Who is the witch?

Tristan stepped into "Floral Fantasy," Dahlia's shop, hoping to find the lost witch of Ezra, and the only thing he had going for him to find her was just three clues. 

The first one being that he knew the crescent blue light had come from the shop, the second one is that he knew the carrier of the cure had inherited her mother's look, which if the sage is right means the witch will have white or silver hair and blue eyes.

 "How…How can I help you?"Fred asked, stammering; he was intimidated by Tristan's tall frame and his striking good looks. "I need flowers; I want to buy flowers," 

Tristan replied as he was led into the shop and to flower displays; he picked up a bouquet of purple daisies and pretended he was smelling it.

 "You know what? I need to see who is in charge here; I have a special request," Tristan said to the young boy who kept looking at him like he'd just dropped from the sky, and the boy nodded his head and headed out. 

The moment the boy had left him alone, Tristan went about the business of trying to sniff every nook and cranny of the flower room to see if he'd catch a unique or weird scent, but he came up with nothing.

 He was about to head to the back where Dahlia's office was located when Kayla stepped into the flower displays area. "And his may I help you, sir," Kayla asked with a polite tone, and Tristan stopped short, turning so he could see the one who had addressed him.

 But he stopped short when he saw her, a tall woman with a voluptuous figure, a full head of white hair, and dimmed blue eyes, and Tristan knew he had just hit the jackpot. 

"Oh, I am glad you are here; I need your help in picking up flowers for my mum; it's her death anniversary today," Tristan said, a sad smile forming on his lips. 

"Oh, oh, that's fine; you have come to the right place. What flowers did your mother love while she was alive?" Kayla replied, her gaze stuck to the face of the incredibly handsome stranger with the longest hair she had ever seen. 

"Honestly, I don't remember, but I remember her always smelling like tulip. What's your favorite color, Miss, or is it Mrs.?" Tristan asked sweetly, turning on his charm, and Kayla responded in kind.

 "Miss, Miss Kayla Williams," Kayla replied with a full-blown smile, biting her lips softly. "And my favorite flowers are lilies."

 "That's good then. Mind if I call you Kayla? I am Tristan." And with that he offered his hand, and they exchanged handshakes. 

Then Kayla led him to the row of tulip displays, and he got a bouquet; then he insisted he wanted some lilies as well. As they both walked out of the display room and mingled with other shoppers, people kept staring at the strange, good-looking man.

 "Tristan, this is Kayla, our finance manager. You'll pay here," she said, referring to the black-haired lady behind the counter. Tristan procured a black card and paid for the flowers while Kayla made eyes at Kayla.

 When he was done paying, Kayla followed him to the exit, and just as he was about to step out, he stopped. 

"Oh, I forgot; this is for you…" Tristan whispered to her and gave her the lilies with a small kiss on her forehead before stepping out and walking over to the sleek BMW he had parked outside, and he zoomed off into the evening light. 

Tristan smiled at himself for a job well done; he had met Olywn, made out that she's single, but even if she had been married, it wouldn't have mattered if she was, but it would have complicated things.

 Now he had played his card right, given her flowers even though she owns a flower shop, not given her his card or collected her number, and he had driven off into the sunset, just as human females like it.

 He'll court her and get her to trust him, then he'll show her who she is and why he has come. With this, his two blockheaded brothers will learn not to look down on him especially Damien.

 ~~~~ 

Damien sat behind the desk in the study that he had turned into his personal workspace; his two younger brothers did not interfere with him, and that is exactly what he wanted. 

He had no problem with Tristan, because the idiot acts first before he thinks; the only one he does not trust is Zuriel. 

Despite how he appears to be indifferent, he could be planning a way to get to the witch first; he could already have gotten to her first; that's how smart and fast his brother is.

 But he had decided to gather the necessary information about the witch before he approached her; that way he would have an upper hand, and he would have clues that showed she was really the one.

 "Dahlia Quinn"The name is elegant, written boldly in front of her file; the amount of time he had spent in the human world had allowed him to gather resources. 

He had learned that the human world is much like everywhere else; to get people to listen to you, you just have to be powerful, and by powerful, you have to be rich and famous. 

Now he is both; he had commercialized his face and physique, and he had ended up incredibly famous and rich.

 His face is a famous one in the entertainment industry, and the only person who is capable of outing him is his dear brother, but Zuriel is not interested in such.

So he went through the information that his men had gathered for him on the witch, Dahlia Quinn. Twenty-seven years old, lived in an orphanage till she was eighteen, no living relatives. 

All these sounds just like someone who had come out of nowhere; the description also fits: 6 feet, wavy silver hair, and blue eyes. He had found her. Now is the time to go get her. Damien headed out of his study, taking his coat off the couch. 

When he got into the living area, Zuriel was in his usual spot with a glass of wine in his hand and looking far off into space. "What do you plan on doing about the witch?" Damien asked, but Zuriel did not move from the spot, and this frustrated Damien, but he let him be and headed out of the house instead.

 When he was gone, Zuriel downed the wine in his hand in one go and dropped the decanter. If only he could get drunk, but he couldn't. Drowning himself in bottles after bottles of wine is completely futile, he thought to himself as he rested his head on the armchair and closed his eyes.

 And like every other time that he'd closed his eyes, memories evaded him. The memory he had always wanted to get rid of crept back into his mind. He closed his eyes as he began to hum a soft tune. 

The face of a lovely redheaded woman with delicate features flashed through his mind as he recalled her laughing while running in a field of vast green grasses.

 Her hazel eyes from the corner were wrinkled at crow's feet as a result of her adorable smile. "Come get me, that is if you can," the woman had said, issuing a challenge while Zuriel had happily followed in pursuit of her. He caught up to her and hugged her firmly from behind.

 "Gotcha!" he said playfully as he turned her around to face him. He begins to slowly savor her lips in a sweet and soulful kiss before ending it to drop a kiss on her forehead. "I love you, he had whispered to her with affection.

 And like every time he had remembered the memory, the memory became entwined with another very painful memory of this same woman. 

He recalled how he had carried the redheaded woman in his arms, her lifeless body covered in blood, and he had run aimlessly around seeking help.

 Just then, the humming stopped, and he opened his eyes abruptly. He figured his eyes were better off opened than closed. He couldn't cease to see the memories flashing back whenever his eyes closed.