“Let me drop you to the next village. It would be wrong to not offer you help and leave you stranded until the next carriage appears,” the young man offered her but the black witch was having her doubts with him insisting her. Stepping down from the carriage, he walked around the horses and Bathsheba took two steps behind to see the man walk towards the door of the carriage and open it, “I am sure you will enjoy the company,” he smiled at her with the door opening. His own appearance changed to one like the black witcher. His eyes turning to slits and his face transforming the smooth complex to one that looked like a draughted land, skin that was dry and broken.
She took another step behind her and at the same time, she heard the rustle of leaves behind her to find the two of the witch hunters who had been chasing her earlier with the woman.
“Come join us,” the young man said to her, keeping the door of the carriage open and when she didn’t get in, she saw a child’s feet hanging as if a child was seated in there.
She could see the frock along with the dress. Had the black witcher kidnapped a little girl without the parents’ knowledge? But that wasn’t the case. In less than ten seconds, the little girl stepped down from the seat. Stepping outside the carriage with the help of the black witcher who gave her his hand when she was going to get down.
The girl stepping down stared up at her. She looked no more than a child above five or six years of age. What was going on? Bathsheba couldn’t tell with the two witch hunters behind her and the black witcher who stood right in front of her with the small girl.
“Let me pass through,” said Bathsheba, not wanting to cause any trouble and not wanting trouble from them.
“Join us in the carriage. Come with us,” said the coachman, snickering in the end at her confused face. Seeing the witch hunters who did nothing but stand behind her, she could only conclude that both these people were working together and the black witcher in front of her would be left unharmed.
The little girl then spoke, her voice sweet and almost kind when Bathsheba failed to respond back to the black witchers offer, “She won’t. She’s from another land. Kill her,” said the small girl with little to no remorse.
Bathsheba stumbled away from them, her back turning and trying to escape them after muttering some spells but that didn’t help.
“But Ms. Judith-”
“Lady Sabbi has no place for people with second thoughts. Shoot her unless you want me to report how incapable you are in your job,” the little girl smiled, a smile that resembled as if she belonged to Satan’s daughter, “We don’t travel every day back and forth through these roads for fun. It is to kill the weak and strong and keep only the ones who can offer their loyalty. Go on,” she said softly.
The coachman pulled the knife from his shoe, throwing it right at the black witch’s leg that made her stagger and fall on the road when he threw two more at her legs and back.
The witch hunters came forward with the other two, watching the woman crawl on the ground as she tried to get away from them.
“Why didn’t you kill her directly?” one of the witch hunters asked, drawing the arrow which was on their back.
The little girl smiled down looking at her fellow black witch as her appearance changed. From the sweet girl she started to transform into a version of a black witch, “Because we black witches like torturing others,” said the black witcher.
The witch hunter raised his hand before running the arrow right into Bathsheba’s body where her heart laid in her chest.
Bathsheba cried in the pain of the silver piercing through her skin and body. The more the hunter pushed the arrows, the closer it reached her heart, her eyes turning dim as she realized she wasn’t going to live anymore. She was going to cease and before she could think anymore, her body started to crumble into dust, one cell in her body to another like a chain reaction that had started. She raised her hand as if reaching for something or someone.
Tears formed in her eyes and when her heart raised up the rest of her body caught up and left behind nothing but the clothes that she had been wearing.
“Clean this up,” the little girl said, turning her back and getting back inside the carriage as they had more rounds to take to see if they could find other witches here.
The hunters picked up the clothes and went back inside the forest, trailing back to where they had come from.
In one of the nearest villages of the forest, the woman named Mila got back to the building which had been abandoned by one of the family. The locals called it the ghost house and because of the fear, the humans never came near it which had turned to a place where the witches and others came down to meet.
Stepping inside the large house which was broken with no windows and that had acc.u.mulated dust, she saw the man who ran and handled the witch hunters group in the land of Mythweald. Diskenth.
“You are late,” the man said letting go of the witch whom he had been kissing. Mila stared at the witch who smiled at her coyly before walking away from them so that they could speak.
“I met a witch.”
“Where is she?” asked the man named Diskenth, his long blonde hair combed behind which looked dirty and unwashed for days. His eyes moved behind her to see no one there.
“She escaped. She’s being hunted at the moment, shouldn’t be too long before she is dead,” Mila reported him and then walked away from the man. She didn’t know why Master Creed had assigned him when all he did was manwhore with the black witches. His attitude towards the work they did irk her and she knew it was only time when she would replace him and teach him his place.
She was about to take her seat near the dirty and dusty staircase when there was a series of murmur at the entrance.
A young girl entered the house, her dress clean and her blonde hair which was tied. Her bright blue eyes staring at the people who were in the house.
