Bathsheba stared at the white witch who told the way her mother had died. The black witch had been living in the vicinity for twelve years now, keeping herself low while also mingling with people for small talks without spending much time outside. Due to her disfigured face, the woman usually kept one side of her face hidden which had melted twelve years ago, caused by one of her fellow sisters.
The black witch had turned out to be the odd duck out of the whole lot where she didn’t want to take part in the grand plan of taking over the lands and the races of this world. After the refusal, one of her sisters had thrown the potion which was being made that had left half of her face melted which was why she stepped out of her house only after covering her face. There were times where she had to use the spells to leave a few of them who had seen her perfectly normal face, which in reality was only a mirage of a truthful lie.
None of the villages took an outsider, as the outsiders were often the ones to bring ill will, who came in the disguise of being humans when they were actually witches. Keeping low in the village wasn’t helpful as those were the people who were often targeted by the village or town folk. If one had to live with humans, they had to learn the ways of the human to avoid any suspicion.
After she had left her sisters behind which hadn’t gone well, she had started to live here but men were often attracted to her camouflaged body and the way she appeared which people found to be enticing.
She had come across many white witches and if needed she could set them up but the black witch often set only her other closer sisters who were the black witches.
She looked at Penny who iterated about her dead mother which was very confusing, “Are you talking about the other mother of yours?”
“What?” Penny frowned at what Bathsheba had to say. Another mother? She had only one mother unless the woman whom she had known all these years was not her mother but someone else, “I don’t understand. Could you please explain?”
“You said your mother passed away due to illness. Did you see her die?” asked the black witch that turned Penny’s heart to be unsettled now.
“I have known only one mother for a very long time. She’s the one who brought me up since I was a little girl. She died right in front of my eyes because of the illness and I saw her die,” answered Penelope, giving the needed insight to clear the doubt this black witch had at the moment.
Damien who was listening to them spoke to Bathsheba, “What makes you think Penelope has had two mothers?” he questioned, his own curiosity piquing up.
Bathsheba let go of Penny’s hand which she had picked and left to only pick it up again to make sure her readings were right, “The blood that I drew from her was to locate her family. It is one of the easiest methods as they are related by blood. Then with her, having spent years, there should be a relationship that has not taken place. Sometimes attachment is enough which serves the purpose of the indirect relationship that is formed. The problem here is that I do not find another relation apart from this one lady who must be here mother that is if the woman who Penny claimed to have fallen ill was the very same person.”
“And you’re saying she’s alive?” asked Damien while Penny was still trying to reel in what the black witch just said to her.
“That can’t be possible,” Penny said staring at the crystal ball which was swirling back and forth with the smokey grey and blue inside it. Damien took hold of her hand which had been pierced to place his handkerchief on it, letting her fingers curl around the little cloth, “Thank you,” she murmured at Damien’s gesture to say, “You just said that my father who never returned back to us was dead but the mother I know who knew him has passed away. I saw her buried and if I were an adopted child I would have known.”
“Then it is possible that your mother that you so speak fondly of is still alive.” The black witch looked confident with what she to relay to Penelope.
“That is not possible.”
“Why don’t you go check?” Bathsheba smiled as if the little confusion fed her as entertainment right now.
‘Check?’ Thought Penny to herself.
There was only one way to know if what this witch was saying was true or she was only swindling lies for her amus.e.m.e.nt, which right now she doubted was the reason. She had seen her mother suffer with every day that had passed by in the number of painful hours and the lack of help that people refused to give them. She had seen the pain, her mother’s cough keeping her up as she spouted to blood through her mouth. In the end, she had seen her beloved mother be descended down the ground that had been buried for her before the headstone was placed.
With Penny’s mood that had soured while also having hope which was confusing to think that her mother was alive, she couldn’t stop thinking of wondering to herself what was going on.
Damien looked at Penny and then said, “Now that you both have met each other. Do you think you can help her, Bathsheba?”
“Help lies where help is needed. If the girl is willing to trust in my ability I am in for it. What do you think, white witch?” asked the woman.
Even though this black witch might have not set up the white witches to their deaths, Penny could somewhere feel the resistance that came from the woman at what she was…
