Silence for a moment. The hag's eyes opened, and they were no longer hollow. They burned with flame, as black and depthless as the void. Her mouth opened, stretching impossibly wide as she breathed:

"Within the iron mountain
a stolen child waits.
A king no longer on his throne
shall guide you past the gates."

"Oh, fabulous," Puck muttered, sitting back in his chair and rolling his eyes. "I love riddles. And they rhyme so nicely. Ask where we can find the Iron King."

"Where can we find the Iron King?"

The oracle sighed, voices erupting from her throat to whisper:

"In Blight's heart
a tower sings
upon whose thrones
sit Iron Kings."

"Blight," Puck nodded, arching his eyebrows. "And singing towers. Well, this gets better and better. I'm sure glad we decided to come here. Prince, can you think of anything you want to ask our most obliging oracle?"

Ash, deep in thought with his chin in his hands, raised his head. His eyes narrowed. "Ask her how we can kill him," he demanded.

(Ping)

"How do we kill him?"

The oracle's mouth opened once more, saying,

"The King of Iron cannot be slain
by mortal man or fey.
Seek out the Keepers of the trees.
Their hearts will show the way."

No sooner were the last words out of her mouth than the oracle collapsed on the table. For a moment she lay there, and then she just...disintegrated. Dust flew everywhere. The oracle was gone. Only a few dust motes showed she had been there at all.

"I believe," Grimalkin said, peering over the table rim, "that our audience is over."

She stands.

The entire time she was silent, thinking it over.

Grim and the boys start to leave the Voodoo Museum

She follows, looking up at the ceiling of the museum.