The taste of metal erupted on the girl’s lips as her arms extended in front of her to stop her from colliding with the cold and wet pavement. Her head rang for a second, then she felt a breeze brush against her head and arms and heard the footsteps of someone short rush past her. Voices filled with heat and venom reacted in response, culminating in a thud drowned by drunk laughter. The girl turned and saw her younger sister on the ground, her body only moving with every kick received from the three men towering above her. An explosion in her chest filled the girl with energy and she pushed herself to her feet, her eyes burning with a flame that demanded death. She threw herself at the man in the center, but his body was not unlike the doors she had sometimes been hit by in the past. With a hand almost the size of her head, he peeled her off, his fingers digging into the space between her neck and shoulder, then drew more blood with the back of the other. The girl stumbled back, but this time, she did not fall. The man had been talking this entire time, but her ears only registered a buzz that was making her brain itch.

  Her opponent’s face contorted with a combination of displeasure and annoyance, likely triggered by her still standing, then he stepped over her sister towards her. A storm of emotions and sensations raged inside her, preventing her mind from forming any coherent thought, with the exception for one: saving her sister. The man and his companions were an obstacle, so she needed to remove them first. Normally, she would use her wits to accomplish such a goal, but in this moment, despite her being still a child and having sustained a few injuries, her body felt like that of a beast, every part of it screaming with a thirst for blood. She embraced the creature without hesitation, willing to even give up her soul for the remainder of her family. Instantly, shadows wrapped around the man, who almost dropped to the ground in his struggle, but was lifted up in the air before he would. The shadows began twisting and nothing but agony filled the street. The other two men froze for a moment, then lunged at the girl, but they too suffered the same fate as their companion.

  Upon seeing the three adults struggle like flies in a spider’s web, the storm within broke, leaving the girl only with an egg of rage, which gradually peeled until it broke and released a yolk that tasted of nothing but pleasure. She wanted to scream and laugh at the same time, but the beast told her that the best part was yet to come, so she wrapped herself around the madness and watched as the shadows kept twisting, crushing bones and tearing flesh. Once the last tug occurred and the men exploded into a shower of crimson and black, a shiver rocked her body, leading to her feeling as if something was continuously being expunged. When the sensation ended, her knees gave out and she could no longer register anything below the neck, wondering if her spirit was slowly shedding its mortal coil. Her vision was fading to darkness, but she still noticed the group arriving at the scene – all male, all clad in feather white and sunlight gold. One of them made his way to her, drew an ornate sword from his waist and as its guard flashed from the left, nothingness consumed the world.

  Eventually, the void gave way to a blackness that she recognised from the corners and holes she and her sister had been forced to take shelter in since the passing of their parents. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, then took a look of her surroundings and discovered that she was in a small room devoid of anything but the wooden bed underneath her and a door with a barred window on the opposite end, beyond which a light was casting shadows on a wall. Sitting up. the left side of her head pulsed with pain, causing her to wince. Reaching up to check, her hand came into contact with something that reminded her of dry mud, plastering her hair to her face. She stared at her fingers, but the room was too dark to see if anything had rubbed off on them. Despite the lead in her head and the gelatin her bones had turned into, she managed to rise to her feet, her hands planted onto the cool wall the entire time. One step at the time, she walked to the door and learnt that it was made of metal, a drawing that she had difficulty making out in its entirety adorning the space below the window. Tracing it with her fingers revealed that it was comprised of writing and shapes that made no sense to the girl.

  As she was contemplating pushing herself up using the bars to catch a glimpse of the outside, footsteps echoed from somewhere to the left, telling her that a corridor lied behind the door. The footsteps continued until they reached her door, shades appearing at the window. A pause followed, then whispering and finally, the drawing on the door glowed golden for a few seconds before opening with a heavy groan. Two figures stepped inside, while a third remained at the door, but only one approached the girl, who had retreated closer to the back end, her heart audible in her ears. Judging from its size, the figure was a man’s, possibly a knight’s, the way he carried himself allowing for no disobedience or noncooperation. Despite her expertise as a thief and her still small body, the girl reckoned that she could never escape her confines, even if the other two figures had not been blocking the exit. The man knelt down, bringing his face to the same level as her eyes. His features were largely obscured by darkness, but she could tell that he was of middle age.

  He raised a hand towards her, but shadows wrapped themselves around it, squeezing as hard as they could. She could not see them, but she could feel them, as if they were an extension of her, akin to her hair. In addition, she detected the same bloodthirstiness from, presumably, earlier today buried at the bottom of her heart. The man did not move, only a chuckle escaping his throat, like he was taunting or mocking the shadows. The beast growled and the shadows resumed their assault with renewed vigor, but it was as if they had been sapped of strength. The power to crush full-fledged adults like grapes could not even break the man’s hand. Witnessing this, the girl wanted to break away and curl into a ball in a corner. She had been right to suspect that she was no match for him, with or without any special power. She wondered if she should apologise and explain that she was not the one controlling it. She wondered if he would even care for anything she said. While she was considering her options, the shadows loosened and the man freed his hand in a single tug, then stood up, grabbed the girl’s arm and pulled her after him.

  “No, let me go!” she protested, freeing herself and stumbling to the side. “Who are you? Where am I? Where is my sister?”

  She tried to keep her voice steady, but even she could hear the slight cracks in it. The man watched her for a moment.

  “For all that is holy, would you please take her out of there? I would like to put an end to this investigation before the midday meal,” came another masculine voice from the opened door.

  The word ‘investigation’ caught the girl’s attention, but she had no idea what it could mean.

  “Patience, Bishop,” the man closest to her replied, reminding her of avid consumers of nicotine. “You should know it’s never wise to agitate a witch.”

  His words sounded serious, but the way he uttered them made the girl think that he was laughing.

  “Oh, please! I am in no mood for your games, High Inquisitor. Bring the girl over, so we may rid ourselves of this burden as quickly as possible.”

  The one called High Inquisitor turned to her.

  “Well, you heard the pompous pig, didn’t you, girl? Come along.”

  The Bishop scoffed. Caught between wariness and fear, the girl did not move.

  “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where my sister is!”

  “Ah, I understand,” the High Inquisitor said, still laughing to the girl’s ears. “I suppose that’s fair, wouldn’t you agree, Bishop?”

  The Bishop did not answer.

  “Your sister has suffered some serious injuries and she needs her rest. She’s in the same location we are in and you will get to see her if you cooperate.”

  “Cooperate? I don’t understand.”

  “You will. And the sooner you come along, the sooner we can start our work. The sooner you can see your sister.”

  The amusement in the High Inquisitor’s tone remained present, but now there was also something else aside from it – a coolness like that of a bar of metal. He might have been running out of patience as well. With her heart racing, the girl clutched her clothes and followed. Out of the room, the High Inquisitor took something from the third man, then addressed the girl.

  “Before we can leave, put this on.”

  He handed her a white fabric with golden engravings, their style not unlike the one on the door. Judging from how it felt to the touch, the girl reckoned the fabric was cotton and the craftsmanship above average. She turned it in her hand and noticed a hole on the bottom half.

  “It’s a mask,” the High Inquisitor explained, his tone even this time around. “You must wear it.”

  After a moment of hesitation, the girl pulled the mask on her head, the hole lining up with her nose and mouth. Light was still pouring through and she heard shuffling and the door close before the mask suddenly began tightening around her head, molding over her ears and eyes, filling the former and forcing the latter shut. A sense of panic filled her chest as she could no longer hear and see anything, her throat squeezing too hard for her to breathe properly. As her knees were about to go numb, she felt a hand on her shoulder, pushing her forward. One step in front of the other, she let her be guided by the hand, slowly becoming accustomed to partially being deprived of her senses. The High Inquisitor, for she suspected the hand was his, had made her feel uneasy the entire time, but right now, his presence was almost reassuring. Soon, she was able to calm down enough for her thoughts to turn to her sister and what the men were expecting her to do. Whatever they wanted, she decided to do her best to satisfy them, as she hated being apart from her sister without even knowing how exactly she was doing.

  After many twists and turns, another hand appeared on her other shoulder, holding her in place. Then, the mark was lifted and she blinked the moment light touched her eyes again. As her vision adjusted, she discovered she was now in front of a door made of wood. The High Inquisitor pushed it open and gestured for her to enter. She complied, finding herself in a bright room, twice the size of the one she had awakened in. In the middle, there was a table and a few chairs and across from her, on the opposite wall, there was a statue of a robed woman, holding her hands at her chest, flanked by numerous candles. It was one of the many depictions of the Holy Maiden of Spring, a figure of legend the church of this world believed to have been the creator of all life.

  “Take a seat,” the High Inquisitor instructed the girl, indicating a lone chair on the right side of the table. She did as she was told, clasping her hands together. He and the Bishop moved past the table, to the statue, where brought their hands together before placing them together on their raised foreheads. They remained still for a minute or two before returning to the table and sitting across from the girl.

  “Now, then,” the High Inquisitor started, his companion looking as disinterested as his words had suggested earlier. “Do you remember what happened with those three men? In the street?”

  The girl frowned as she pulled at her memories.

  “They…attacked me and my sister. I tried to protect her and she tried to protect me.”

  “Right. Why did the men attack you? People don’t normally attack one another out of nowhere.”

  “Uh…I think my sister might have upset one of them. She accidentally ran into him.”

  “How did she come to do that?”

  “I…don’t really know. I remember her saying she saw something, then she chased after it, but I don’t know what that was.”

  “And while chasing that something, she what? Collided with one of the men? And then he retaliated?”

  The girl nodded.

  “Yes, he hit her and I intervened. Then he hit me and she intervened. Then all three of them started hitting her.”

  “I see. Well, it’s true some people will, let’s say, lose control of their tempers even from a mere accident, but when we brought you and your sister here, we found a pouch of coins on her person. Was this something she had on herself before she began her chase?”

  Cold sweat ran down the girl’s back.

  “I…I’m not sure. Usually, she doesn’t carry anything on her person. I’m used to that, so I never check. Plus, she’s my sister; I trust her.”

  The girl hoped the pouch did not mean what she thought it did, but it would nonetheless be best if she could cause the High Inquisitor to change the subject altogether.

  “Hmm,” the man considered her words, stroking his beard, then gave her a smile that did not reach his eyes. “How nice! To have such a strong bond – what a blessing! However…”

  The smile vanished. The girl’s breath caught in her throat.

  “If it’s proven that your sister, in fact, stole that man’s money, well…Do you know what the punishment for thievery is?”

  She could almost hear her neck creaking as she shook it. The High Inquisitor raised his hand, pointing to his fingers with the other. There was a twinkle in his eyes.

  “Depending on the gravity of the theft, a number of fingers is removed. For, let’s say, a mere apple, only a finger would suffice. For a family heirloom, anywhere between three and five, relative to the item stolen. Now, for money, the punishment is not usually too severe, but it is important to take into account the amount and the owner. It just so happens that the pouch on your sister was given to the man by his father for his day of birth. There are quite a few gold coins inside. Moreover, the man was nobility, his father a member of the city’s administrative council. I’m sure you can imagine that stealing from a peasant is not the same as stealing from a noble.”

  The girl’s head had started swimming.

  “But…my sister wouldn’t…I mean, she’s never stolen before.”

  “Not that you know of, anyway,” the man replied as if remarking that the room is lit.

  Her core heated up as her mind struggled to think of something to say.

  “In any case,” he continued before she could do so. “Let’s move on, shall we? Once the three men started hitting your sister, what happened?”

  “I don’t…know…”

  “But do you remember?”

  The girl recognised the question as an opportunity.

  “Uh…My head is…foggy. I think…the men rose into the air all of a sudden? Then they fell to the ground…”

  “Did you see anything besides that? Anything else strange?”

  “Um, n-no…I don’t…think there was anything else.”

  The girl’s fists were white from clenching them.

  The High Inquisitor was about to speak, but then paused, before turning to the Bishop next to him. The two whispered for a few minutes, the latter visibly displeased that he was still present at what the girl could only surmise to be a questioning. She strained her ears, but she could only catch some of the words exchanged – ‘witch’, ‘magic’ and ‘invisible’ among them. When the High Inquisitor finally returned his attention to her, she pretended to be preoccupied by the fingers in her lap.

  “Alright, we’re almost done here,” he announced to the girl’s surprise, who could not have been in this room for more than 15 minutes. “However, before we can conclude, protocol dictates that we ask about some of your personal information as a citizen. I suggest you comply because obstructing the identification process is against the law.”

  “I will,” she replied, nodding, her chest deflating for the first time since she had entered the room.

  What followed was a series of questions regarding the girl herself and her family – her place of birth, where her parents were, whether she had any other siblings and so on – which she did her best to answer in a way that would not cause any trouble for herself and her sister. Not that there was much information to give away to begin with, since the two had only known the streets for most of their lives. Her sister could not even remember the faces of their parents. Once the men were satisfied, the third one, who had been waiting outside the entire time, took her back to her original room, her vision and hearing obscured again. The moment he was far enough from the door, she tried the handle out of curiosity, but it was expectedly locked. She had indeed heard a jingle before the man walked away and the drawing on the door had flashed as well. For the first time today, it dawned on her that she was most likely in a prison. Her body trembled at the thought, but she willed herself to relax, for she did not give anybody any reason to suspect her of any crime. Nevertheless, that night, her sleep was constantly interrupted by a ball of anxiety in the pit of her stomach, as well as the hard bed of the cell.

  The following day began not unlike most of her days up until then had, the fact that she could not go and procure food being the only significant difference. Confined to her dark room, she spent her time stretching and keeping her body active. After she became tired enough, she tried to get more sleep, but was soon awakened by shuffling behind her door. The Bishop, the High Inquisitor and presumably the jailer had returned. Much like the day before, they took her to the room with the statue, where she was asked the same questions again. She felt confused the entire time, but she answered nonetheless, her replies almost identical to the ones before. When they were done with her, she was brought back to her cell. This time, food had been left for her while she had been away. The meal was simple, but her growling and shrinking stomach did not care. She devoured everything like she had not eaten in a week, the thought of having unclean hands bothering her only slightly, although she did her best to not grab the food with her whole hand all the way through. She then ended the day with more physical exercises. Her sleep turned out to be less painful than the previous night, but a stiffness had still begun settling in her bones. She was under the impression her body was growing colder too.

  On the third day, she awoke to stings in her joints and head, her entire body feeling like lead and gelatin at the same time. Her throat felt like it was being scratched from the inside out. Unable to let anybody know immediately, she endured until the door opened again, her chest becoming like an oven while waiting, her clothes sticking to her in every place. Once she told the men what was happening, she was brought to the same room, but she was made to just wait some more, instead of being questioned. After what felt like an eternity later, a woman dressed in a black robe opened the door and started asking the girl about the condition of her body. The girl answered as accurately as she could – about how she had been sleeping, what she had been doing and so on – and the woman concluded she had merely caught a cold. Nevertheless, she advised the girl to take care of herself by drinking tea with honey, keeping warm and resting in bed. The girl was about to tell her that what she could and could not do was largely out of her hands, but the woman assured her that she would relay the information to the High Inquisitor and the jailer as well. She then left and the same two men entered, their expressions sour.

  They questioned her the same way they had up until then and while the girl knew how to reply, her fever and sore throat were making it difficult to do so. In fact, in a brief moment of losing herself to the illness, she let slip that, growing up, her sister had not been in the habit of roaming the streets and that she had only recently become interested in learning about the city. The High Inquisitor must have considered this information valuable, for his visage lit up ever so slightly and the tone of his voice gained a tinge of warmth. The ball in the girl’s stomach instantly grew larger and she cursed herself for her mistake. Her body shook at what the man would do with the information. She had half a mind to beg for her sister’s life, but she reckoned that that might do more harm than good, so she ultimately elected to pretend the detail was not important. After all, there was nothing incriminating about it. When the questioning ended, she was told to remain in the room as the two men were leaving. At least an hour must have passed before the jailer came into the room and announced that she could return to her cell.

  Her senses were obstructed as usual, but when she arrived, she was greeted with a sight that was different from what she had been getting used to. Her bed now had a mattress, a pillow and a blanket, her pot had been cleaned and a steaming meal had been placed on a small table that had not been present before, two mugs next to it. The girl’s heart almost stopped when she saw the changes and she looked at the jailer with eyes the size of marbles, unable to utter even a word. The man’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly at her reaction, then a frown formed on his brow and his lips parted, but then closed almost immediately. The frown smoothed into an expression of acceptance, perhaps even sympathetic joy. He explained that the High Inquisitor had instructed him to improve her living conditions so that she could recover from her sickness as soon as possible. She reckoned his kindness was more pragmatic than the jailer would admit. The investigation must have been more important than the Bishop’s attitude made it seem. That, or the woman who had examined her had had a hand in it.

  The girl thanked the jailer and asked him to pass on her thanks to the High Inquisitor as well, then stepped inside the cell and ate the food, occasionally taking sips from the mugs, which were filled with honeyed tea, until everything was finished. She arranged the spoon, the bowl and the mugs at the side of the table, then sat on her bed, her thoughts drifting to the day’s events. She truly appreciated her new conditions, but remained wary of the High Inquisitor and anybody associated with the church. It was because of them that she still knew nothing about her sister’s situation. She was in the process of resigning herself to being locked away for the foreseeable future or even executed, but she was determined to ensure her sister’s safety before her fate would be sealed. She had stumbled today, but if she could keep herself in check from tomorrow onwards, perhaps there was even a chance for the two of them to reunite eventually. With hope still burning in her heart, the girl lied down and wrapped herself up in the blanket, her skin tingling at the softness of both. Although her throat had eased slightly after she drank the tea, her head was still burning up, so she wanted to heed the woman’s advice and rest. As she drifted off into the realm of dreams, she thought that it was a shame she had to go to sleep with her unwashed clothes and body on a bed as luxurious as this one.

  Despite the improved food and bed, the girl was awakened in the middle of the night by the sensation that she was being cooked alive. She threw off the blanket and her arm’s joints protested as if it were broken, forcing her to inhale more air, which caused her throat to retaliate as well. Hissing, she turned on her side and brought a hand to her forehead. The former was as if it had been wrapped in ice, while the latter felt like tea could be boiled on it. The girl groaned, but did not remove her hand. In a matter of minutes, shivers began rising from her feet to her head. She pulled the blanket back on herself, but as sweat started forming on her chest, she let the chill of the cell embrace her once more. For the rest of the night, she would continue to toss and turn, constantly shifting between hot and cold. Naturally, sleep did not return, her torment lasting until the usual three men came to collect her. Seeing the state she was in, they allowed her to stay in bed. Later, the same woman in black visited her and explained that it was normal for illnesses to get worse before they got better. Nevertheless, at her suggestion, the girl’s meal was this time accompanied by liquid medicine, which she was instructed to drink last.

  She did exactly so, then went straight to bed, her sleep significantly more peaceful than the previous night. Even so, the sickness did not abate, but it did not become worse either. The fifth day was largely a repeat of the fourth, the only difference being the girl’s impulse to ask the woman about her sister. Her mind deemed doing so pointless – if not outright foolish, for giving the High Inquisitor a reason to push her even further for information – but her eyes were filled with a pleading that did not go unnoticed by the woman upon getting ready to leave. The girl could not see how she bit her lip as she turned her back to the child. With both relief and sorrow in her heart, the girl slept unperturbed until well past dawn. The sixth day greeted her with a subsided fever and sore throat. As a result, she was finally taken again to the room with the statue, where instead of posing the same questions, the High Inquisitor shifted his focus to the girl’s sister.

  “Since you’re older, I assume you’ve had to raise her yourself. Am I correct?”

  She nodded in response.

  “What was that experience like for you?”

  Her head was still swimming from her illness, making it difficult to curate her answers.

  “Uh, I don’t know…Like you said, I was on my own, so I didn’t think too much about it. I just did it, because my sister couldn’t afford for me to be indecisive or overthink what was already obvious to me.”

  “Then, could you say that she has been relying on you as a result of that stoicism that you have demonstrated?”

  “Well, it wasn’t like she could suddenly take care of herself. She needed me, just as I needed to be there for her.”

  “And how did that dynamic make her feel?”

  The girl shrugged.

  “We never talked about it. I guess she was always grateful, or maybe relieved, but we’re family – it’s natural that I’d help and teach her as much as I can.”

  “Did she ever want to learn something you weren’t willing to teach?”

  “Maybe, but I don’t recall anything specific. She knew it was best to listen to me.”

  “I see. Let’s switch topics for a bit. How did you provide for both of you? What did you do to be able to ensure that both of you would keep living?”

  The girl gulped, having known that this question would appear sooner or later.

  “Um…There isn’t much someone my age can really do. I roamed the city, looking for places we can sleep, discarded food we can eat and so on. Sometimes I found items I was able to pawn or trade.”

  “Found, not taken?”

  There was a delight on the High Inquisitor’s brow that made her skin crawl.

  “Found,” she repeated herself, hoping her tone had been even.

  “Mmm. Alright. Then, have you ever had trouble while…roaming? Maybe something akin to what happened with that nobleman?”

  She shook her head.

  “People have yelled at me or cursed me, but nobody has stopped to hit me.”

  “Right, I understand. And while you were out, what would your sister do?”

  “Uh, she…she would be waiting for me to return? I would give her assignments from time to time – to read, to write. Not much else besides that.”

  “No wonder she grew interested in the city, if that’s the case. You never took her with you?”

  “No, she was safer where I would leave her, away from everybody. Besides, we would often be on the move, so I say she got to see plenty of the city.”

  “Hmm. Maybe so. Very well, that’s all I wanted to ask for today. Wait her until you get called.”

  The girl did as she was told and only a few minutes passed before she was beckoned by the jailer. At the door, the woman in black was waiting for her – Sister, as the High Inquisitor had called her on occasion. She would be taking the girl somewhere else, but she still needed to have her ears and eyes covered. The girl complied and when she could see again, she found out that she had been taken to a bath. More specifically, she was in a room only slightly larger than her cell with a hole in the ground, lined with stonework. Steam was rising from the water inside. To the side were a few buckets filled with water as well, a large mirror and bowls that contained liquids the girl had never seen before.

  “Do you need help washing?” the woman asked.

  “Ah, uh…no, I think I should be fine…”

  The girl wondered if she should let a second chance like this pass her by, but the ball of anxiety had turned her stomach upside down during her time with the High Inquisitor and the Bishop. Perhaps her reply had then been determined by her self-preservation instinct.

  “You don’t sound so sure,” the woman remarked. “Are you worried about something?”

  “I…”

  Her heart was screaming at the girl to ask for help, but her brain had it in a chokehold. As the turmoil raged inside her, the woman pulled her into her bosom and whispered into her ear: “Are you worried about your sister?”

  The girl gasped and her body trembled, her heart accelerating immediately. Before she could even think about pulling away, the woman wrapped her arms against the girl’s back, her lips letting out a shhh that almost reminded the child of her mother.

  “It’s alright,” the woman continued whispering. “You’ve got nothing to fear from me, I promise. I want to help you if I can.”

  “Huh?”

  The girl could not believe her ears. At the same time, a knock came from the door.

  “Sister, are you done?”

  “Give me a minute,” the woman told the girl, then exited the bath.

  The girl remained motionless, her mind too scrambled to command the body. When the woman returned, a sense of relief spread through the girl’s body, the ball shrinking slightly.

  “Alright, we should be good for now. He’s gonna leave us alone, but we should keep our voices down.”

  The girl was watching her as if she had descended from the heavens. Sister noticed and chuckled.

  “Come on, I’ll help you out.”

  She led the child to the buckets of water and instructed her to remove her clothes. The girl hesitated, her cheeks flushed.

  “I know it might be embarrassing, but you and I are the same,” the woman assured the girl, gesturing at her entire figure. The girl eyed Sister’s inflated chest and doubted they truly had that much in common. Nevertheless, the thought that they were indeed both female gave her enough courage to undress. With an almost imperceptible nod, the woman did so as well. Seeing her bare body brought the redness back to the girl’s cheeks. She had heard faithful say that the Holy Maiden of Spring had been beautiful beyond measure, but the paintings and the statues she had come across made her pale in comparison to the adult before her. If the church were to learn her thoughts, she would surely be punished with zeal. Nevertheless, she did not care about the blasphemy she was committing, for she knew she was faced with a beauty the likes of which she would never encounter again. In fact, she had become so mesmerised that she only noticed the bandage wrapped around Sister’s left arm once the latter had rejoined her after putting away their clothes.

  “What happened to you?” the girl blurted out on instinct, pointing at the bandage.

  “Ah, don’t worry about it. I have a…condition, which I prefer to conceal from people. It’s nothing dangerous to me or to anybody else, but it would invite questions. I don’t feel like providing an explanation.”

  The child resigned herself, but her curiosity only waned, not vanished.

  “Close your eyes,” the woman told her after placing her in front of the mirror. “Stand still.”

  With anticipation in her heart, the girl became conscious of the weakness in her body, even after days of treatment. As she wondered how long it would take her to fully recover, she was hit with a warm liquid from head to toe, her muscles contracting instantly. A yelp louder than she liked escaped her lips. Opening her eyes, she saw her soaked figure in the mirror. The woman was lowering an empty bucket onto the floor.

  “Good, now bend at the waist and hold that position.”

  The child brought her upper half forward, but Sister pushed her down by the shoulder, causing her torso to align almost in parallel to the floor.

  “There you go,” the adult announced with satisfaction. “I’m just going to wash your hair.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, the girl saw the woman grab one of the bowls and scoop what turned out to be a viscous substance into her other hand. In a moment, the substance came into contact with the girl’s hair, slightly cool to the touch. The woman scrubbed the scalp and the hair multiple times in a row, then rinsed everything with half of another bucket. Then, she guided the girl to stand upright again and gathered her hair onto her shoulder, squeezing it in the process. Once done, she picked up another bowl and brought it to the child’s face.

  “This is liquid soap. I’m gonna rub it on your skin, alright?”

  The girl nodded, her head slightly lighter.

  Sister scooped up soap with both hands and pressed them on the girl’s back, coating the entire area before moving up to her neck and shoulders. Her arms, chest and stomach followed, but when the woman’s hands moved past her belly button, her body trembled.

  “Oh, are you uncomfortable? I know this next spot is sensitive, but we should clean as much as possible.”

  “Is…Isn’t water enough?”

  The woman had to strain her ears for a moment.

  “Well, it depends,” she explained. “For the front, especially, it might, but soap was made to prevent bacteria from settling in precious places such as these on the body.”

  “What’s…bak-tea-ree-ah?”

  To the child’s surprise, Sister stifled a laugh.

  “They are tiny creatures that people cannot see that attach themselves to anything living or dead. When it comes to people, they have to be destroyed before they can grow in number and make them sick.”

  “But…I’m already sick.”

  “That’s right, and if you don’t clean properly, you might become even more sick.”

  “Wait, are bacteria like dirt? I know I’m supposed to wash my hands before eating. But I…I’m not always able to…”

  “They aren’t exactly like dirt, but they can cause problems just like dirt does.”

  “Oh, I see. It’s a bit scary to think that there’s things we cannot see that still affect us.”

  “Yeah, but it usually takes a long time for bacteria to do anything bad to you. However, you don’t want to reach that point, which is why you must clean yourself at least once a week.”

  “Once a week might be too hard for me, though…”

  The streets did not usually provide enough water for a proper washing, let alone a luxury such as soap. In addition, for someone like the girl, money and food were more important.

  “You don’t have to worry about that now,” Sister assured her, indicating the room they were in. “So, what do you say? Do you want me to clean the rest of you or would you rather do it yourself?”

  While considering her options, the girl quickly recalled how her skin had been tingling under the woman’s exposed palm and the desire for more spread to all the corners of her heart. She told herself that the adult before her had to be worthy of her trust after everything she had done for and said to her. Perhaps it was due to her being ill, but the child felt warmth, gentleness and a sense of safety coming from the woman, which she had only occasionally received from her sister since their mother’s passing. She had never blamed the sibling, for she was younger than the girl, who had always reckoned that her sister had been looking for the same emotions from her, but the girl could not deny that she had been starved of everything she was receiving at the moment. As a result, something inside her was drawn to Sister.

  “No, I’m fine. You can do it…I mean, I would be grateful if you did. Just…please use only your right hand.”

  Sister glanced at her bandaged arm, then smiled.

  “Got it. If you change your mind, let me know.”

  The woman reapplied the soap and scrubbed the rest of the girl’s body, from bellow the waist to the very tips of her toes. She then dumped an entire bucket on her and announced that the child was finally ready to soak in the bath. After also cleaning herself, the adult joined the girl, exhaling in a way that the latter did not understand. Not that she could ponder it too deeply, for she was feeling as if the water was lulling through her, transforming her into a feather or a ghost ready to ascend to the heavens. Her eyelids were growing heavier, but she fought against the sleep that was pulling her into its embrace. Despite her efforts, she was not victorious and she was thus plunged into a darkness that she ultimately welcomed. After what she perceived as an eternity later, she was jostled awake by Sister.

  “Hey, be careful! You almost drowned.” she admonished her.

  “Huh?” the child asked in a daze. “What happened?”

  She blinked and almost jumped out of the bath when she realised how close the woman was.

  “You fell asleep and dropped face-first into the water,” Sister explained.

  The girl could not feel water in her throat or lungs, which meant the lady before her had acted promptly.

  “Ah, I’m sorry,” she said, not knowing if she should be apologising or not. “Thank you for taking care of me, Miss. Not just now, but ever since I got sick. I’m really grateful for

  everything you’ve done for me.”

  “Aw, come now. It’s my job to treat people, y’know? By the way, how about you lean on me? That way, you won’t drown whether awake or asleep.”

  “…Is that alright?”

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  “Yeah, of course! Here, I’ll sit next to you.”

  The woman brought her body next to the girl’s and the latter placed her head between the former’s neck and shoulder. A bandaged hand held her by the shoulder.

  “Sorry, I can’t remove it,” was its owner’s excuse.

  “It’s not a problem. It’s not rubbing me and my shoulder isn’t that sensitive, anyway. Does it not bother you, though?”

  She remembered the times she had got soaked before and how unpleasant the heavier, wet clothes had been on her.

  “It’s a bit annoying, I admit, but at least the bandage itself isn’t getting soggy. You see, this material is not typical cotton, but something more special. It’s able to absorb water without losing all of its hardness, kind of like a sponge. The downside is that its coarser to the touch, as you have clearly experienced yourself.”

  “Ah, I understand. Is it a holy relic?”

  The child had heard that holy relics were special items imbued specifically with magic from the Holy Maiden of Spring. She doubted the bandage was truly one of them, but she was feeling warm chatting with Sister, so she did not want to stop. Her interlocutor laughed.

  “No chance! The Church doesn’t bless something as insignificant as this. No, this is a regular magic tool I commissioned a while ago. It was woven with enchanted thread.”

  The girl had seen numerous artisans of various calibers across the city, but she had never been able to afford anything on sale. In fact, with how preoccupied with survival she had been, she had always been left wondering what kinds of arcane items existed in the world. She would have probably been more in awe right now had the water and the adult not been mellowing her mind. She almost let sleep take her again when Sister turned to her and shattered her relaxation almost completely.

  “Listen, now’s our chance. Tell me about yourself and your sister.”

  There was a brief delay between hearing those whispers and processing them, but the girl soon straightened and revealed everything she had gone through in the past six days. When her hands started trembling, the woman held them in her own.

  “Did you kill those nobles, though?” was the first question she asked once the story was over.

  “I…I don’t know…” the girl admitted after a moment of hesitation.

  “Think carefully. You might not have wanted to kill them, but even if you did, it doesn’t matter. I believe all witches feel a certain way when they use their powers. Hmm, let me think about how to explain this…Right, you’ve been angry before, haven’t you?”

  The child nodded, unsure where the conversation was going.

  “And when those nobles were kicking and stomping on your sister – did that make you angry?”

  She furrowed her brows.

  “Of course, she’s my sister!”

  “In that moment, did you wish for the nobles’ deaths?”

  “…I guess I did. But anyone would if they saw someone do what they did to someone they loved!”

  Sister patted the girl’s shoulder.

  “That’s right, anyone would. I’m not here to blame you, I’m just trying to understand what happened. And after that? How did those men die according to you?”

  “Ugh, I really can’t make sense of it at all…It was as if the shadows themselves came alive and wrapped themselves around them. Then they just…exploded. It sounds crazy, but I swear this is what happened.”

  “It’s alright, I believe you. And how did you feel seeing all that death?”

  “I felt…”

  The child shuddered at the memory of her emotions and the adult held her closer.

  “I felt…good. I thought they deserved what they got.”

  Suddenly, through the confusion of the past and the relaxation of the present, the girl’s mind posed a question that perhaps should have been taken into account from the very start of this interaction: What if this woman was, in fact, here on behalf of the High Inquisitor and only pretending to be on my side? After all, the girl could not prove, nor disprove her claims. Faced with the possibility of a trickery, distrust was the first twisted emotion to take root in her heart, but the moment she realised her admission of guilt, it became drowned in terror. She stood up in a flash and was about to rush for the door, when she was tugged back into the bath. A scream instantly rose to her throat, but her mouth was covered before it could escape.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Are you stupid?” Sister hissed, pinning her to the bath’s wall.

  The child struggled, but when it became evident that she could not free herself, her body went limp and tears overflowed from her eyes. As the woman watched her, her expression gradually softened, but her hold on the girl did not. She brought her face close until there was only a breath between them.

  “Hey, hey! Calm down. We don’t have time for this. I’m gonna let go, but you have to promise not to do anything. Do you promise?”

  After a moment of consideration, the girl nodded. The woman removed her hands, but kept them up on both sides of her body. Tears continued to roll down the girl’s cheeks. She put her hands over her mouth to suppress the incoming sobs, her body rocking in their wake. Sister waited for them to subside, then slowly extended her hands to the child’s forearms. She gently pushed them down, not encountering much resistance.

  “You’re alright,” she whispered, not breaking eye contact. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I just want to help. Is that alright with you?”

  The adult’s words caused a new set of tears to gather at the edge of the girl’s eyes. She could no longer comprehend what was happening inside her mind and heart, her head hurting every time she tried. As a result, she let instincts take over and she found herself flung into the woman’s arms. Renewed sobs rose to her mouth, but she buried her face in Sister’s chest. The stroked the child’s back with her bare hand, holding her still with the bandaged one.

  “I’m sorry…” the girl eventually said in the quietest voice she could muster, raising her reddened eyes and cheeks to look at the woman. “I’m really worried about my sister and I…I don’t know who to trust – I don’t even know if I can trust anyone! I just…I don’t understand what’s going to happen to us and I’m scared and I don’t know what to do…”

  She covered her face with her palms, unable to utter anymore. The woman watched her for a moment before embracing her.

  “I understand. It’s a horrible situation to be in. I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

  She considered giving the girl time to unburden herself of the pain, but as she recalled where they were, she sighed internally then added: “But hey, we have to get it together quickly. I don’t think the jailer is like the High Inquisitor and the Bishop, but it would be foolish on my part to put both you and I in the hands of someone I don’t know.”

  At first, the girl did not react, but then she pushed herself away and wiped her eyes, her head moving up and down as she did.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I think…I think I’ll be okay.”

  The adult smiled and squeezed her upper arm, just below the shoulder.

  “Alright, there’s two things we have to focus on. One is finding and ideally reuniting you with your sister and the other is absolving you of your guilt. Unfortunately, many witnesses have seen your magic, even the High Inquisitor himself, so that last objective is almost impossible to achieve. Almost, but not entirely. What’s fortunate is that those fools have got so complacent in the recent years that they’ve probably forgotten that magic technically has nigh unlimited potential. In other words, there’s a chance we can attribute the death of the nobles on something entirely out of your control, like a possession by a powerful witch.”

  “Is that actually possible?” the child asked with a frown.

  “I personally believe so, but it doesn’t really matter if it is or not. What we want is for the Church to start doubting themselves. That might give us the opportunity for you and your sister to break out.”

  “Is that the only option? Can’t I be proven innocent? I mean, if I’m possessed, then it wasn’t me that killed those men.”

  Sister shook her head.

  “See, the Church don’t take any chances. Even if you’re innocent, as long as accusations exist, they can’t overlook a potential witch. It’s their ass on the line if they do.”

  “Didn’t you say they got complacent?”

  “When it comes to magic research, they did. They haven’t kept up with it in years, I’m telling you. Witches have been so few and far between that those fossils don’t bother studying their abilities anymore. They haven’t noticed that witches have got more and more dangerous. They got lucky, because their defense systems, countermeasures and what-have-you are strong enough to deal with any witch as long as she hasn’t matured enough. Think about your sickness. You were feeling quite bad in the beginning, right? But once I started taking care of you, you became better. If you hadn’t received any treatment, you would have suffered more and, really, you would still be suffering right now. It’s the same with witches. In this world, a witch is like the bacteria I mentioned.”

  “So…I make the world sick?”

  The conclusion stung the girl straight in the heart. She had never felt any love for the world, but for a reason that she could not explain at this point in time, such a rejection shook her to her very core.

  “But I don’t understand…I never asked for this! I never even wanted to be a witch or use magic in general! All I wanted was for my sister and I to survive and maybe thrive. I never hurt anyone and all the items I stole were from nobles that most likely didn’t miss them at all.”

  She was about to cry again, so Sister hugged her once more.

  “It’s been, tough, I know. But we gotta stay focused, yeah?”

  “Yeah, sorry. It’s…a lot to think about. But you’re right. So, I truly am a witch, then? I’m not saying you could be wrong, but I’ve never even seen a witch before, so I don’t—”

  “Please, you don’t have to be so uptight around me,” the woman pointed out before the girl could finish. “Based on what you said, I’d say that you are indeed a witch. There’s no time to properly explain everything, but just know that anybody casting spells without them being inscribed in a magical device and especially without a catalyst, like a wand, is labelled a witch. And I understand you never wanted to be a witch, but witches are born, not made. Also, your ancestors don’t have to be a witch for you to be one yourself. In fact, witches are determined by laws outside of the ones of nature, physics or even the arcane. Lastly, all witches are female, so you fit the bill to a T.”

  “Uh…Sorry, I…what?”

  “Ah, my bad. You match the description of a witch perfectly.”

  “I see, I guess that makes sense. But…was I chosen?”

  “Hmm, yes and no. Witches are periodically born, so in that sense, you were chosen. However, you were not chosen for who you were or who you would be in the future. In other words, witches must exist, but it doesn’t matter who those witches are as people. No witch is above another when she becomes a witch.”

  “Ugh, my head is starting to hurt. This information is too much.”

  The child rubbed her temples and Sister was about to show some sympathy when there was another knock on the door. The latter looked at the former and placed a single finger against her lips, then rose from the bath and went to open the door. The girl was amazed at the fact that the woman was not embarrassed or even afraid to show herself completely naked before a man. The jailer and her talked for a few minutes, then she returned to the girl’s side, who inquired if there was anything wrong.

  “Nah, don’t worry. He just wanted to check on us. We gotta finish soon, though.”

  “Alright, so what should I do? It sounds like whether I am a witch or not, they’re still going to find me guilty. Can I at least save my sister?”

  She did not show it, but the adult was surprised by the child’s composure at her own words. Perhaps there were no more tears for her to shed for the situation she was in.

  “Aw, c’mon, there’s no need to be all gloom. If we play our cards right, you can both escape. As for what those cards are, well…I know some people in the Church with the power to at least postpone your trial. Or execution. So, lemme talk to them. In the meantime, you take care of yourself – you’re still ill – and make sure to only give the High Inquisitor what he needs during his questionings. You can keep it vague if you like, but don’t push your luck and don’t lie, no matter what. He’s notorious for enjoying tormenting criminals, so the less you provoke him, the better. For both you and your sister.”

  “But…I’ve already pretended not to have seen the shadows that attacked the nobles and him.”

  “That’s fine, there’s nothing you can do about it now. Keep insisting on it, maybe he’s really gonna believe you were possessed when the time comes.”

  “I understand. Is there anything else I should keep in mind?”

  “No, I think that’s it for now. Do you have any questions? Keep them brief, though.”

  “Um…how do you know so much? Especially about witches.”

  The woman shrugged.

  “There’s a set amount of knowledge that anybody working for the Church must possess. Otherwise, the longer you work and the more people you come in contact with, the more you learn. I’m curious by nature, so I like to keep my ears peeled.”

  The girl looked at the side of her head.

  “Are they, truly? Doesn’t that hurt?”

  “No, that’s…that’s just a figure of speech.”

  “A what?”

  “Never mind. Stay alive, get out of here and I’ll teach you.”

  “Oh, alright. Well, I don’t think I have any more questions.”

  “Right. Then it’s about time we get outta here. I’m gonna get us some towels, you wait in the bath,” Sister instructed as she was rising out of it herself once more.

  Approaching the door, it was her who knocked this time. After a few minutes, it opened and she received two large towels and some fresh clothes for the girl, who was unsure whether she should accept them.

  “Take them,” the woman told her. “Yours were covered in sweat and blood.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  When they were dressed, Sister kept the child close as she bid her farewell: “This is it. We both know what we need to do, yeah? Be careful.”

  The girl nodded, but as the woman was about to head outside, she grabbed her hand.

  “Before you go…can you tell me your name?”

  “Mmm. You can call me Mina,” the latter replied with a smile on lips and a twinkle in her eyes.

  “Oh, that sounds pretty. My name is—”

  “Ah-ah-ah,” Mina stopped her. “You can introduce yourself when we meet again, Miss Witch. I’ll look forward to it.”

  The witch smiled back as she agreed and the two went their separate ways. Upon returning to her cell, she discovered that the sheets had been changed, along with the blanket and the pillowcase. Later, she received her meal and some more medicine and once she finished them all, she lied down, her thoughts turning to herself, her sister and, most of all, Mina. Years on the street had taught her that hope was often like a lit match on a windy day. She wanted to trust the woman, but even with her help, the most rational part of her doubted that she and her sister could escape. If it was true that the Church viewed witches as bringers of disease, they might be hunted to the ends of the world. Even if she somehow used her abilities consciously to only incriminate herself, there was no way of knowing if the Church would just let her sister go. In fact, she could end up guilty by association, especially since she would most likely try to protect her. The witch sighed and turned on her side. Before falling asleep, she wondered if it would be blasphemy in reverse if she were to pray to the Holy Maiden of Spring.

  The next day, she was almost shocked to learn from the jailer, who had brought her food earlier, that she would not be questioned. Neither was she asked for the day after, nor the day after that. At first, she felt relief at the change, but after three days, she began to worry, so she asked about her sister. The jailer only repeated what the High Inquisitor had told her when she had first met him: she would only get to see her if she cooperated. Sparks went off insider her when she heard his words, for she had been nothing but obedient the entire time. She stretched and exercised to take her mind off her frustration, then curled in the bed, waiting for her mind to grow tired enough for sleep. However, a flash snapped her out of her drifting as the door was unlocked and opened.

  “I was told you take you to the bath again,” the jailer explained. “You best come quickly, the water cannot be kept warm for long today.”

  Half-groggy, the girl climbed out of the bed, took the mask from the man and put it on herself. She had grown used to the procedure and she figured that if time was of the essence, she might as well do it herself. At the bath, she discovered she was alone, which both surprised and disappointed her, but she pushed those emotions aside and focused on reproducing the way Mina had washed her. Just as her mind turned to the woman, a thud came from behind the door, startling her. Her eyes did not even blink as she kept them in its direction, expecting it to open at any point. It took longer than she had expected, but when it finally did, it revealed Mina in its frame.

  “There you are!” she exclaimed, rushing towards the witch.

  “What’s going on?” the latter asked, not knowing what to think as her heart increased its beats. When she spotted a reddened dagger in Mina’s hand and the specks on her face, she jumped to her feet.

  “There’s no time, you have to come with me now!” the woman urged her.

  “What? Why? What’s happening?!”

  “I failed. They want to execute you as soon as possible. Your sister told them something and now they wanna execute you. We need to move before they catch us!”

  It was as if she had been thrown into a maelstrom, but the witch still managed to dress up in less than a minute. Once finished, Mina grabbed her hand and the two ran into the hallway, where the girl saw the jailer’s body slumped against the wall, his throat, clothes and even the floor underneath him covered in a black liquid. Before she could even comprehend the scene, the woman pulled her around a corner, their running echoing all around them. The witch was in a daze the entire time, only beginning to reattach herself to reality when they stopped before a set of massive doors.

  “There’s a mechanism that opens them. I’m gonna look for it. You stay here!”

  Mina vanished to the right of the gates. The girl waited, but the woman was not coming back, the doors standing before her as if petrified. As the witch was about to look for her, the thundering of footsteps poured into the room from every direction as dozens of men in armour surrounded her, their weapons drawn. With their faces hidden behind their helmets, they almost looked like how she had envisioned the armoured ghosts from a horror story she had heard a long time ago. As the circle was closing in on her, multiple thoughts formed in her head all at the same time:

  Mina is gone.

  I’m going to die.

  I need to save my sister.

  I can try my powers.

  I need to save my sister.

  Can I kill them all?

  I need to save my sister.

  I don’t know where she’s being kept.

  I’m going to die.

  I need to do something.

  I need to save my sister.

  I don’t know how to case spells.

  I’m going to die.

  I need to save my sister. I need to save her. I need to find and save her. Saver her, save her, savesavesave…

  Feeling like her brain was about to explode and her heart burst out of her chest, she put her hands on the ground as her legs gave in under her. A few blades had been raised above her, waiting to drop like a guillotine. Seeing her death in their silver, she screamed as the floodgates had been thrown open and pure malice overtook her entire being. It engulfed the entire room like a tide of the inevitable, carrying her anger at herself and the Church, the sadness at her fate and the fate of her sister and the pain of being left alone again. She cursed the world, demanding its collapse, and the world bent to her will. As her heart was gradually becoming emptier, the image of her sister put an abrupt end to the destruction around her. She blinked multiple times, as if awakening from a trance, slowly regaining her senses and control of her body. The men, the room and even part of the building itself had disappeared, like water on burning coals. In the distance, the sun was hanging low, ready to dip beyond the city’s walls. Despite staring at it, she did not notice the moment it started fading away, as if it was being eaten at by the void. Only when the light dimmed abruptly did she realise that it would never even reach the horizon.

  In a matter of minutes, the world was plunged into a darkness it had never known since its inception, the stars being the only source of light until a beam of gold erupted from one of the taller buildings, shooting straight into the sky and swirling until it created a ball at least the size of half the city. At the same time, a voice came from behind the witch.

  “S-Sis…Sis!”

  The girl spun around as she stood up, her breath catching in her throat. Illuminated by gold, a girl shorter than her was ambling towards her, her body bare and her limbs covered in red and black. The witch swallowed a gasp as she recognised the girl to be her younger sister. She was running towards the sibling she had been separated from for eight days, new tears in her eyes, when a light began building up behind her sister. Happiness and relief turned to panic as she angled her body to the side before throwing herself and pushing the girl out of the way. The projectile zoomed past them as they went down, pricking the witch’s skin and disappearing into the eternal night. Her sister yelled the moment they touched the ground. Fearing that she had been hit, the witch scrambled off her and to her side to check, but another light appeared right as she did. Her body almost jerked away, but she stopped herself and waited for the second the projectile would be shot. The moment it did, she kicked the ground, grabbed her sister and the two rolled out of its trajectory.

  Not giving her opponent time to charge another blast, she rushed in their direction and discovered the High Inquisitor and the Bishop next to a passageway that lead deeper into the prison. Her heart pumped fear into her veins, but her brain instantly reminded her of where she was and what she could do. As a result, she only hesitated for a second before tapping into the emotions that had activated her powers. She felt as if she was detaching herself from her own person and being embraced by a twisted creature that demanded satisfaction in blood. It was a familiar feeling, but a foreign one as well. Nevertheless, such matters did not concern the witch, who only cared about protecting her sister. In response to her resolve, the shadows coalesced around her, propelling her forward. However, the High Inquisitor was prepared, bringing down a sword onto her in a diagonal slash. She dodged to the left, but he responded quicker than she had expected, his feet tracing a crescent moon on the ground, his blade along with them. She ducked and sent the shadows to attach themselves to his body. They immobilised him for only a moment before gold cascaded onto him and the shadows dissolved. The Bishop was holding a book glowing with the same light.

  Her mind could barely register what had happened before the High Inquisitor lunged at her with a glowing sword, slicing in a quick but rhythmic manner that kept her on the defensive. Under his assault, she could not even begin to command the shadows, as she not only needed to keep her eyes on him, but also the Bishop and her sister, collapsed farther away. Against the right opponent, any warrior fights in a way that would appear as a dance to an onlooker, almost never-ending, as the body becomes able to draw strength from a well nigh bottomless. For the witch, the experience was nowhere near as elegant. With her movement slowing down and her mind becoming filled with panic, she was like an animal being devoured by death while still clinging to life. More and more of her wanted to be taken by it, but amid the shattering mirror of her being lied a single piece that was not on the brink of crumbling. It reflected the love she had known from her parents, the love she had for her sister and the desire to live without feeling forsaken by fate. The memory of Mina flashed in her mind for but a second, but it was enough for her to remember the woman’s care, kindness, warmth and determination to help a child she had no reason to care about. The girl wanted to tell this stranger that reminded her of her mother her name, daring to hope that she was the key to end all of the sisters’ struggles.

  She ignored the possibility that Mina had abandoned her for good or that she had been killed when the witch destroyed part of the prison, telling herself that if she could just survive the battle, an entirely new world of possibilities awaited her and her sibling, a chance at a fresh start. Gripping a white thread as the darkness was encroaching on her, the witch watched the High Inquisitor, studying how his feet and arms moved, how he controlled the blade and even how he breathed, asking herself if he had any weakness. In her cell, the shadows had not been able to harm him at all, but they had held him in place moments ago, which she took as a sign that her power had grown enough to grant her victory. However, she needed to account for the Bishop, who seemed proficient in dispelling the shadows. The golden glow on the sword might have been his doing as well, which probably enabled the High Inquisitor to rely on him less in a fight, as his weapon could deal with many of her retaliations on its own. She recalled Mina’s words about the equipment of the Church, realising that the only way to defeat her opponents was to separate them from their tools of witch subjugation.

  Because of his armour and the book, the High Inquisitor was borderline invincible for the way she was right now, but the Bishop did not seem to carry a weapon of his own, nor wear any armour. He could be the weakness she had been looking for. In fact, his position close to a wall could be an opportunity to take both men down in one attack. She continued to dodge the High Inquisitor, making sure her back remained turned to the Bishop, and spread the shadows in-between the very stones of the floor and wall, eroding the cement keeping them all together. The tiles underneath her feet quickly became unstable, boosting her confidence about her plan. As she inched closer to the Bishop, she transformed herself into bait and the men soon took it.

  “Grab the bitch already!” yelled the High Inquisitor at the other man, preparing for one last strike.

  She twirled around the Bishop and kicked a brick at the base of the wall. The structure collapsed the next instant, burying the men and catching her before she could move out of the way as well. The shock of the pain only lasted for a second before she lost consciousness. When she opened her eyes again, she was being dragged out of the rubble by the High Inquisitor, the gold of the sphere in the distance illuminating his disheveled hair, bloodied face, broken armour and the glint of madness in his eyes. He raised a brick, but before it could come down on her, his hand fell off. A scream broke out in the otherwise silent world, cut short by the man’s head being detached from his body in the very next instant. The witch’s breath caught in her chest as his body was about to fall onto her, but it never did, for it was pulled back by someone who had appeared behind it without the girl noticing.

  “…Miss Mina?” she uttered upon recognising the face of her one and only ally, her tone laced with confusion and threads of fear left over form her fight, accentuated by the fact that this Mina was also different from the woman she had got to know. Her eyes were a luminescent red, a pair of large ears protruded from the top of her head and her robe had been replaced by clothes that exposed her stomach and belly and the space between her neck and chest.

  “Miss Witch,” was all this person that was both familiar and strange replied in return, a smile that did not reach her eyes adorning her lips.

  The girl remembered the High Inquisitor and shuddered.

  “Are you…really Miss Mina?” she asked, pushing herself backwards on instinct.

  “Well, who really knows?" answered the woman after a few moments of consideration, as if she was not sure of her identity herself.

  As the witch was struggling to offer a response, she remembered somebody she could no longer see nearby.

  “My sister! Where is my sister?!”

  Mina raised her right hand and pointed towards the outside. The girl scrambled to her feet, ignoring the aching in her body, and ran to find her sibling. She discovered her on the road leading to and from the prison, the sphere’s light revealing the extent of the damage the younger girl had had to endure. The witch dropped next to her, intending to shake her awake, but pulling her hands back before they could touch the wounds on her arms and shoulders. She tried calling to her, but the sister’s eyes remained closed. Fearing the worst, she brought her ear close to the girl’s chest, but she could not hear a heartbeat. With her guts in a knot, the witch threw caution to the wind and pressed her hand on her sibling’s chest, discovering a weak thump as soon as she did. She exhaled in relief and patted the sister on the torso, continuing to call out to her and making sure to keep her voice even. Various symbols and numbers began sprouting on the girl’s body while doing so, bringing the witch to a sudden stop. She studied them, but there was no meaning to them and she could not determine their origin either.

  She blinked, shook her head and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands, but nothing made them disappear. In fact, they were becoming clearer, covering the girl until her body was barely visible anymore. At the center, there was a number that appeared to be decreasing with each passing second, the symbols and the numbers around it starting to flicker as it did. Turning her head to look for Mina, the witch discovered the woman already behind her.

  “What’s the matter?” the latter asked with the same smile as before.

  The former looked between Mina and her sister.

  “Do…Do you see this?” she answered with a question of her own, pointing down.

  The woman frowned for but a second.

  “That’s your sister, isn’t she? Am I supposed to see something else?”

  The witch’s lower lip began trembling.

  “There’s numbers…and symbols everywhere…All over her. You don’t see them at all?”

  Mina knelt down, her eyes fixed on the unconscious young girl. As she did, her figure became covered in symbols and numbers as well, the only discernible difference being that her core was not a number, but a symbol. The witch jumped back and clutched her head.

  “What’s happening to me?!” she questioned both the universe and no one in particular, her chest heaving with each breath.

  She was backing away when she tripped, but was grabbed by Mina before she could fall.

  “Hey, calm down! What’s going on?! What do you see?” the woman demanded to know, shaking the girl’s shoulder.

  “I-I-I don’t know. There’s symbols and numbers everywhere! I can’t see you at all!”

  “What symbols? What numbers?!”

  “I don’t know what they are! I don’t know what they mean! They’re all overlapping!”

  There was a short pause before Mina spoke again.

  “Alright, do I and your sister have the same symbols and numbers?”

  “I can’t tell! Except…”

  The witch walked back to the younger girl, then raised her gaze to the woman, gesturing at her own chest.

  “She has a number that keeps going down. You have something like a bow, but without its ends. And…it’s only you two.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The witch looked around herself.

  “Everything else looks the same. It’s only you that appear as made up of symbols.”

  “A number that keeps going down and…” Mina muttered to herself.

  “Hold on, does my symbol look like an eight lying down?”

  The witch nodded. The woman let out a laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” the former demanded, her chest lighting up.

  “Oh, this is not funny. This is incredible. So it can manifest like this too, huh?”

  “What are you talking about?!”

  “You remember you’re a witch, right? Well, what you see is how your powers manifest. This is largely just a guess on my part, but those symbols and numbers represent the existential code of people. When it comes to your sister, the number that stands out the most is determined by all the others around and shows you…”

  The woman stopped herself, but the girl could not read her expression to reckon why.

  “Show me what?” she simply asked.

  She could hear Mina sigh.

  “It shows you when your sister is going to die.”

  “W-What…?”

  The witch felt as if she had been hit by a boulder.

  “No, this can’t be…No, no…No!”

  As she felt her entire world collapse in an instant, a pair of arms wrapped around her.

  “Shhh. I understand how you feel. But it’s the truth. There’s no point in lying to you.”

  “But why?! Why is she dying?!”

  “You misunderstand. Every living being is marked by death. Actually, everything that exists is, even objects. Everything becomes eroded by time, everything decays eventually. I’m sure you know this. That number only shows you how much a person or an object has until it ceases to exist.”

  “So…every person has a number like that?”

  “Yeah. You do too, but it’s best you don’t look at it. You most likely can’t tell when you will die, but there’s no reason to burden yourself with it.”

  “Wait, I don’t understand…Didn’t you say it tells me when someone’s going to die?”

  Mina broke off the embrace and went to stand by the witch’s sister.

  “It does tell you that, but you must know how to interpret it in order to really learn about the exact moment of someone’s death. You’ve only become a witch, so you can’t do that.”

  “So my sister is fine, then???”

  “I don’t know, but you said the number is going down. I would imagine it would do that regardless, but now that decrease sounds accelerated, since you’re able to observe it.”

  “Can I stop it go down so fast?”

  “No, you can’t. I can’t either. A doctor might, but there’s no such person around.”

  “But you took care of me!”

  “I did, but I’m not medically trained. Treating a cold is not a problem, but you saw your sister. I can’t even begin to understand what’s wrong with her. Well, maybe blood loss is part of it, but she would need to be examined by a specialist anyway.”

  “Then let’s go find someone!”

  Before Mina could reply, a whisper carrying both pain and longing came from below.

  “…Big Sis.”

  The witch’s head snapped to the sibling and she dropped to the younger girl’s side, her hands fumbling.

  “Are you alright?! I’m sorry, I can’t see you very well right now, so—”

  “Big Sis…I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…”

  The sister’s voice was like desert air.

  “What are you talking about? I’m here, I can—”

  “Please…Please kill me…”

  The witch’s body froze, then shuddered.

  “What are you saying?!” she yelled. “I can’t just—”

  “Please…It hurts so much…I’m begging you…”

  A hand was placed on her shoulder.

  “I think you should grant her wish,” the woman advised.

  The witch was ready to protest, but she continued before that could happen.

  “Her End is near. You can see it for yourself, can’t you?”

  The witch gasped and looked at her sister’s number. It was in the double digits. The rest of the numbers and symbols were all flickering and some had eve disappeared.

  “You could wait until her number reaches zero, but why prolong her suffering?” Mina asked, her tone betraying no emotion.

  “But…We just reunited…” was all the witch could say as her chest squeezed the air out of her.

  “I know. But when you love someone, you tend to think of them before thinking of your own person, right? So think of her now.”

  Despite her heart feeling like it was about to burst, the witch no longer had tears left to shed.

  “Alright,” she accepted, hollowed out by her decision. “I’ll do it. How?”

  “I’ll help you. Turn towards me, close your eyes and raise the hand you use most often,” instructed the woman. The witch obeyed and Mina took her right hand.

  “In this world, witches are born as bearers of Terminus, which is a force that brings the End of life and creation. Your power first manifested in a physical manner, probably as a result of the urgency of the situation you were in. In time, it adjusted to you, and now, it manifests in a psychic manner. It altered your perception, enabling you to see the existential makeup of the cosmos, especially the number that represents the End Point of anything. However, because of the nature of Terminus, you can reduce that number to zero against the algorithm that generated it. At this stage, all you have to do is believe that it can be done. Do you believe?”

  Memories of the nobles and the prison walls surfaced through the haze of her mind and she replied: “Yes”.

  “And do you accept to be a Witch of Terminus and grant your sister her final wish?”

  A chill ran through her body, but she still gave her answer: “Yes.”

  A cool and thin cylinder was placed in her open palm, her fingers wrapped around it.

  “Open your eyes.”

  The witch did as told, discovering that she could see Mina clearly once again and that in her hand, she held an object that she could only describe as a shrunken cane. As she rose to her feet, her body tingled and her clothes shifted to a strapless dark dress with a flower motif.

  Her head became adorned by a large hat and the ‘cane’ changed into a metal flower, longer and larger than any real flowers she had ever seen before. Her body was buzzing with the sensation she had had while previously using her power, but it no longer felt like it would consume her. For the first time since her awakening as a witch, she was in control. She buried the shame at the comfort that fact was giving her in the depths of her heart and faced her sister. The number was the only one left, still counting down, but at a significantly slower pace. For a moment, the witch entertained the possibility of the sibling’s recovery, but once her eyes fell on the latter’s face, she finally understood that any wound she could see went beyond the flesh. The dry blood she only noticed now between the girl’s thighs was enough to corroborate that conclusion.

  “What do I do now?” she whispered, her voice like ice in her own throat.

  Mina stood to her side.

  “Replace the number with zero in your mind and your Terminus will make it reality.”

  Having her answer, the witch’s body began trembling.

  “You can use the staff to help yourself focus,” the woman added, pointing at the metal flower in her hand.

  The witch clutched it with both hands and pointed it at where her sister’s number was, envisioning only a zero in its place. However, just like with her hands, she was unable to hold her gaze still and it briefly landed on the sibling’s face again, whose eyes were filled with tears.

  I love you, she mouthed, her bloody and cracked lips moving with difficulty.

  The silent words were like a blow that simultaneously struck the older sister’s chest and gut, almost completely shattering the concentration she was desperately trying to maintain. A warm liquid prickled her cheeks – similar to, but not the same as tears. Her vision was losing focus, as if a fog had descended all around her, obscuring the younger girl’s number. Struck by panic, the witch blinked a few times, strained the muscles of her arms, sucked in her breath and forced her mind’s eye to see nothing but a zero. When she finally exhaled, she discovered that her sister’s eyes were now closed and that she was fading away, her body disintegrating into nothingness. A smile that the witch refused to interpret as anything but peaceful was the last to disappear. The spot the sibling had lied on was as if she had not even existed in the first place. The witch collapsed to her knees, absentmindedly wiping her face, the back of her hand coming off as smeared with black, as if she had cried tar. Mina crouched beside her, taking hand, the woman’s gaze shifting between it and the witch’s face.

  “Don’t worry,” she concluded almost immediately. “Sometimes, your tears will come out like this. Once you start consciously wielding Terminus, it’s common for it to change things in your body.”

  She rolled the large sleeve of her top, exposing her left arm, which was entirely covered in blackness. Parts of it looked different from flesh, reminding the witch of accessories crafted from shells or bones. She might have otherwise gasped, but now, her inside was too empty for her to be able to express any kind of surprise.

  “I get black tears too, by the way,” added the woman, pulling the sleeve down. “They might not be as random as they might for you, but the composition is identical. Well, at least it feels identical.”

  “So you’re like me, then? No wonder you know so much about my power. The Church did not actually teach you anything.”

  “Oh, they did. They didn’t teach me everything I know and everything they did teach me I already knew, albeit not in the form they did, but education was part of my induction into the Church. I didn’t lie about that.”

  The girl scoffed.

  “Alright, sure. But if you’re a witch, how is it that you were never discovered?”

  Mina chuckled.

  “Oh, I’m not a witch, my dear. And technically, you yourself go beyond what that word means in this world. But I digress – they never found out I also wield Terminus because most of mine is stored away from my body. The rest was just pretending to be normal.”

  “Stored away? You can do that? And where is it?”

  The woman stood up and snapped her fingers. Two giant spheres appeared in the sky, outlined by thin threads of light. More lights floated all around them, their sizes, lengths and positions seemingly following no order. Before announcing her confusion, the witch watched the entire display as a whole and realised that those lights were not unlike the lines of a drawing, and if put together, the drawing was that of a face. She pushed herself up, her eyes wide and unblinking.

  “That’s you…” she let out, her mind held in place by shock.

  Every detail of Mina’s head was in the sky, including the large ears on her head. Gulping was everything the girl could do.

  “There’s more,” the woman revealed. “Neck, torso, shoulders, arms, thighs, legs – it’s all there. You just can’t see it from this side of the world.”

  The witch turned to the being next to her and took a step back. Only one question was on her lips.

  “What are you?”

  Mina picked up the staff the girl had left on the ground and offered it to her.

  “It’s best you make up your own mind about that. Explaining what I am from my own perspective would only confuse you further. You don’t need that right now. Still, you’re gonna learn in due time. Who knows? Maybe you’ll even start to understand me. You and I are quite similar, after all, up to a point.”

  The girl took the metal flower back. Despite the exhaustion permeating to her core, her mind still formed a few questions that she came close to posing before deciding against it. She believed Mina about any answers causing more mental harm than good right now. Nonetheless, her curiosity proved too much for her to not ask any question at all.

  “Then, can you just tell me: Is Mina truly your name?”

  The woman’s eyes widened for but a second, then she smiled. This time, there was some emotion behind it, but the witch could not decipher its complexity.

  “It’s…part of my name. Or, it’s part of the name that came to be mine. My original one is long gone. Now, I’m either known as Termina or I’m not known whatsoever.”

  “Termina…” repeated the girl. “Is there any connection between your name and what you called our powers?”

  “Yes,” the woman replied simply, making it clear that she did not wish to elaborate any further. “But you can keep calling me ‘Mina’ if you like. It doesn’t bother me. Oh, right. What’s yours?”

  The witch recalled the deal the two of them made, a tinge of both relief and excitement tugging at her heart at the opportunity to complete it, but even though she opened her mouth, nothing came out.

  “I…I can’t remember…I can’t remember! Why can’t I remember?!”

  Mina watched her clutch her head with her free hand, the frown on her face deepening with each passing moment. She sighed and gently peeled off the girl’s hand.

  “It’s alright,” she assured her. “Remember what I told you about Terminus? Maybe the memory of your name became lost following your…transformation.”

  She indicated the witch’s new look. The latter was stunned for a short while, then sighed and looked away. She could no longer cry, but Mina imagined a new pain had just been added to the potential mountain that had risen deep within her.

  “I can give you a new name, though,” the woman suggested.

  The girl looked at her, her eyes partially obscured by the brim of her hat, but remained silent. Mina walked in front of her and lifted her chin, staring into her eyes.

  “Heh, how curious. I wonder if it’s because I guided your transformation.”

  “W-What is it…?” asked the witch, shifting her body in place.

  The woman let go of her chin, then pointed at her own eyes.

  “Your eyes have changed. There’s a symbol on them now.”

  “What symbol?”

  She pondered how to best describe it, before settling on a physical representation. She brought her fists together, one next to the other, then moved her right arm to the right. A sword manifested in it, darker than night, as if it had been pulled out of the other fist. The blade was thin and slightly curved, while the guard was rounded on all sides, different than any sword the girl had ever seen. Mina slammed it into the ground, then drew a curving shape in the pavement, like a circle flattened at the sides. She finished by tracing a diagonal line through it.

  “Your pupil is right here,” she explained, pointing at the center of the shape. “And this line doesn’t actually cross over your pupil, but the ends are positioned like this, as if it actually does. The iris is all around. And the rest of your eyes are still white.”

  The witch had to take a moment to remember what the pupil and the iris were, but the description she received from the woman helped her understand what her eyes were like now. She approached the symbol, suddenly itching for a mirror or a reflective surface.

  “Does it mean anything?” she inquired, part of her worried about the answer.

  “Hmm. It probably doesn’t mean anything to you, but it does to me. You probably know about mathematics, right? Since you know what numbers are.”

  She nodded.

  “I can actually do calculations myself. Addition, subtraction, multiplication, division.”

  She sounded almost proud and the woman had to stifle a laugh. It would not do to treat such a proclamation unseriously when coming from somebody who grew up on the streets. She might have been educated by her parents, but she still had not forgotten the basics. She deserved respect.

  “That’s great,” Mina offered as praise, then pointed at the symbol with her blade. “Now, then. This is how zero is sometimes represented in mathematics where I’m from. Before being known as ‘zero’, it was called ‘null’.”

  “Null…” the witch repeated to herself.

  Despite its meaning, the word gave her a sense of fulfilment, as if she had just gained a part of herself. It was accompanied by a pang of guilt at the memory of killing her own sister.

  “If I were to give you a name based on this symbol, hmm…” the woman trailed off.

  “Why can’t I just get a normal name?” the girl suggested, her chest flaring slightly.

  The adult shrugged.

  “I dunno, I just think a name like ‘Amber’ would be boring. A name is part of your identity and your identity has already been partially defined by your ability to essentially negate existence. So, it just made sense to me to use ‘null’ as a base for your name.”

  The witch grabbed her shoulder with her free hand.

  “Fine,” she agreed with a sigh. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Let’s see…Null, null…Nullya? No…Nullmaya? Mmm, maybe. Nullana? Wait! What if I rearrange the letters? Lu-nna-la. Lunnala! What do you think?”

  “Lunnala…Yes, that sounds good! I like it!”

  “Alright, then it’s yours! From this day forth, your name shall be Lunnala. And do you know what the best part is? The name can be shortened to Luna, which is a gorgeous string of letters in my opinion.”

  The girl felt a fuzziness in her chest that managed to bring a smile to her face.

  “Yes, I agree. Both are beautiful. And they sound quite normal too, even to me. Thank you.”

  Mina also smiled in return.

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like them.”

  “So, what happens now?” Lunnala asked, not sure what she should do and not too keen on considering her options either. She wanted to stay out of her own head as much as possible.

  The woman turned to the golden sphere and did not reply immediately.

  “I want you to come with me,” she finally said, the gravity in her words palpable.

  “Come where?”

  “On a voyage across the stars.”

  Mina revealed that she was from beyond the sky, proving the witch’s suspicions correct to an extent, and that the latter’s world had been dying for a long time. Now, it was in the final stages of its collapse, so there was no reason for her to not leave. The idea made her heart sting because she had grown up here and she did not know what the place the woman called ‘cosmos’ was like. However, she was aware that as a witch in this fleeting world, especially after losing her sister, she no longer belonged. Besides, she could do nothing to prevent everything around her from being reduced to nothing. As Mina explained, there was an End to anything and when the time came, nobody could stop it. People like the two of them could only hasten that finality. When Lunnala expressed confusion about what the purpose for destroyers like them was, since existence itself was meant to wither and die anyway, the woman only replied with, “Balance”, telling her that she would understand in due time. She accepted the answer for now, then voiced her decision: “I’m going with you. I want to understand what I am and how existence works.”

  The two joined hands, the girl insisting on holding the one transformed by Terminus, and left the prison behind, making their way to the Grand Cathedral, directly below the sphere. According to the woman, the End Point, which to Lunnala appeared as a number, of the entire world was located below it. The former wanted to stimulate it and complete the collapse, saying that, as it had been with the girl’s sister, it was best to put the world out of its misery. Lunnala wondered why she had not brought the End already if she truly knew it was dying, but the latter simply told her that she had wanted to meet a witch before doing so, as she was curious about the form Terminus had taken in this world. Since her wish had been granted, there was nothing holding her here either. They made their way through the chaos of the city center, people acting as if possessed – running to and fro, killing each other or sitting in dark and dirty corners, like in a trance – and when they stood before the Grand Cathedral, Mina swung her blade once. The entire building exploded backwards, leaving behind a smooth cut close to the base.

  Lunnala shuddered, but followed the woman inside nonetheless. A part of her she could not ignore wanted to see what the number of a world looked like. The pair found a long flight of stairs that took them deep beneath the earth, to a room sealed by the supposed blessed arcane engineering of the Church. A single strike was all Mina needed to open the way. Inside, the girl immediately felt more currents than she could count underneath her feet, giving her a sensation of cold, as if she had just stepped inside a giant cube of ice. Steadying her breaths and emptying her mind, she commanded her Terminus to reveal the End Point of the world. The number that appeared in the center of the room was one she could not even begin to read, and it was counting down rapidly. Mina’s sword shifted into one almost as long as she was tall, with a double guard, then the woman stabbed it directly into the number. There was no visible change in the physical world, but the number began flickering violently, growing smaller each time it did. Before long, the ceiling, the walls and the floor became consumed by an invisible force.

  The girl rushed to Mina’s side, her heartbeats accelerated, but the woman’s expression remained calm. The latter told the former to hold onto the sword as well and the former obeyed. As the seconds went by, the flowers on Lunnala’s dress started glowing blue, opening up as if alive. She did not have time to comprehend what was happening, for she soon found herself in a black void, floating like she had seen leaves do in the air every autumn season. Fear squeezing her heart and tying her guts, she glanced at Mina and froze upon discovering that the woman was grinning, her red eyes shinning with a madness that had gone beyond the High Inquisitor’s. At the same time, cracks appeared in the space around them, the light of a kaleidoscope making its way in with difficulty. Without any warning, something hurled them towards it, and their bodies smashed through the darkness of the void itself.