Something seemed to have started to hover over Penelope’s eyes like she was remembering something she had seen. A memory that had come to resurface. It was two Eleth ago. Eleth which was also the time in Bonelake where rain didn’t take place for a continuous two weeks. Due to the no rain phase which took place once every year, she had travelled to the two villages in search of work as it was time to start supporting her mother properly. With the lack of respect or presence her own village member showed her and her mother, bringing money back home had been harder to her family than the rest.
After travelling to the expected village with the nickles she had saved for the carriage ride where the theatre was situated in, after walking around and trying to find information on the same. Penny had taken a break for the need of food.
Strolling into the market, all she had wanted was a loaf of bread to suffice her hunger. Instead of the bread though she had stumbled upon a woman and a man who were tied in ropes to a pole. According to one of the village men who was holding the wooden fire in his hand had told the crowd that they were siblings who were witches.
Penny had been confused but the more she heard the more she came to realize the amount of hate the people held against the witches.
The woman who had been tied had cried with a mere line of ‘I am a white witch’ but that had not been enough of an excuse for their bounds to be removed and to let them free. It didn’t matter if the person was a black witch or a white witch, the conclusion by the public was to burn them. Penny wasn’t an expert in knowing who was who but at that time, the villagers looked nothing short to evil with their deeds.
To burn someone without a solid cause but to have them burnt for the sole reason of who they were…it showed how narrow mind and illiterate people were.
She had seen kerosene being poured on them, the same liquid that was used to burn oil during the dark time of the night to lead the way. While the woman cried with tears, her brother hadn’t spoken a word to the public but one word from him and his sister had stopped crying. To see people treating innocents like this had broken her heart. A little bit more of humanity that was lost in the process after her own village.
“I saw a sister and brother being burnt. In front of my eyes, but I couldn’t see it until the end. It was too much for me, Master Damien. I guess it was okay for others who were around me because it was a common thing there. It was then I realized then that the term of witch wasn’t used just for females.”
“Does it haunt you?” asked Damien for her to shake her head.
“No,” she said looking at the white moulded candle that was in her hand, “But it doesn’t make one want to have the same fate.”
“Who is asking you to walk on the same fate?” asked Damien making her lift up her eyes, looking at the deep red eyes that were intently looking at her.
“Are you saying that despite white witches who are not bad are shown mercy on these lands of ours or the others? How many have been spared by the people?” asked Penny making Damien smile, he nodded his head. His mouse was coming up with wanting to know facts.
“Not many. Few actually,” he answered her frankly which only made her frown. Few must be an overestimation as witches were never spared, “I agree what you said but you don’t have to walk the path of the witches who were burnt. Thanks to their alternate sisters who often cause troubles, the white witches are always kept under a keen eye hoping they don’t bring misfortune or fall under the false guidance. The witches who aren’t under the protection of the council usually fall under the target by the villagers who take the matter in their own hands.”
Penny didn’t respond anything to this for a good one minute.
Damien then continued, “A lot of white witches are placed in church work where they help the council members when help is needed.”
“Why did you give me a candle?” she asked looking at it questionably.
“There are some offsprings of the witches who are dormant where they lack skill. But I don’t think it is the same case when it comes to you. If your father was a white witch, the gene must have passed on to you. Candles are best friends of witches. You swish your hands and then you have a lit candle ready.”
“Really?”
“Guillable mouse. No,” he deadpanned, “I don’t know how to do it, we could go to the church for help but it would mean you being on the list of the most prized possession for work. Are you willing to do it? Or would you like to go to the not orthodox way?”
“What is that?” asked Penny.
“I have some witches who don’t work for the council. The white witches, as well as black witches,” hearing this Penny’s eyes turned wide, “Don’t look surprised. You should know me better that I wouldn’t mind associating myself with different kinds. If I didn’t, maybe you would have to fear me for sending you straight to a death sentence,” that was true, thought Penny to herself, “And on a contrary belief, not everyone is bad. There are some rare creatures who want to break free from the existing belief on what people have. Why don’t you give it a try,” said Damien, jerking his head towards the candle.
Penny looked at the candle in her hand, staring at it where nothing happened. She still doubted of her being a white witch and she heard Damien say to her, “To believe is what you become, own it, Penelope.”
