The Curse of Witchery

There was a knock at Toren's door.

He didn't get up to answer the door, and so much time passed before someone knocked again that he thought they'd gone away. Though surprised, he sulkily ignored the call to his door again.

But the knock came once more.

Grunting, the grieving widower got up from his chair to answer. At the other side of the open door, there was a woman with white silver hair, light eyes, and tanned skin.

"Toren," she nodded in greeting. "Thank you for answering. I knew you were in here, and that's why I kept on knocking."

Toren simply looked at her through a hang-over haze.

"I understand you gave away your wife's ring some nights ago."

The drunken haze diminished immediately. "What--How do you have it?"

In all seriousness so Toren did not feel insulted, Afena said, "I assume you wanted to ask what do you mean, how do you know, and why I had it?"

He blew out air through his mouth, rubbed his head, and nodded.