"The simple fact is that I need an heir; a daughter. Many years ago, I promised my firstborn to a clever fae, in return for beauty and power, and, so far I have failed to produce. He has grewn weary of waiting, and as I have no intention of cheating him, we discussed and came upon this solution. If I will not bear my offspring live, I will create them from the cauldron of magic."
"You my dear, are a reasonably adaquate component for this spell, but your powers are lacking to be a true heir of my power.. and so I will combine your spirit and magicks with those of your lover Winoa. The two of you together, your blood purged of its muddy history, and annointed with the firstborn birthright, infused with my pureblood heritidge and covered in our merged histories... you will soon become my daughter by every conceivable measure."
"And when my sorcery is complete, I will turn you over to my associate, to do with whatever the fair folk do with firstborn heirs. Thus fulfilling my end of the bargain completely."
Zoee shook her head, eyes wide.
"You're mad!"
"No my dear, I'm keeping my promises in the best way I can. You'll agree soon enough." Countess Svajone gloated.
Zoee began to twist and scream, but the Countess was done monologuing. She waved her hands and a glass wall appeared around Zoee, wide at the bottom and thin at the top like a beaker. She bolstered her wards, and when the Countess was confident her captives wouldn't be seen or heard or her spell interrupted, she teleported away. For while these young witches wouldn't be missed, the Countess herself could not risk being unaccounted for.