Taking the vegetables she had come for while also picking up other things which were for her own use and not for the humans, she started to walk back home again whilst her eyes scanned in and around to see if the witch hunter had been tailing her like before. One wrong move in front of the people and ti would result in nothing but her death.
When four days passed by and Bathsheba went to look for the male witch again to receive some of the supplies than going to the black market and drawing herself attention, she stopped in the middle. Her footsteps pausing where she saw both the human girl as well as the black witch, Gillum were caught by the guards of the village.
“Tell us who else do you have here along with you?” asked one of the village men who had tied the witch up and also the girl as she shook her head trying to deliver something from her mouth which barely passed through her lips.
When the witcher’s eyes met Bathsheba’s, she didn’t blink away but continued to stare at him to hear him say, “It’s just me,” black witches were often known to sell their own kind which was why it was easy to spot and find the others who loved in the same vicinity.
“Burn this person! Burn the girl along!” said the other man and the girl looked in horror.
“Papa, please!” she pleaded crying out to the older man but the man refused to even acknowledge her presence.
Bathsheba tched under her breath, how shameful for the man to know that his very daughter was involved with the witch, “I didn’t know!” of course. How would the girl know, she thought to herself. Humans dived and dipped in the matter of love so deep that they refused to understand the logic of how things ran.
It was to the point where they turned blind but everyone turned bind at one certain point in their lives.
“I did not know. I didn’t know anything about him!” the girl continued to plead her father who continued to ignore her. Bathsheba caught the look of hurt that crossed over the black witch, Gillum for what his love interest had to say. The girl who adored him four days ago now refused to accept that she shared the same feelings as him. At this point even if the witcher wanted to save her using all his might, his very belief in the word of love evaporated. Maybe if the girl had shown a little more courage things could have turned. Not positively sure but in a sense of maybe but who had so much of time.
Both the witcher and the human girl were burnt with the witness of the villagers and some of the passerby’s.
This, in turn, brought light to the matter which was brought in a few days ago by councilman Damien and the girl who he had bought along with him. White witch.
The chances of longevity in white witches were more than with black witches when it came to being in a relationship. But then did it matter? Sooner or later, everything led to the path of death. The most famous example was the death of Damien’s aunt. The great white witch who was considered to surpass the previous laurels of the other white witch but death struck her with no mercy. It was always good to be hidden and to live a path of solitude. At least that guaranteed some kind of increase in the years the witches lived.
Bathsheba didn’t find joy like the humans to see the girl and Gillum die in front of her eyes. As much as she was a black witch, there was a part of her that was compassionate which was what set her apart from the rest of her kind.
Going back to her home, she caught the movement from the corner of her eyes. Catching to see the man who had started to fall her again. Damien was right. People like him always returned back with much more preparation as their doubt never faded away. Witch hunters were really troublesome.
Walking with the same space as she did as if she were not affected. she had other things to do than pay heed to him. With the wonderful acting of Penelope, she doubted she would have to worry about him but this one was a pest. Opening the lock of the door, she stepped inside and locked it. Keeping her ear close to the door to hear if someone was walking by the door or had stepped forward.
Hearing nothing out there, she went to place the things she had bought from the local market. Thinking back on what just happened, her mind almost unaffected by it, her thoughts shifted to the black witch and the white witch couple.
Penelope’s parents. With the air clear on who her parents were, the next question that arose was why and what happened to her father. White witches weren’t suicidal- if they died there was a reason behind it. Because there was always a reason.
And why did the black witch resurrect herself if it was possible unless she wasn’t dead to begin with. It appeared like a wonderful mystery on what might have happened but at the same time, she wondered…wondering what was their story. If they had fallen in love or had someone betrayed another. With the number of possibilities, Bathsheba’s mouth watered at the thought of it.
At the same time, Bathsheba heard a knock on the main door stilling her thoughts.
Was it the witch hunter? the black witch couldn’t say but if it was, it seemed like he was trying to press his nose where it didn’t belong. It wasn’t the first time a witch hunter had tried to tail her. She wondered if she should cut that nose of his, maybe then it would stop bothering her.
