philosophy she knew she'd found her calling. A strong clan begins with preventing illness of body and mind, with closing all cracks someone could slip through.

They know she's learned from standard books and apprenticeships. She's got the same training as any healer or assistant. She's good at asking the right questions, reading expressions and tone. The potions are standard. She takes apprentices, anyone could learn what she knows, the bones are just calcium and the red just paint-

And yet, she seems a little something more. A little more mystical, a little more impossible. The bones could be alive, could be dragon bones, could be her own. It's not paint--her skin is transparent, no, wiped with blood, or wait, formed of clay. What if she can read minds, learned forgotten magic to probe thoughts?

No one falls silently if they think someone might hear them. They call out, and she heaves them back up.