"To worlds without magic?" he prompts. "Or worlds like yours? Or to both?"

This is more the reaction he is accustomed to. She is unsteady, fearful and forthcoming, and she should be. She is addressing the Dark One, and it may finally be occurring to her just how true that title holds. Not everyone can sense the magic, bottomless and pooled in his every atom, but there are certain sparks of unimaginable things that lace his words and his stare.

"Why, something like that," and Grizelda chooses that opportune moment to hiss as she slinks to Greta's other side, almost circling her, "you simply must tell me more, dearie."