《The Witch of Ravensbrook》


 Prologue

    "16 November 1664: Ten witches were discovered holding a gathering in Thornwick, western Caldoria. Following their arrest and detention by authorities, a 30-day interrogation resulted in confessions and other evidence being submitted. Fifty days later, the trial of the sole surviving witch commenced (nine suspects had perished due to unforeseen accidents during the interrogation)."


    (Caldoria Daily)


    "20 March 1719: The famine and plague ravaging the mainland show no signs of abating! Crops wither, fields die, countless children fall victim, and the streets are rife with rats and the stench of decay! Governor, take action immediately!"


    (Activist group bulletin)


    "5 July 1722: A witch was discovered manufacturing and selling illegal drugs in Witherdale, southwestern Caldoria. She had been exploiting pregnant women and others for experimental drugs, as well as for the illicit use of plants smuggled from the East. It is believed she was attempting to expand witch activity within the town. Based on the informant''s report, an inquisitor''s investigation led to a large-scale inquiry, involving the witch suspect¡¯s family, friends, and acquaintances. One witch was indicted, and 29 townspeople died. Regarding the deaths during the investigation, the district inquisitor commented, ''It was necessary for the inquiry.''"


    (Local Gazette)


    ***


    What is the most beautiful thing in this world? It''s been two years since that day, and I still think about it. That devil answered so easily.


    I was fourteen. I realised my body was changing as I secretly washed my undergarments, hidden from my family.


    When I first saw that red stain, the emotion that rushed through me was close to fear. But more than that, what drove me was the overwhelming need to make sure no one found out.


    On the second morning, I felt weak and unsteady from the pain and fatigue. So, I didn¡¯t immediately notice Mother passing behind me as I washed the cloths in the bucket.


    "Sith," I heard her call. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest. But in reality, my body froze, unable to respond.


    "Disgusting. Just throw it away," Mother said, continuing on as though nothing had happened.


    As my heartbeat began to settle, my shock slowly transformed into something else. My heart sank like a stone into dark waters, burdened by the awful things she had said. Then, gradually, all I could feel was a deep sense of guilt.


    I¡¯m sorry for hiding. I¡¯m sorry for keeping quiet. I¡¯m sorry for making her say something so cruel¡­


    I found myself apologising to the water-filled bucket. But to whom? Why was I apologising?


    No matter how much I thought about it, I couldn¡¯t put it into words. Perhaps, I thought, it¡¯s because I¡¯m tainted. Strangely enough, thinking that made me feel a little lighter.


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    Since then, I¡¯ve wondered about it constantly. What is beauty? Why am I so tainted?


    The room I¡¯m in now. The ceiling is low, and the attic feels cramped. The old wooden window frame is filled with dust in its cracks. Cleaning it would take some clever effort. The sunlight streaming through the window is faint, casting long shadows on the weathered floorboards.


    It''s an old house, but I don¡¯t mind. It feels as though its history is etched into every corner, and that excites me. Besides, it¡¯s not too perfect. Just like me¡­


    I blew the dust from the window frame and sat cross-legged on the bed. Reaching for the small wooden box sitting on the even smaller side table, I opened it.


    Inside were scraps of parchment and dried flowers. Among them lay a soft bracelet woven with red and green threads.


    The colours of the deep forest surrounding Ravensbrook. And Alicia¡¯s rich, fiery red hair.


    It was the bracelet we made together. Laughing over a lunch spoon that rolled away, sharing small secrets we couldn¡¯t tell our mothers. We made it together.


    It¡¯s been two years since those days with Alicia. To me, it feels like a time so long that the world has changed three times over. But at the same time, it feels like it was only yesterday.


    It was on a warm summer day.


    Burning streets, hunters, their silver swords raised, ancient spells, and Alicia wielding magic.


    The thought of it makes my chest tighten painfully.


    "Alicia," I realised I was whispering. Even in the stillness of the room, my voice was barely audible.


    I think of her. When I do, a cold, dark feeling washes over me, followed by a soft, warm one. As though they were holding hands. As though we were still holding hands.


    It¡¯s always like this when I think of Alicia.


    Her bright laughter echoing through the market street. Her wide eyes as we explored Valentine¡¯s shop. The warmth of her hand as we ran through Ravensbrook¡¯s winding roads. Was it really only a few months? No, for me, it felt like the longest time in my life. Even if, now, it belongs to the devil instead of her.


    A light knock on the door startled me from my thoughts.


    "Sith?" Mother¡¯s voice was hesitant, unlike before. "Dinner¡¯s ready."


    "I¡¯m coming." I quickly wiped my eyes and responded.


    I returned the bracelet to the box and carefully placed it under the bed. Standing, I looked at my reflection in the small mirror hanging on the wall.


    I¡¯m shorter than most girls my age. Maybe a little too thin, as Mother keeps telling me to eat more. But my face is round. My reddish-brown hair is coarse, with strands sticking out of my braid here and there. My amber eyes, slightly dark, have green flecks in them.


    Nothing like Alicia. Just a scrawny little thing. Looking at myself makes me feel a little sad. But the cardigan Grandma gave me is warm and soft. Wearing it makes me feel just a little more confident.


    I love literature, and I spend most of my time reading books. I¡¯m clumsy, timid, and shy.


    Father is a poet, and Mother is a seamstress. My younger sister, just a year younger than me, has a bright smile like the sun. She¡¯s very cute, unlike me.


    I wonder if I¡¯ve changed at all since that day two years ago. I ask my reflection in the mirror. Perhaps, I haven¡¯t changed much.


    But there is one thing that has moved forward.


    What is the most beautiful thing in this world? I reached out to the mirror. My left hand touched its surface. The reflection showed my right hand extended. The blood-black mark etched on my arm was visible. But in the reflection, it was hidden in shadow.


    This must be how it is. Beauty and filth exist side by side. That day, I learned that truth.


    My name is Sith Cumaill.


    This is a short tale about me and Alicia, the warm people of Ravensbrook, and the witches.

 A Witch in Hiding

    The morning sun painted the sea a glowing orange. As the fog lifted, the clock tower of the town hall emerged, and the quaint yet bustling market streets came to life. My town, Ravensbrook, was waking up.


    As I ran along the cobblestone streets, my well-worn boots tapped out a steady rhythm. The soft clip-clop of horses'' hooves, the distant cries of seagulls from the harbour, the cheerful chatter of the townspeople¡ªthis was the familiar melody I heard every day.


    I turned the corner onto Market Street. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted toward me. It had to be from Ms Thornberry''s bakery. She must be baking the town''s famous salt-cured bread. Crisp like a thin biscuit on the outside, soft and warm on the inside.


    Come to think of it, I hadn¡¯t had breakfast yet. But there was no time to stop. Valentine was waiting for me.


    "Good morning, Sith," called an old man with deep laugh lines, waving as he passed. His wrinkles deepened as he smiled, his whole face lighting up.


    "Good morning, Mr. Flannery," I waved back, making sure to lower my hand just above my wrist to keep my sleeve from rolling up.


    Rosemary, thyme, and lavender were blooming cheerfully under the eaves.


    The moment I caught the fresh scent of the herbs, I felt a strange tingling deep in my skin. My body froze for just an instant.


    Trying not to make Mr. Flannery suspicious, I put on my brightest voice.


    "Your flowers look lovely!"


    "I¡¯ve gone and bought more again. I''m really not sure which is my real job anymore," Mr. Flannery chuckled as he carefully watered the flowers. The sign for his shop, which is right next door, says ¡°Flanary Fruit Store¡±. Despite his words, he didn¡¯t seem the least bit regretful. He really must love flowers.


    Seeing the expression on his face, the tingling sensation in my body faded away.


    To me, the warmth of the townspeople was like sunlight nurturing flowers. Thanks to them, I could lift my face and look up to the sky with hope.


    Parting from Mr. Flannery, I hurried on like an ordinary girl rushing to work.


    Valentine''s shop came into view. Its windows were filled with all sorts of curiosities gathered from distant lands. As I approached, I saw Valentine struggling to hang a new sign above the door. His favourite new hat matched his well-groomed beard. He¡¯d been fretting lately about the white hairs creeping into his hair and seemed preoccupied with how his hat sat, even while working.


    "I¡¯ll help!" I picked up my pace.


    "Ah, Sith! Just in time. Careful, it¡¯s heavier than it looks!" Valentine glanced down at me, his stern expression softening into a warm smile.


    I took the sign and tried to attach it to its spot. Again, a familiar tingling sensation ran through my arm, like a small static shock. It disappeared quickly, leaving only a faint ripple in the air.


    In my haste to finish, I stepped forward with all my might to lift the sign.


    That¡¯s when my foot landed in a puddle, sending water splashing up onto my skirt.


    "Oh no!"


    My cheeks burned with embarrassment. As I tried to step out of the puddle, I knocked over a nearby bucket of water. A stream of water spread across the front of the shop.


    "I¡¯m so sorry!"


    Panicking, I stretched up on my tiptoes, trying to keep the sign from getting wet. But my balance shifted, and I toppled backward, the sign still in hand.


    The sign traced an arc through the air, landing squarely on Valentine¡¯s head. His hat pierced right through it.


    I turned pale with fear, but at least Valentine¡¯s white hair was hidden by the broken sign and hat. A small mercy...


    After cleaning up the bucket and brushing the mud from my skirt, I apologised to Valentine over and over again.


    Valentine''s eyes twinkled as he laughed.


    "It¡¯s alright, it¡¯s alright. A sign¡¯s job is to stand out, after all! And this one¡¯s perfect!"


    Another board was nailed over the hole in the sign, and it was hung up as is. It read "Cortes¡¯ Curios and Collectibles." The difference in the colour of the boards made it easy to spot the large hole where the "o" in Collectibles should have been.


    It certainly stood out.


    I kept apologising, but Valentine assured me that if I worked hard, it would make up for it.


    "Are you changing the shop¡¯s name?" I asked.


    Valentine nodded, stroking his beard.


    "Could bring in more customers from the bigger towns."


    As I stepped inside the shop, the familiar scent of spices and old parchment greeted me. Cinnamon, nutmeg, beautiful specimens of shells and coral, maps from distant lands, and difficult philosophy books. The shelves were packed with items whose use I couldn¡¯t quite figure out.


    This shop might be a sanctuary for me. Here, at least for a while, I could forget my worries.


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    "A new shipment¡¯s arrived from the Eastlands," Valentine said, pointing to wooden crates stacked in the corner. "I¡¯ll handle the ledger, could you sort through those?"


    "Leave it to me!" I nodded eagerly.


    This was my chance to redeem myself after the earlier mishap. And besides, shipments from other lands always held fascinating items. Delicate porcelain dishes and figurines, intricately woven tapestries. Handling these items made me dream of worlds far beyond Ravensbrook¡¯s borders.


    I reached for a small box tucked between silk scarves.


    That¡¯s when it happened. A strange sensation washed over me. It felt like cool wind rushing through my veins, and suddenly, a flood of images filled my mind.


    Wheat fields. Vineyards. Rugged mountains stretched in all directions. Deep valleys. Below, farmland looked withered, as though it were dying. Cloudy skies. Even the cattle in the distance were thin. The scene shifted. In a forest, patterns were drawn on the ground with a sword. A golden basin lay in the centre. A voice called out. "Francesca... Francesca..." No, was that... my voice? "Francesca... Frances... th... Sith!"


    I snapped back to reality. A small box, surrounded by scarves. The scent of parchment. This was Ravensbrook. Valentine was staring at me, concerned.


    My heart was pounding. Cold sweat trickled down my back. I had been seeing visions of a place I didn¡¯t recognise.


    "Are you alright, Sith? You look a bit worn out. Sorry for making you handle that sign." Valentine¡¯s eyes were filled with worry and concern.


    "No, it¡¯s not that. I¡¯m sorry, Valentine. I just..." I struggled to cover up my strange experience. "I must have dozed off. I think I was dreaming!"


    Valentine adjusted his hat, looking surprised.


    "Dozed off? Right after you said ''Leave it to me!''? That was fast!"


    "Yes! I¡¯ve gotten really good at falling asleep lately! But don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m fine!"


    I tried to sound cheerful, desperate to change the subject.


    "Don¡¯t push yourself. Why don¡¯t you rest a bit in the back room?" Valentine fiddled with his beard, looking troubled.


    "Thanks, but really, I¡¯m fine! It¡¯s still morning, and I¡¯m not sleepy at all!"


    "Wait¡ªdidn¡¯t you just say you were asleep? Are you sure you¡¯re alright? Please don¡¯t go breaking anything..."


    Just then, the bell above the door rang. A new customer had arrived. Grateful for the distraction, I quickly hurried toward the door.


    The moment I saw the girl standing there, I couldn¡¯t help but gasp.


    Her red hair, cascading down her back, was as vibrant as flames. Its gentle waves moved like the ebb and flow of the sea.


    A small nose, full lips, slender fingers that sparkled subtly with each movement. From her delicate features to the tips of her fingers, she was refined and elegant.


    Though she appeared delicate and graceful, there was an undeniable strength beneath it all, like a hidden flame. She was so beautiful and captivating, I found myself completely enthralled in an instant.


    "Good day," she said, her lips moving with the grace of a porcelain doll. Her pronunciation was flawless.


    "G-good morning," I stammered.


    "Perhaps it¡¯s a bit early for the afternoon. ¡®Good morning¡¯ is more fitting, isn¡¯t it?" she said with an elegant laugh, her dress swaying slightly. Her clothes looked expensive, though I couldn¡¯t begin to guess how much they cost or what they were made of.


    "I heard this was the biggest shop in town, with the most unusual items," the red-haired girl continued as she glanced around the shop. "It¡¯s smaller than I expected."


    It took me a good thirty seconds to process her words. Judging from her manner of speaking, she must have come from outside Ravensbrook. Did she think this was just a small, countryside curio shop? Was she mocking it?


    The more I thought about it, the more annoyed I became.


    To me, this shop isn¡¯t small at all. It¡¯s the widest place in the world, taking me beyond this town! I wanted to tell her that.


    But being timid, all I could do was start cleaning the shelves, muttering, "Please be careful not to break anything."


    As I dusted off the wooden carvings and tapestries from the East, I found myself stealing glances at her. Even though I was annoyed, I couldn¡¯t take my eyes off her every move.


    "''The human mind is not a tabula rasa. Instead of an ideal plane for receiving an image of the world in toto, it is a crooked mirror, on account of implicit distortions''".


    "Huh?" I gaped at her words. She closed the book she had been browsing and smiled at me.


    "I¡¯m Alicia Hunte. Do you work here?"


    My heart pounded at her sudden question, and my mother¡¯s warning echoed in my mind.


    "Y-yes. I¡¯m Sith Cumaill."


    "How old are you?"


    "Fourteen."


    "Same as me."


    Where had my earlier anger gone? Finding something in common with her, I felt a small flicker of joy.


    Alicia stared at me closely.


    "Your eyes, they¡¯re as deep green as a forest. They¡¯re so beautiful."


    I felt my whole body flush, as if I were blushing to the tips of my ears. No one had ever called me beautiful before.


    "My family just moved to Ravensbrook," Alicia said, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I¡¯d like to know more about the town. Could you show me around? Of course, after your work is done," she added with a playful wink.


    It felt like magic. There was something about Alicia that was bright, welcoming, and almost too perfect. I felt a strange resonance, as if she could illuminate and erase every dark thing within her.


    Without even thinking, I found myself nodding. For the rest of the day, my head was in a fog, and I barely managed to get half of my usual work done (even so, Valentine praised me, saying, "Thanks as always").


    When my break finally came, I got permission from Valentine and stepped outside to meet her.


    The familiar streets of Ravensbrook, the sunlight, everything felt like a different world I had never known before.


    Even the sound of my boots on the cobblestones seemed better than usual, as if they were brand new. But when I looked down, they were still the same old boots I always wore.


    Valentine¡¯s shop had always been my sanctuary. So what was this meeting with her? It was another world, similar but different.


    She was a gateway. A gateway to a world I thought I knew but didn¡¯t.


    I had a premonition that this encounter would be the beginning of something special, something that would change my life forever.


    Yet as I caught a glimpse of her from the corner of my eye, a strange thought crossed my mind. The words my mother always said to me: "Be careful, Sith." Dangerous? Am I the dangerous one? Or is it...


    Beautiful Alicia and small, unremarkable me. This was the beginning of our encounter.

 Flowers of Friendship

    "That building over there is the town hall," I said, pointing to the imposing stone structure with its clock tower. "It''s the oldest building in Ravensbrook. Sometimes, on hot summer nights, it doesn''t strike the thirteenth hour. The townspeople say it¡¯s a sign that something bad is coming."


    "What kind of bad things happen?" Alicia''s emerald eyes sparkled, filled with the brightness of a child about to embark on an adventure. For some reason, I felt a small urge to tease her. I was jealous of her.


    "I don''t know. I''ve never seen it happen," I replied.


    "Sith, you could use a bit more curiosity," Alicia teased.


    "Curiosity?"


    "''Scientia et potentia humana in idem coincidunt, quia ignoratio causae destituit effectum''. (Human knowledge and power meet in one; for where the cause is not known, the effect cannot be produced.)"


    "I don''t understand."


    "It means you should seek out things that excite your heart! That''s how we''ll grow stronger and more beautiful." Alicia smiled innocently. Seeing her smile, I felt a pang in my chest. How small-minded of me to want to be mischievous to such a sincere girl.


    Alicia showed interest in every part of the town. The damp sea breeze blowing through the harbour where ships came and went. The sounds of hammers and saws echoing from the repair workshops. The market square where children ran about. The old but well-tended garden of the chapel.


    I suddenly wondered how Ravensbrook looked through her eyes. Did it seem like a completely different world from the one I knew?


    Every now and then, she¡¯d casually quote phrases that seemed to pop into her head.


    I barely understood what they meant, but watching her expressions and gestures, I knew they were different from the scriptures we learned in church.


    How were they different? I couldn''t explain it well. It was a different way of facing the world that surrounds us.


    She must be much smarter than me.


    Alicia stood out as we toured the town, and at first, I felt proud. I thought maybe I¡¯d become someone special too.


    But I quickly realised that was a misunderstanding.


    Alicia''s dress had beautiful embroidery even at the collar, and her skirt was shiny and full. The bodice fit her body perfectly, as if it had been made just for her.


    When I looked back at my own clothes with this in mind, I felt very disappointed. Mine were too big and baggy, with patches sewn over holes in places.


    "Good day, Miss Alicia," a voice called out. As we turned, we saw a well-dressed woman smiling at Alicia. Her movements were refined and efficient, as if manners themselves were wearing clothes.


    "Good day, Miss Pemberley," Alicia curtsied politely.


    I instinctively straightened my posture and bowed my head politely, imitating Alicia.


    "Miss, this is Sith, my friend," Alicia said, straightening her posture and raising her chin.


    Pemberley forced a smile before looking at me. As her eyes moved from my shoes to my skirt, her expression turned colder with each glance.


    I unconsciously looked back at my own skirt and discovered a stain. It must have been from when I knocked over the bucket of water in Valentine''s shop.


    "Miss Alicia, charity is a virtue. However, please be careful in choosing your companions. It is only with dignity that one becomes human. Do you understand?" Pemberley glanced at me and smiled quietly.


    My cheeks suddenly felt hot. It felt like being jolted awake from a warm afternoon nap by a splash of cold water. I suddenly felt ashamed of how proudly I had been showing her around town. Pemberley was saying that she and I lived in different worlds. Charity. Alicia had been performing an act of charity towards me.


    I wanted to run, to get as far away as possible. I couldn''t stand being here. But at that moment, my arm was grabbed. Alicia was gripping my arm tightly.


    "Pardon me, Miss Pemberley," Alicia said resolutely.


    "Mr Locke says that people are already human in nature. He says that we possess property and bodies equally based on natural law, without relying on the will of others. Isn''t it rather undignified behaviour to set boundaries of wealth and status on friendship?"


    "Locke? You''re on about those strange ideas again..."


    "There''s nothing strange about it, Miss. It''s just natural philosophy."


    "Philosophy is a gentleman''s pursuit, Miss Hunt. We women have other pursuits to cultivate the virtue of modesty."


    "In that case, Miss," Alicia smiled mischievously, "perhaps you should exercise some modesty in your zealous education. All this talk of separate pursuits for men and women might remain mere theory without a partner, after all."


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    Now it was Pemberley¡¯s turn to flush bright red. "Miss Alicia! How dare you!"


    Without missing a beat, Alicia grabbed my hand and started running. "Let''s go, Sith!"


    "I''ll be reporting this to Mr Hunt!" Pemberley''s shout echoed in the distance as we ran hand in hand with all our might.


    We ran out of Market Street, around the Town Hall, and back to the front of the city hall with its clock tower. We ran until we were out of breath and could move no more.


    We reached a spot in the shadow of the city hall and collapsed onto the ground. The mud from the recent rain hadn''t dried yet. Dirt and dust clung to our skirts, but we were too exhausted to care.


    Alicia thought for a moment, then sat down on the ground in the same way. Her beautifully arranged fluffy petticoat and skirt lost their shape, but she was laughing.


    "Are you alright, Alicia?" I asked between gasps for air. After asking, I realised there was a hidden meaning in this question. I hesitated whether I should ask Alicia about it directly.


    "I''m fine, I''m fine. Father can''t get angry at me," Alicia replied, equally out of breath.


    "Pemberley is my tutor. She came with us from our previous town. We''ve been arguing like that since I was little. But did you see her face?" Alicia laughed loudly.


    "Though I might have gone a bit too far. I should apologise later."


    We remained silent for a while until our breathing steadied.


    "You know, in my family," Alicia began once she had calmed down, "my father works in trade. Since I was little, it''s been hectic with him going on business trips, us living in different houses for short periods. My mother is a botanist. I was always alone. Even this time, they suddenly decided to move. Without even asking me."


    Alicia''s expression was a little melancholic. After a moment of silence, she turned to face me.


    "Sith, I''m sorry. I made you feel bad, didn''t I? It''s because of my selfishness. I hated moving to this town, and I wanted to vent my frustrations. I''m sorry for dragging you around..."


    Alicia bowed her head politely.


    Her circumstances, her family, the environment she grew up in, they were all completely different from mine. Her clothes, her home, her education - even in the short time we''d been together, everything was worlds apart.


    And yet, somewhere in my heart, I couldn''t think of her as a stranger.


    I hesitated. Should I put into words the question that had been in my heart for a while now? But I felt that if I missed this chance, I might never be able to ask. I wanted to know. But I also didn''t want to know.


    "Why... why did you come to Valentine''s shop? Why did you talk to me?"


    I found myself asking Alicia these questions. At the same time, I regretted it. What if Alicia''s answer was different from what I hoped? My heart pounded at the thought.


    Charity is a virtue... Pemberley''s words echoed in my mind. These words, which should have been beautiful, felt like a knife stabbing deep into my chest.


    What was I to Alicia? Was I just an object of charity? Had she merely given alms to a miserable, tainted little girl on a whim?


    I felt a fear as if my very existence was being transformed from a person into something else. I remembered the cold gazes of Pemberley and my mother from long ago.


    "It''s a lovely shop, isn''t it? It reminded me a bit of my father''s study," she answered, tilting her head slightly. Even though she was just answering a question, her charm seemed to overflow. This was the answer to my first question.


    "As for why I talked to you..." Alicia put her finger to her chin, looking up at the sky.


    The desire to hear the answer and the wish not to hear it battled in my heart. I regretted asking such a question. Cold sweat trickled down my back. My hands, gripping my skirt, had tensed up.


    "The signboard, I guess," Alicia answered as if it were nothing special.


    "Huh?" I let out a gasp of air.


    "You were swinging that signboard around in front of the shop and then brought it down on the shopkeeper''s head, didn''t you?"


    "Ah, yes..." It was about when I tried to replace the sign at Valentine''s shop. She had seen that scene. I felt embarrassed. "But it wasn''t on purpose, the sign was heavy!"


    "When I saw that, I thought it was interesting. I thought, ''What a strange girl.'' You see, I''m always being scolded for being strange too, always reading books in my father''s study," Alicia twirled her red hair around her finger. "I thought maybe we strange girls could be friends. So I followed you into the shop," she said, laughing sheepishly.


    "That''s all?"


    "That''s right."


    "But... what about what your tutor said? About charity and virtue?"


    "Oh, that?" Alicia looked around and then said in a small voice, "You know, I don''t really like things like goodness, virtue, and righteous deeds. Don''t you think? The idea that only doing good makes a pure person, that''s all a lie. Both the beautiful and the ugly, that''s what makes a human."


    Alicia''s frank words gently struck the feelings that had been aching in my chest.


    "I''m tainted," I muttered without thinking.


    Alicia, not understanding the true meaning of my words, took out a handkerchief and brushed off the mud on my skirt. Then, she wiped her own skirt in the same way and smiled.


    "Me too."


    The taint Alicia was talking about and the ''filth'' I was thinking of must have been different things.


    Even so, I could feel my heart becoming lighter. The things I had been worrying about started to seem trivial.


    Even if it was only a small part of the truth. Even if it was hiding an enormously bigger lie behind it.


    Soon, it was almost time for the afternoon bell to ring.


    "I have to get back to Valentine''s shop. My break is ending," I said, hurriedly rubbing my face to hide the tears that had welled up in my eyes as I stood up.


    "Wait," Alicia grabbed my hand to stop me. "I said it earlier without asking for your permission. Before I cause you any more trouble, let me ask properly," Alicia said formally. "Miss Sith, would you be my friend?"


    It was an exaggerated way of speaking, but I realised it was her way of hiding her embarrassment.


    "Miss Alicia, I have one condition," I said, trying to be as formal as Alicia. "There¡¯s a bakery I love on Market Street. Next time, you¡¯re coming with me! Isn¡¯t that what ¡®natural¡¯ means?"


    Alicia froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. "That might not be quite right, but let''s go with it! I''m looking forward to it!"


    We looked at each other and laughed. We walked back to the shop arm in arm. We were getting quite strange looks from people around us, but that only made it funnier, and we tried to hold back our laughter as we walked.


    We arrived in front of Valentine''s shop. We said our goodbyes.


    Finally, Alicia looked around once more, then made a gesture as if to whisper in my ear.


    "By the way, Sith. Don''t laugh when you hear this," I was excited to hear what interesting words would come out this time. Until I heard those words.


    "Are there any witches in Ravensbrook?"

 Jenseits von Gut und B?se (Part 1)

    The sky began to cloud over. As though the morning''s clear weather had been a lie. The weather in this town is fickle. That''s why everyone loves to talk about it. It can suddenly rain, or clear up as if by magic.


    As I watched the clouds gather, I slowly turned Alicia''s words over in my mind.


    "Are there any witches in Ravensbrook?"


    The pleasant moment from earlier had already vanished, and now my heart began to race. My left hand tingled. A sudden change, just like the weather. But it''s alright. We''ve managed well so far. Calm down, Sith. Put on a smile and don''t look away from Alicia.


    "Witches? There''s no way such people exist nowadays, Alicia."


    "Nowadays? Were there some in the past?" Alicia shot back sharply.


    "Sorry, I''ve never heard such stories. Not now, not in the past. Alicia, you do tell such interesting jokes," I said.


    Feigning the need to adjust my shoe, I turned my back to her, seizing the moment to compose my face into an indifferent mask.


    "I read about it in one of Father''s books. About witches living in Caldoria. It said that long, long ago, there were many witches in this country."


    "Alicia, that... word. That ''wit...'' word. You mustn''t say it out loud. You''ll shock the townspeople if they hear. I don''t know about where you lived before, but here, everyone avoids saying that word," I said.


    "Is that so? I''m sorry, I didn''t know. I didn''t mean to frighten you," Alicia said in a sad voice. I felt very apologetic.


    "Because, you know, I''ve heard that ''those people'' use evil magic. Like withering crops... or transforming into cats and frogs to deceive people. And if ''those people'' are found, they''re caught by the authorities, put on trial, and subjected to terrible things," I said, taking slow, deep breaths that Alicia couldn''t see. My heart continued to pound.


    "I see. Some of the books I read described it that way too. ''Those people'' made pacts with the devil, turned their backs on God''s teachings, and tried to corrupt people. There are records of vigorous crackdowns to persecute ''those people'' in countries outside Caldoria too. It went on for over a hundred years. Through means too horrifying to speak of... Because of that, ''those people'' have almost disappeared," Alicia said in a pained voice.


    At last, my heart began to calm. I turned back to Alicia and said as gently as I could, "I see. But that''s good, isn''t it? That ''those people'' are gone."


    Alicia shook her head. "But you know, there are still places where witch hunts occasionally happen. Apparently, it''s been gradually increasing again recently."


    A cold sweat ran down my back. The clouds in the sky spread, beginning to rumble.


    "Have you ever seen them, Alicia? ''Those people''?" I asked, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible.


    "No, unfortunately," Alicia denied again. What did she mean by ''unfortunately''? I belatedly regretted my own ignorance. There had been newspapers in Valentine''s shop. Perhaps I should have engaged in more small talk and learned more about the world.


    "In the city where I lived, we hardly ever heard such stories. They say witches are more common in provincial towns and villages," Alicia said, as if showing off her knowledge. "Especially in mountainous areas or places surrounded by forests... Come to think of it, there was a large forest near this town too, wasn''t there?"


    Something small hit my face. Rain had begun to fall without me noticing. Droplets of rain began to patter softly against our clothes.


    "Oh my, it''s started to rain," Alicia said, looking up at the sky.


    Was it because of the suddenly chilled air? I felt as if my spine had frozen. The scenes of witch hunts my mother had taught me about flickered in my mind.


    Witches discovered in towns are persecuted, subjected to intense interrogation and numerous tortures. This knowledge, which I had only known in words, suddenly appeared before me with a sense of reality.


    What was Alicia trying to say? Why had she approached me?


    "Alicia, are you," I said, forcing the words out from the back of my throat, "looking for witches? For what purpose?"


    Alicia¡¯s lips curled into a delicate, beautiful smile.


    "Sith, listen. I''ll tell only you. Please don''t think I''ve gone mad or anything."


    I nodded silently. If she was hunting witches. If she was our enemy, then I would... Unconsciously, I had clenched my left hand.


    "Sith, I," Alicia said, taking a breath before continuing with determination, "admire witches. I have, ever since I was little..."


    Her emerald eyes glimmered, their brightness shifting subtly. They were clear eyes. I don''t know yet, but it might be similar to love. Perhaps when we fall in love, our eyes look like this.


    The rain had stopped without my noticing. It had been just a brief shower. Like a momentary spell to create time for us to exchange words.


    ***


    Near St. Brigid''s Chapel, in a quiet corner of Ravensbrook. Walking down a narrow cobblestone path to its end.


    There stand small but refined, modest cottages in a row. Their weathered facades have a colour like a patchwork of grey and brown fabric. It speaks to the age of the buildings. The windows are adorned with boxes of herbs I don''t even know the names of, their fresh scent wafting on the breeze.


    I looked back, checking on Alicia walking behind me. The path is narrow, I wondered if she felt cramped. But Alicia''s expression showed only wonder and surprise at new discoveries. She was her usual self.


    "The walls are completely covered in thick ivy. It''s so small and cute, like a fairy''s house!" Alicia smiled back, noticing my gaze.


    "Yeah, well... It has a certain charm," I replied, thinking that the people living inside might make complex faces if they heard this.


    As the sun approached its zenith, we turned the last corner. "This is Mr Edwin''s house," I said, pointing to the cottage that appeared.


    "It''s lovely," Alicia gasped. Edwin''s garden was like a child''s playground. Toys scattered everywhere, never tidied up.


    Unfamiliar plants, half-finished mechanical contraptions made of wood and metal, instruments of unknown purpose were strewn about, asserting their place.


    "Is that... a miniature windmill? And next to it, a pendulum? My, what a charming nameplate. ''Mr Fontaine, Tutor of Natural Philosophy and Letters''. Such an intellectual name," Alicia read aloud the handwritten wooden sign in her refined pronunciation.


    As she finished, the cottage door opened.


    A tall man with round glasses perched askew appeared. He was trying to tie back his dishevelled hair with one hand while adjusting his crooked glasses with the other. Seeing this familiar gesture, a mixture of meticulousness and absentmindedness, I found it a bit amusing.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Well, hello. Today we have a lovely guest with us. Good day to you both," Edwin welcomed us with an unpretentious smile.


    "Mr Fontaine, it''s an honour to meet you. I¡¯ve heard so much about your scholarly accomplishments," Alicia greeted him with a curtsy, stepping one foot slightly back.


    "Miss Hunt, the honour is mine to have you visit," Edwin replied, placing one hand on his chest and bowing his upper body. Perhaps noticing me staring blankly at their exchange, Edwin quickly changed his manner.


    "Well, this doesn''t suit me. Let''s drop the formalities. ''My words fly up, my thoughts remain below. Words without thoughts never to heaven go,'' as they say. I''ve just acquired some rare tea. Come, ladies, let''s have a tea party inside."


    We ascended to the study on the first floor. The room was filled with the scent of old parchment and leather-bound books. It was a familiar sight: bookshelves twice my height, a desk so large I couldn''t reach across it with both arms outstretched, and several chairs for students.


    "Is this where Sith usually studies?" Alicia asked, casually looking around.


    "Yes. Though by study, I mean learning how to write letters and read books," I said. Recently, I''d also been learning how to read newspapers, but I didn''t mention that to Alicia.


    "Oh, what''s that?" Alicia''s gaze fell on a display case filled with masks from distant lands and fossils.


    "Hmm. Maybe he picked them up in the garden?" I said.


    "Sith, are you joking or are you serious?" Alicia asked.


    "Well, which do you think?" I replied.


    As we were fooling around, Edwin returned with a wooden tray laden with tea things. The tea he poured had an unfamiliar, strange aroma.


    "What a unique fragrance. Where are these leaves from?" Alicia delicately pinched the cup with her thumb, index, and middle fingers, taking a sip or two to savour it.


    "It''s tea from an Eastern country called Sinna, or so I''m told. I bought it from a merchant who came to town. It has a very distinctive taste and aroma, doesn''t it? They say that one sip can make you feel as if you''ve travelled to that country," Edwin explained.


    In the glass teapot, a pale pink flower was opening in the hot water. I don''t drink tea often, but just looking at it made me feel elegant. When I took a sip, it had a strange fragrance and taste unlike any herbal tea from this country.


    "Well, I''ve never been to Sinna myself, so I don''t know what it''s really like. By the way, that merchant hadn''t been there either. Whether this tea is really from the East at all is questionable, ha ha!" Edwin laughed as he quickly drank his tea.


    "Oh... well..." Even the usually composed Alicia stumbled over her words. Seeing this rare sight, I laughed quietly. Alicia puffed out her cheeks and glared at me with a "Hey!"


    "So that''s how you laugh, Sith," Edwin said.


    I was startled by his words. It was the first time anyone had said something like that to me. Was he complimenting me, or teasing me? As I pondered this for a moment, he got to the point.


    "So, ladies. What brings you here today? Have you come to introduce me to your lovely friend, or perhaps to view my collection, for which I''d be grateful?" Edwin turned boyish eyes towards the display case behind him.


    "While that''s also a very interesting topic," Alicia quietly set her teacup down on the table. The cup and saucer made a faint sound as they touched.


    "Mr Fontaine, I''m interested in your area of expertise. I''ve heard that you''re doing very valuable research. The folklore and legends of Caldoria..." She glanced briefly at the study door before looking resolutely at Edwin. "About the history of magic and witches. Could you share your thoughts with us?"


    Alicia straightened her posture.


    Though I had expected it, hearing the word "witch" made my body freeze for a moment. I turned my gaze to Edwin. He leaned back in his chair, thoughtfully adjusting his glasses. The cheerful atmosphere from earlier had retreated behind this.


    "It''s an interesting and complex topic, this. Miss Hunt, from what I can see, you''ve been educated in a proper and respectable household. Isn''t the theme you''ve just mentioned at odds with such principles?" Edwin said with his teacher''s expression.


    "I''m aware it''s improper," she quickly countered. "Sir, this is academic curiosity." As she said this, she shot a glance at me.


    Despite her words, Alicia was restlessly fidgeting with her fingers on her lap. Her eyes wandered between me and Edwin. I was surprised to discover that she could make such anxious gestures. This wasn''t her usual self, brimming with confidence and showing no hesitation.


    But of course, it''s only natural. Alicia is much smarter and more intelligent than me, but she''s still a girl the same age. It''s only natural to be nervous when discussing specialised topics with an adult male scholar. Thinking this, I suddenly found her anxious expression endearing.


    I recalled the words she had said to me in the rain the other day. She wants to know about witches. But that might be a misguided admiration. Mother won''t even utter the word "witch." Even in Valentine''s shop, the topic of witches hardly ever comes up. Surely, among the people of Ravensbrook, there''s an unspoken agreement not to discuss this.


    If she were to talk about witches somewhere without knowing this, she might be bullied. That was a very unpleasant thought, for various reasons.


    Mr Edwin would teach her the "correct" knowledge about witches. He would surely explain it well. That''s why I brought her here today.


    Even as I thought this, I was aware deep down that it was somewhat of a self-justification. I harboured feelings towards Alicia''s interest in witches that were separate from fear. But I was deliberately pretending not to see those feelings...


    "Alicia has been studying about magic and, um, witches. She''s been reading books in her father''s study," I said, deciding to support her after some hesitation.


    "What kind of literature have you read?" Edwin asked with interest.


    "The first one I read was ''The Discovery of Witchcraft''," Alicia began cautiously. "Witches who rotted crops and killed livestock were subjected to terrible persecution and torture... But as I read on, I realised the author was against such witch hunts. Many of those accused in witch hunts were poor old women, and it''s suggested that much of the witches'' ''maleficium'' was merely herbal remedies or tricks."


    "That study caused quite a stir at the time," Edwin murmured with a nod.


    "How many innocent people suffered because of misunderstanding and fear. Just imagining it terrifies me. But I also became interested in why people believed so fervently in witches," Alicia''s words gradually became more passionate.


    "The next one I read was ''Saducismus Triumphatus''. Such unbelievable magic... While it was chilling, I found myself wondering: what if such power really existed?"


    Edwin thoughtfully stroked his beard. "Those are indeed interesting materials. However, Joseph Glanvill is an author who requires careful reading. What about plays? There are some famous works too."


    "I love Shakespeare. You quoted him earlier, didn''t you, sir?" Alicia responded happily. "I''ve seen ''Macbeth'' many times. The witches are so powerful, central figures that drive the story. They make terrible, ominous prophecies, yet spur people to action. Contemplating the interpretation of their actions and motives is one of my most enjoyable pastimes."


    "Hey, Alicia," I asked, seizing a gap in the conversation. "Aren''t the witches in these stories portrayed as villains? Why do you admire such people?" This was my honest feeling.


    "Sith, it''s like this," Alicia looked at me and began to explain like an elder.

 Jenseits von Gut und B?se (Part 2)

    "Indeed, in most literature and plays, witches are portrayed as evil. No, that''s not quite right. They''re portrayed as more than evil. The unknown power of plants, the natural power that humans have lost through education, the power of fate determined by the gods. They are beings who can manipulate and use such things for the benefit of people."


    "For the benefit of people? But that''s not what the pastor says," I felt a bit like arguing against Alicia''s adult-like attitude. "He says that witches'' magic is evil that distorts the order established by God."


    "Oh Sith, don''t be so dull. Isn''t that rather one-sided? Is that really your own opinion?" Alicia''s eyes widened, and she pursed her well-shaped lips.


    "You''re being one-sided too, Alicia," I argued back.


    "I want to hear Sith''s opinion, not the pastor''s."


    "Now, now," Edwin intervened in the argument."According to records, the period when persecution of witches was most prevalent was about 100 years ago. It was concentrated in rural areas and mountainous regions. It''s not surprising if it differs from urban sensibilities. However, there are still reports of persecution in rural areas. There are regions where witch hunters and witch finders, who have the right of judicial petition under the recognition of lords and churches, are active. Witch hunters are particularly terrifying. Delegated unique pre-trial procedures by the lords, they carry silver swords and torture instruments, and directly investigate witches."


    Alicia and I swallowed hard at the same time.


    "Fortunately, there have been no such incidents in Ravensbrook, but many adults have an aversion to ''witches'' and ''magic''. Be careful how you talk about it outside," Edwin gently advised, and Alicia nodded, saying "Yes."


    "Now, let''s think about this. Both of your opinions have merit. Demonologists'' texts say, ''Witches make pacts with the devil and bring about calamities.'' But in recent years, another view has emerged. There''s a claim that witches are ''wise women'' who use knowledge and medicine to treat people. Although this view is still quite rare."


    Both Alicia and I were captivated by the term ''wise women''.


    "Which side is closer to the truth? Here, the Eastern natural philosophy I''ve been studying might be useful. That is, a perspective that sees the world not as a conflict between good and evil, but as a balance of opposing forces," Edwin continued, looking back and forth between our faces.


    "In Caldoria and its neighbouring countries where we live, the world is perceived in terms of opposing concepts. For example, light and darkness, purity and impurity, good and evil, teacher and disciple, adult and child. But Eastern philosophy doesn''t think that way. It suggests that concepts that seem to be in opposition are often two sides of the same coin, indispensable for each other''s existence."


    Alicia was deep in thought, with a serious expression on her face in response to Edwin''s explanation.


    Edwin leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms thoughtfully. "Think about it. Can you understand light without knowing darkness? Can you understand joy without experiencing sorrow? Look at you two. You might seem to be expressing opposing opinions, but you''re interconnected, complementing each other."


    Alicia and I looked at each other. Edwin''s words were difficult to grasp, but the idea that we were "interconnected" evoked a strange, ticklish sensation. I felt embarrassed and hurriedly turned my face away.


    "In fact, I think the same might be true of the magic that witches are said to use," Edwin''s words suddenly brought me back to reality. "For example, ''The Malleus Maleficarum'' states that witches use ''maleficium'' to wither plants. But what if the target was, say, grass that saps nutrients from wheat? Wouldn''t the wheat grow better than ever on a farm with less weeds?" This was a new perspective for me.


    "This is ''The Melancholy of Witches.'' It''s a rare text that deals with witches outside of our Caldoria," Edwin said, taking out a thick leather-bound book from the lectern.


    "It presents an interesting view on the abilities and characteristics of witches. Namely, it suggests that the magic wielded by witches perceives our world in three realms. The Ideal Realm where the souls of humans, spirits, and demons govern the mind; the Material Realm where wood, fire, and earth govern nature; and the Phenomenal Realm where the liquids flowing through living things govern the body. The book''s perspective is that witches'' magic is the supernatural power exerted by controlling and harmonising these three concepts that we cannot perceive."


    Alicia leaned forward, gazing intently at ''The Melancholy of Witches.'' I peeked over her shoulder, but I couldn''t even tell what language it was written in.


    "Three realms? How do witches control them? Is magic a real phenomenon?" Alicia seemed unusually excited.


    "Unfortunately, that''s still unknown. According to this book, it seems there are unique techniques corresponding to each realm. Language, rituals, drugs... It seems they exert positive and negative influences through such means. The most familiar might be herbal medicine."


    "Language? Rituals? How are these methods carried out specifically?" Alicia pierced Edwin with a serious gaze. "If we knew these, could we do it? Could we use magic?"


    I was so surprised by her unusual intensity that I lost my voice.


    "Miss Hunt, calm down," Edwin met her gaze, interlacing his fingers on his knee. "If you intend to dedicate yourself to academic ethics, that''s not quite the right question. What we must be most careful of is setting up the conclusion we want to see first, and then manipulating evidence and logic as a means to that end."


    Edwin slowly chose his words. "Do you want to gain correct knowledge about witches? Or are you perhaps saying you want to become a witch and use magic?"


    "I..." Alicia hesitated. She frowned, her mouth set in a firm line. The fiery passion she had shown earlier had subsided, and she looked dejected, like me when scolded by my mother. She had been reprimanded by Edwin.


    Unable to bear seeing her downcast figure, I shot Edwin a resentful look. Noticing this, Edwin cleared his throat lightly.


    "I went too far. Miss Hunt, I apologise. ...I understand your interest well. Witches and magic are indeed very fascinating topics. That''s precisely why we must not forget to maintain an appropriate distance. If you''d like, come here again with Sith. We''ll look at my collection and talk about the latest research trends."


    Alicia''s face suddenly brightened.


    "Yes, I''d love to!"


    ***


    That night, I had a dream.


    I was trying to enter a distant town. A town surrounded by harsh mountains and valleys. In the distance, I could see a church spire.


    It was the same scene I had seen that day in Valentine''s shop. Fields of rye and oats spread out before me. Some were poorly developed and weak. Barren land. People with gloomy expressions.


    In that dream, I was a man. Waiting for someone at the entrance of the town.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation."Bradley," a woman next to me said worriedly to the "me" in the dream. Her beautiful golden hair cascaded down, but her complexion was pale and she was thin.


    "Francesca," Bradley, or rather "I", spoke gently. "Don''t worry. Old Mrs. Dummigan is an excellent apothecary. If she sees us, I''m sure we''ll be blessed with a child too." Saying this, he gently stroked Francesca''s hair.


    A man came to greet us. Led by him, we enter the town. Dilapidated fences. Narrow, winding roads. Crowded houses, hushed conversations heard from their windows.


    We walk through the town, the three of us. We pass by a large but old mill. A high-pitched sound accompanies the slow rotation of the wheel. It''s as if the wood is screaming. It must not have been maintained for years. I see a rat running along the corner of the building. The flour dust floating in the air clings to our clothes.


    Eventually, we reach the centre. It''s a square. Roads radiate outward from it.


    "Is this under construction?" Bradley asked about the object set up in the centre of the square. A wooden post. The remains of something dismantled?


    "It''s a replacement for the hardworking tree," the man replied vaguely.


    We arrive at a house. The owners, an elderly couple, a boy, a girl.


    "Welcome to the Dummigan house," the owner nods his head. Bradley and Francesca bow. They seem to be welcomed. Francesca quietly sighs in relief. Seeing this, Bradley also feels a little reassured.


    As we carry luggage to the room, I feel a tug on my sleeve. I turn around. It''s the girl from earlier.


    "Hey, did you see it?"


    See what?


    "If you came from outside town, you must have seen it, right? Even birds don''t nest there."


    There?


    The girl smiled innocently.


    "The hanging tree."


    ***


    I woke up with a pain in my left hand. I was out of breath and drenched in sweat. The linen shift felt rough against my skin. Dawn light was streaming through the window.


    For a while, I didn''t know who I was. As I opened and closed my fingers, I gradually became aware that I was Sith Cumaill.


    After steadying my breath, I looked at my left hand where the pain had been. There wasn¡¯t a mark in sight.


    Next to me, my sister Hannah was breathing quietly in her sleep. Being careful not to disturb her, I gently brushed back her chestnut hair. Seeing her peaceful sleeping face, I felt a little relieved.


    It had been such a vivid dream. The damp earthy smell that pervaded the town and the post that stood in the square still felt as if they were right in front of me. It had an eerie presence.


    I check the curtains on the window. There, a folded piece of linen cloth was sewn in inconspicuously. There''s a faint scent of rowan berries. The charm my mother made for me was safe.


    I went downstairs as quietly as possible. When I got to the kitchen, Mother was already up, kneading the dough for the day''s bread.


    "Sith?" Mother said, surprised. "You''re up very early."


    I nodded silently. Just as I thought I should say something, Mother wiped her hands on her apron and came in front of me. Then, she gently placed her warm, thick hand on my cheek.


    "You had a dream, didn''t you?" Mother asked softly.


    I nodded silently again. It felt as if Mother''s kindness was seeping into my body through her body heat. I was hugging Mother''s body like a small child.


    There was a moment of silence.


    "Mom, I''m scared," I whispered into Mother''s chest.


    Mother slowly stroked my cheek with her thumb. "My beloved child. Sith. What are you afraid of?"


    "I don''t want to lose anything."


    "What?"


    Various people''s faces floated in my mind. Father and Mother, Hannah. Valentine, Flannery, Edwin, the people of Ravensbrook. The girl with fiery red hair. And... the thin woman with golden hair...


    Confused by my own memories, I rubbed my head against Mother''s chest. It smelled of flour. It must have been on her apron.


    "Everyone."


    "Sith, no one is going to disappear. It''s alright."


    I could hear birds chirping outside. A new day was about to begin.


    "Hey, Mom," I said.


    "What is it?"


    "Are witches really evil beings?"


    Mother didn''t answer.


    "Are we evil beings, and is our power something that distorts God''s order? Why are we-"


    "Sith," Mother grabbed my shoulders and pulled me away from her chest. "Stop using that word. The word that starts with ''wit'' that you just said. Understand? It''s not for us to decide what''s good or evil," she said in a sharp voice. "What''s important is that ''this existence'' has received a ''verdict'' of being evil. There''s no reason for it, and nothing to think about. To live happily, you see. All we can do is make sure no one realises that we are beings who have received that ''verdict''."


    "But," I persisted. "There are people who say that witches aren''t necessarily evil, that they''re helping people."


    "I told you to stop using that word!" Mother''s words made my body jump. It was a quiet but angry tone.


    "Sith, I don''t know who you heard such talk from, but that''s not reality. It''s just idle talk. I heard it many times from my mother, your grandmother. How terribly our family has been treated, how frightening things we''ve endured."


    Mother''s eyes held a dark, intense light. It was as if a black, terrifying flame was burning in her pupils.


    "Fingers crushed to pieces, joints broken as the whole body was stretched, forced to sign confessions without knowing what crime we had committed, burned alive," I felt a blood-curdling terror at Mother''s horrifying words.


    "What''s just as frightening, Sith, is that it wasn''t just our kind who suffered such fates. Most of the people who were turned into quivering masses like wet flour on the rack were different from us, innocent ordinary people. Do you understand what this means?"


    "We... involved innocent people as collateral damage...?" I answered, trembling.


    "No, Sith. No," Mother laughed as if amused. "It''s what I just said. This is, Sith, a ''verdict''. A ''verdict'' doesn''t choose anything. Whether we have different powers than others, or such blood flows in us, that doesn''t matter. It just distinguishes. Understand? There''s no reason for being evil. We''re evil because we''re seen as evil. For those seen as evil, their very existence, their living is a sin."


    I couldn''t quite understand Mother''s words. Only her hatred and painful feelings were conveyed to my heart. That made me sad.


    Mother was crying. I was crying too.


    "Sith," Mother hugged me tightly. "I''m sorry for frightening you. Sith. You''ve done nothing wrong. What I wanted to say is that we''re not in a position to think about or express opinions on good and evil. There''s no need to think about anything. We just need to behave as if we''re not noticeable, as if we''re not there, so we don''t catch the eye of the ''verdict''. That''s what living means."


    Saying this, Mother kissed my forehead. I think this was her way of being kind. But I couldn''t agree with some of Mother''s words. Why did innocent people have to suffer such terrible fates? Why did Grandmother and the others tell their daughters such painful memories? Why aren''t we allowed to have thoughts about this? I couldn''t agree with any of it.


    Nevertheless, I couldn''t express this. I didn''t know what to say or what to do. I could only nod silently while crying. Mother hugged me even tighter than before.


    I''m acting against my own feelings. Tainted. I''m so tainted. If this isn''t evil, then what is?


    Could Alicia do it? Could she throw different words at Mother?


    For the first time, I understood that there was an insurmountable chasm between myself and the rest of the world. I was far removed from the world Mother had carried on her shoulders, from the world where Alicia lived, from the world Edwin spoke of.


    There was only one fact. The blood of Mother''s family flows in me too.


    I am a witch.


    A few days later, I heard a strange rumour circulating in Ravensbrook. They say someone has come from outside town to search for witches. This man carries a silver sword.

 Like the leaves, as the seasons pass

    The days were growing shorter, and the air carried a chill. The piercing summer sun was fading, giving way to autumn''s first whispers.


    Word had spread of a man carrying a silver sword. Perhaps it was merely a rumor. I found myself wishing it would blow away with the autumn winds.


    Sturdy fishing boats crowded the harbour, while Market Street began to display its seasonal bounty of pumpkins and apples. The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted from Aunt Thornberry''s bakery, somehow more enticing in the cooler weather. At the tailor''s shop, customers ran their fingers over thick woollen fabrics, testing their quality. Church bells rang out, speaking of harvest and preparation. Everyone was readying themselves for the seasons ahead.


    The town had taken on a newfound bustle, yet I couldn''t shake the feeling that winter might arrive earlier than last year.


    Each morning, a white mist clung to the cobblestones like a living thing. The damp stones seemed to swallow footsteps, while the salt-laden sea breeze pierced through clothing, chilling to the marrow. I''d experienced this before. Such weather invariably heralded a harsh winter. The church bells tolled in the distance.


    Instinctively, I drew my mother''s hand-me-down cloak and shawl tighter around myself.


    When I was small, Mother would often laugh at how I bundled up against the weather. ''You''ve got a special sensitivity to the movements of weather and nature''s forces,'' she''d say, her hand gentle on my head. The memory came with such clarity I could almost feel her touch.


    "Your grandmother was the same way. She possessed great power," Mother''s eyes would drift distant then, her expression a mixture of nostalgia and something harder to define.


    The Ideal Realm where souls held sway, the Material Realm governed by wood, fire, and earth, the Phenomenal Realm where bodily fluids ruled the physical form. Witches could perceive these three worlds, invisible to ordinary people. Edwin''s words from several weeks ago, when Alicia and I had visited him, echoed in my mind.


    Since then, those words had taken root deep within me. As I went about my daily life, experiences I''d previously overlooked began to connect with Edwin''s teachings. The currents flowing through me¡ªonce barely perceptible¡ªbegan to take shape in my consciousness, like a pattern emerging from fog.


    ***


    The next day, as I was restocking shelves in Valentine''s shop, I felt something like a small feather duster tickling my ear. When I turned to look, I glimpsed two women with their heads close together, partially hidden behind the spice display.


    I couldn''t make out what they were saying. They kept glancing around nervously, as if watching for eavesdroppers.


    Curious, I concentrated, trying to catch their words. A strange sensation pierced through me, like water flowing through my body. Warmth bloomed in my lower abdomen, spiralling upward, racing from my toes to my forehead in a dizzying circuit.


    As this odd current passed near my ears, I suddenly heard what sounded like a squirrel''s chittering.


    "...saw him at the tavern last night, that man. He was asking all sorts of questions..."


    Was this their conversation? Though the sounds were barely more than animal squeaks, somehow I understood their meaning. It was a peculiar sensation.


    "...asking about rumours...if anyone had attended gatherings..."


    "It''s awful. I heard too... marks of the devil''s kiss... on arms and shoulders..."


    "Surely not a witch hunt...?"


    "Shh! Keep your voice..."


    I nearly dropped the vase I was holding, my palms suddenly slick with sweat. The words stuck in my throat. A witch hunt? Here? In Ravensbrook? The very thought seemed to steal the air from my lungs. So it wasn''t just a rumour. I steadied my breathing and placed the vase on the shelf with trembling hands.


    A witch hunter prowling our streets, perhaps right nearby. Fear that had existed only in imagination suddenly became real, clutching at my heart. The mere thought of a witch hunter walking down Market Street sent ice through my veins.


    "Are you alright, Sith?" Valentine''s large hand came to rest on my shoulder. I noticed the small scars that years of trading had left there¡ªhands that had covered for my mistakes so many times.


    I realised I could no longer hear either the squirrel-like sounds or the women''s conversation.


    Though curious about those strange sounds, I forced a smile and nodded. "I''m sorry, Valentine. I was just lost in thought." I didn''t want to worry him. But he didn''t seem convinced. His brow furrowed slightly as he studied my face.


    "Something troubling you?"


    "No... it''s nothing."


    "You''re not telling me everything, are you?"


    "I''m sorry," Mother''s words flashed through my mind. Don''t think about anything. Act as if you''re invisible, as if you''re not even there...


    "Really... I''m fine," I managed to squeeze out.


    "I understand. Sorry for prying. I was just worried about you," Valentine sighed, his expression serious.


    To know someone cared so much about me¡ªValentine''s words lifted a small weight from my heart.


    "Thank you, Valentine."


    I said with my brightest smile.


    "Don''t mention it. Though if anything happens, it''ll come out of your wages. But please, just don''t drop that one! It''s incredibly expensive. I''m not sure a year''s work would cover it!"


    Valentine anxiously eyed the vase I had been holding earlier.


    Oh, so that''s what he was worried about... For a moment I felt deflated, but then I remembered how close I''d come to dropping it and shuddered. A whole year''s wages wouldn''t cover it?


    Trying my best to hide my dismay, I thumped my chest with my fist, declaring "Leave it to me!" The blow was harder than intended, and I ended up in a coughing fit.


    "What are you doing, Sith? You''re really not inspiring confidence here..." Valentine rubbed my back as I struggled to catch my breath. Fortunately, the rest of the day passed without incident.


    ***


    The following afternoon, grey clouds still blanketed the sky.


    At first, it was merely a whisper, like dry leaves scraping against each other. Then slowly, like water seeping through cloth, I realised the sound was forming words.


    ''The apple...''


    It had a hoarse, elderly quality to it.


    I was wandering absent-mindedly down Market Street at the time. Was someone calling me? I looked around, but saw no one who might have spoken.


    For some reason, I felt drawn to the voice and began wandering the street.


    "Miss Sith, little miss," I turned to find Flannery greeting me with his usual smile. "Looking for something? Lost puppy?"


    Without realising it, I had ended up in front of Flannery''s fruit shop. He was outside, carefully arranging apples and pears in baskets. Though he wore his usual kind smile, there seemed to be a shadow lurking behind it.


    "I was drawn in by the lovely smell of fruit,"


    I joked, trying to cheer him up. He gave a small laugh, but quickly sighed.


    "Have you heard the rumours? I used to think they were just fairy tales my grandmother told," Flannery''s voice trembled slightly. "What''s happening to our town? Witch hunters. They''re like a disease. When I was a child, they came to a village not far from here. Never saw my friend who lived there again. That''s what my grandmother told me."


    He shook his head and finished arranging the fruit, then began slowly watering the herbs under his eaves.


    "Sorry for such dark talk, little puppy. Even the herbs seem to be wilting."


    Witch hunter. That topic again.


    While my heart raced, I was more struck by Flannery''s expression. His sad look as he gazed at his flower bed. I''d seen this before...


    Yes.


    When I first came to Ravensbrook. After fighting with Mother or when something upset me, I often took solitary walks through the market. Aimless walks weighted with heavy thoughts. That''s when I noticed the sweet fragrance wafting through the street. Purple flowers. Standing in a flower bed. I stopped and silently gazed at them.


    "Just planted some lavender," said a man with a bushy beard, wiping sweat from his brow. Flannery had fewer wrinkles then. "They say it soothes troubled hearts."


    After giving a noncommittal response, I looked over the shop front.


    "Is this a fruit shop?"


    Flannery winked at my question.


    "That''s right. Might not look like it though."


    As I stared at the colourful herbs spreading from the pots in front of the store, Flannery stood beside me and added:


    "My wife loved them. What I said earlier¡ªthat was something she used to say."


    As he spoke, his face took on a slightly melancholic expression. The moment I saw that look, the herb fragrance seemed to take on a different, deeper, more complex character.


    "Are you going to water them? I''ll help!"


    The words spilled out before I knew it, noticing the watering can in Flannery''s hand. He looked at me and smiled, his laugh lines deepening to their fullest.


    "Thank you, little miss. In return, I''ll teach you their names. Starting here we have lavender, rosemary... oh dear, my mistake, I''m Flannery¡ªnot an herb name. And you''re... ah yes, Sith. Lovely name. Now, over here, this thyme..."


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    ''The apple...''


    The voiceless voice pulled me back to the present. It was clearer this time. Yet Flannery showed no reaction. Could only I hear it?


    I left the scene carrying several mysteries with me.


    ***


    As days passed, the whispers grew louder. Word spread of a stranger with a silver sword asking questions about town gossip and unexplained events. A peculiar duality settled over the town¡ªthe bustling excitement of harvest preparation existing alongside an atmosphere of tension and wariness.


    Market Street seemed to have expanded with its cheerful bustle, but step just one street inward and the world contracted¡ªthe passages narrowing, the shadows thickening like ink in water.


    Market vendors kept their conversations brief and hushed. People grew watchful when groups gathered, their eyes sharp and suspicious.


    Without quite realising when it had begun, I found myself able to hear rumours that should have been beyond my reach. Sometimes distant whispers and fragments of conversation reached my ears as clearly as if spoken nearby.


    Most often, they came as sounds reminiscent of small animals. When I concentrated, I could understand them as human speech. Just like that time in Valentine''s shop.


    "It was a darker time when we were young," I heard such comments around town. These words came from Ravensbrook''s elderly residents, their expressions tinged with an odd nostalgia.


    What was this "darker time" they spoke of? Try as I might, I could find no one to explain its meaning.


    ***


    "This is so exciting!" Alicia could barely contain her enthusiasm.


    It was a melancholy day of alternating sunshine and drizzle. We walked through town, silently willing the rain to hold off.


    "If there really is a witch hunter in town, it must mean there are real witches here. Don''t you think?" I responded to her question with a noncommittal "Maybe."


    "These beings I''ve only read about in books. Right here in Ravensbrook. A real witch hunter! I wonder what dangerous weapons and tools they carry? They must know about legends and secrets we''ve never heard of, ancient rituals we can''t imagine." Alicia tried to maintain a composed tone, but her snow-white cheeks had taken on a slight flush.


    I kept my eyes on the ground, watching my feet move across the uneven cobblestones.


    "He hasn''t come here to tell stories or put on performances," I said quietly. "If he really is a hunter. Remember what Edwin said? They''re terrifying predators."


    "From a hundred years ago," Alicia shrugged, then added. "But you''re right. I got carried away. I''m sorry." She bowed her head slightly, making her braided hair sway. It was tied with a simpler ribbon than usual.


    Noticing my gaze, Alicia smiled, looking slightly pleased.


    "Can you tell? I''ve started doing my own hair. Braiding is quite challenging," she said, touching her hair self-consciously while examining my braid. "Do you think people might mistake us for charming sisters?"


    Alicia wore a simple dress without cuffs, with a warm-coloured cape draped lightly over her shoulders. We both had braided hair and similar outfits.


    Of course, looking closely at Alicia''s dress, the linen was soft and lustrous, her cape showing no signs of repair. Though similar in style, they were worlds apart from my clothes.


    "I doubt it. I''m far from charming," I said mischievously.


    "Sith, I''ve told you before¡ªit''s not good to put yourself down."


    "I haven''t said anything about myself yet."


    "Oh... Was my outfit really that strange? I just wanted to match with you..." Alicia''s voice grew small as she lowered her head. My chest suddenly felt tight.


    "Alicia, I''m sorry. I didn''t mean it like that."


    I took a step toward her. She turned away, fidgeting with her hair through her gloves.


    "I spent all last night choosing this outfit, I was so looking forward to it..." Alicia''s voice trembled.


    "Alicia, I''m the one who isn''t charming. You''re lovely. I''m sorry for being so mean."


    "What''s lovely about me?"


    Caught off guard by the unexpected question, I stammered. "Well, um. Your small nose, and soft lips, like a porcelain doll. And you''re so educated and clever..."


    "What else?"


    "And, well... your beautiful hair... and you''re clever, and like a doll..."


    As I cast about desperately for words, Alicia suddenly turned to face me with a mischievous grin. "Sith, I''m flattered by all the compliments. But you really should read more books! I''ll borrow some from Father''s study for you." She stuck out her tongue playfully.


    I froze for a moment before realising her ploy.


    "Oh, you were teasing me!"


    "Hehe, just returning the favour."


    We stifled our laughter in the middle of the street. This always happened when I bantered with Alicia¡ªI''d end up losing. But somehow, I never minded.


    "Still, the hunter might know things beyond our understanding. That much must be true," Alicia said, returning to her earlier topic after our laughter subsided.


    "Perhaps," I replied noncommittally, avoiding her gaze.


    "Sith, I read something in Father''s study," Alicia said earnestly, meeting my evasive eyes. "There were prisoners chained in a cave who grew up seeing only shadows on the wall. They believed these shadows were real people. But if they were freed and taken outside..."


    Her words made my heart skip. After some thought, I replied, "Are you saying I''m the prisoner?"


    Alicia shook her head. Taking my hand, she continued:


    "The sudden brightness would be blinding. It would be frightening, seeing things that were invisible before. Like mice, they might scurry back into the cave. But what if someone was there with them? ... Sith, eyes adjust to the light eventually. We''re afraid because we''re seeing things differently than before. If it''s frightening, we need only understand it."


    Though our hands were gloved, I could feel her warmth flowing into me. Like snowmelt on a spring day, a warm, gentle current seemed to pass from her to me. The sensation tingled pleasantly, as if flowing from our joined hands through my shoulders, from my chest to my head, down to my feet and back to my heart again.


    In that moment, my mind cleared as if a fog had lifted. Though grasping what Alicia was trying to tell me was challenging, I found myself thinking harder than I ever had before.


    "How do we come to understand?"


    My question might have seemed foolish compared to Alicia''s wisdom. Yet remaining silent felt far more foolish.


    Curiously, Alicia blinked and looked skyward. When she registered my question, she turned her emerald green eyes directly to mine and said:


    "I think we need to put it into words."


    Put it into words. In the beginning was the word. These feelings of mine...


    I''m afraid. Yes, I''m afraid. Of Mother''s hatred, of strangers, of myself and the possibility of betraying someone.


    Her words gradually illuminated the depths of my heart that I''d been avoiding. Perhaps I needed to know more. About myself. And about the people around me.


    With this thought came a strange surge of optimism. While not all my fears and anxieties disappeared, I began to see, just slightly, what I needed to do.


    "Alicia, there''s something I want to tell you," I found myself saying.


    My words drew an expression from her that was both surprised and somehow knowing.


    "Why so formal all of sudden?"


    "Well..." I faltered, images of Mother, Father, and my sister flashing through my mind. "I can''t tell you just yet. But when the time comes, I want you to listen."


    Realising I might be putting my family in danger, I quickly backtracked. I wasn''t ready to reveal my secret to her yet.


    For that...


    "Alicia, I need to go somewhere!"


    She watched my excited state with a puzzled expression.


    "Strange Sith," she said with a smile as I bid her farewell and took off running.


    ***


    "Mr. Flannery, do you have a stove at home?"


    "Eh? Well, of course I do." Flannery''s eyes widened at both my sudden appearance and unexpected question as I stood there catching my breath.


    Between pants, I managed to get my message across:


    "Please put some apples on your stove. Maybe before bed at night. I''m sure the herbs will be livelier in the morning!"


    I grabbed his hand, adding, "They''ll definitely perk up, so please try it!"


    Leaving Flannery looking as if he''d seen a fairy, I started running again.


    I didn''t understand why. I just needed to run. With each step, my body sensed something new. The cobblestones beneath my feet, the autumn air filling my lungs, my heartbeat¡ªeverything felt sharper, more vivid than before. My untrained legs quickly tangled, my breathing grew ragged. Wheezing with each breath, barely distinguishing between running and walking, I thought.


    The prisoner in the cave. That was me. Living in a dark cellar, watching only my own shadow. But Alicia''s light had illuminated the exit. Gradually, I was beginning to see what lay beyond.


    What existed on the other side that I hadn''t seen before?


    I didn''t know. I''d never even tried to look. But surely there was a path. A path to becoming someone different from the prisoner I''d been. I wanted to move forward. I wanted to know what lay ahead.


    I stumbled and fell when I reached the square in front of the town hall. Fortunately, I landed on dirt, only dirtying my skirt. Remaining on my knees, I focused on simply breathing in and out.


    Had I gone mad? Others might think so. But unlike before, I found myself strangely unconcerned with what people might think.


    My stomach ached from running too much. Yet I was so excited I felt I could start running again after a brief rest. In this mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration at being driven by some unknown force, I listened intently to the fierce pounding of my own heart.


    ***


    I was standing at the threshold of understanding myself. Yet like shadows glimpsed at twilight, these insights remained vague and just beyond my reach. There was another meaning to the cave allegory. But I would need more time before I could grasp it.

 The Unravelling

    Night. A different sort of time flows here compared to daylight hours. There are moments when the very essence of the town seems to shift.


    Like now. The clamour from the distant tavern fades away, giving way to the chirping of crickets in gardens and the patter of mice scurrying along the eaves.


    The harbour bell tolls eight times, marking the change of the dockworkers'' watch. One, two. The first notes ring clear and sharp. Water in a barrel ripples slightly. Four, five. From the edge of the distant forest comes the call of a night-jar. Seven, eight. The bell''s sound grows fainter, absorbed by the fog and cobblestones.


    The town now belongs to beings other than humans.


    After my father finished his evening prayers and his creaking footsteps could no longer be heard, I slowly counted my own heartbeats. After forty beats, I carefully slipped out of bed, taking care not to wake Hannah. Listening to my sister''s soft breathing, I wrapped a shawl around myself and cautiously descended the stairs, making my way to the garden without a sound.


    The night garden was chilly, as if winter had arrived early. Dew had collected in Mother''s herb garden, making the clumps of sage and thyme sway gently. As I passed through, cold droplets dampened the hem of my nightgown.


    At the back of the garden, nestled against the trunk of an old oak, stood a storage shed.


    This time of year, it should have been filled with garden tools, strings of onions, and winter apples wrapped in straw. But tonight was different.


    When I opened the door, Mother was inside. The damp scent of the dewy garden mingled with the dry aroma of the shed.


    As I entered and carefully closed the door behind me, the bright red rowan berries hanging on the inside rustled dryly.


    "Keep them hanging when you''re inside," Mother said, moving aside a tool rack and root vegetables. "Rosemary, rue, thyme, wormwood. They all ward off evil."


    "Yes, thank you."


    Looking at Mother, I felt I should have come earlier. I''d left her to do all the tidying herself.


    Having finished storing away flower pots and Father''s pruning shears, Mother dusted off her apron. Noticing me, she pulled me close and kissed my forehead. My skin, chilled by the night air, warmed slightly. A candle flickered in the corner of the room.


    "This came from your grandmother," Mother gazed at a weathered box placed in the centre of the shed.


    Even in the dim candlelight, I could see its deep brown-stained wood grain. It looked just large enough that I could carry it with both arms. Perhaps due to the sea air, its sides appeared slightly warped. Upon closer inspection, I noticed there were no nails or metal fittings to be seen.


    "Your grandmother received it from her grandmother. And her grandmother surely the same. It''s always been this way when we learn about our power. That''s how it''s been passed down."


    Mother spoke as if looking into the distance.


    I have memories of playing with Grandmother when I was very small. I haven''t seen her in years.


    "It must be precious to you."


    "You can''t imagine how many times I''ve thought of throwing it away," Mother snorted in response.


    Unsure how to react, I let silence fall between us.


    "You said you could see small creatures," Mother suddenly broached the subject.


    I nodded. "Sometimes I see tiny beings in houses. Not just our home, but in other people''s houses and gardens too. I saw one at Flannery''s house. But it seems only I can see them."


    "What sort of creatures?"


    "They have beards, like tiny old men. When they notice me, they hide in the hearth. Some wave at me."


    "Domovoi," Mother murmured, looking around before crossing her arms.


    I was taken aback¡ªI''d expected her to be sceptical at first.


    "They protect the home. You haven''t been teasing them, have you?" Mother''s tone was accusatory.


    "No, I haven''t! I told the one at Flannery''s house¡ªthat domovoi?¡ªto be given apples. It seemed hungry."


    "That''s good then."


    The hardness left Mother''s expression, and I felt a wave of relief.


    Mother crouched before the box and carefully traced its side with her finger. She must have touched a hidden latch, for I thought I heard a faint click. The lid rose silently, releasing the scent of dry wood and rowan berries.


    Inside were small bottles wrapped in linen, numerous little pouches, a brown metal bowl, measuring instruments whose purpose I couldn''t determine by sight, and various other tools. Mother efficiently arranged and organised them.


    "You said it seemed hungry?" Mother asked, as if something had just occurred to her.


    "Yes."


    "How did you know?"


    "Because it told me so itself."


    "You understand what the domovoi says?"


    "Sort of... in a way."


    Mother pulled out a bundle of chalk from a bag, examined it, then put it back.


    "So that''s why. That''s why you suddenly wanted to learn about our power." Her voice sounded calmer now.


    That''s why? I found her phrasing puzzling, but she didn''t seem opposed to the idea.


    "I''m sorry for acting on my own."


    "Well," Mother took out several books as large as my face from the box, blowing away the dust. "Spirits can be our allies if we get along with them well. They help us stay hidden."


    There was something almost cheerful in Mother''s demeanour as she organised the various items. Suddenly, I remembered going to the early morning market with her when I was little.


    ("Choose the most vigorous herbs, Sith. Do you know how to tell? Pick leaves that are deep in colour and seem to repel water.")


    My sister Hannah and I couldn''t keep up with Mother''s confident movements as she selected herbs...


    It was nice to see Mother so animated. Especially after how downcast she''d been about the witch hunter rumours.


    But I was conflicted. Staying hidden... saying nothing unnecessary...


    When had I first begun to see the domovoi? When had I started hearing strange voices in town? I wanted to know what they were. But not just that.


    "I want to know. About myself, about us. About being witches."


    The words had escaped my lips before I knew it. I thought I saw Mother''s ears twitch.


    "I have a friend. Alicia, the one I told you about? I want to be like her. She''s always so composed, intelligent, and wonderful. She reads so many books."


    "We don''t have that kind of money," Mother replied curtly.


    "Mother, that''s not it. I''m not talking about money. I just want to look outward more..."


    "You still don''t understand!" Mother cut me off sharply. In the dim shed, I thought I saw a dull light emanate from her eyes. Her intensity made me tremble. I clutched my cape tightly.


    "What''s wrong with living quietly and keeping to ourselves? Do you want to say you''re unhappy by comparing yourself to others? We''re already letting you learn reading and writing with Mr. Edwin," Mother rattled off rapidly. "I told you, we live in the shadows, unseen by anyone. Why let yourself be seduced by the dreams of some wealthy young lady! Why must you trouble me like this?"


    Mother was furious. Something in my words had triggered her.


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    My face grew hot and my vision narrowed. Before I knew it, tears were streaming down my cheeks.


    Why do I cry so easily?


    Because Mother is angry?


    No. It''s because her words were hurting me, Alicia, and Mother herself.


    I''m scared. I should apologise right away. I''m sorry, it was my fault. I said things I didn''t mean. I''ll never use the word "witch" again.


    That would mend things quickly.


    "If it''s frightening, we need only understand it." That''s what Alicia had said. Chained prisoners fear the light. I''m afraid. So what should I do?


    "I think we need to put it into words."


    I swallowed hard and clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms.


    "I just want to face forward in life."


    Through tear-blurred vision, I stared steadily at Mother.


    "I don''t want to be seen by others or live luxuriously. I don''t want to get in your way! ... I just want to live with confidence in what I do. To walk in the light with my head held high. I want to be able to say, ''I am Sith Cumaill.''"


    Mother said nothing, just silently watching me. The faint candlelight wavered, making her shadow grow and shrink. In the dim shed, only her eyes seemed to have a clear presence.


    My left hand began to tingle sharply. The stinging sensation travelled deep into my body, coursing through every part of me. When it reached my chest, it awakened a succession of sensations within me. A burning pain followed by a cold like being doused with water from a winter bucket. Then it was as if a wind blew it all away, leaving only embers like those remaining in a hearth. They barely smouldered, but were just a little warm.


    My left hand had occasionally tingled since childhood. In that moment, I suddenly understood. This was my power. This sensation was surely Mother''s heart. Anger and...


    In an instant, it all vanished. Only Mother and I remained, facing each other in the storage shed.


    "Do as you please."


    That was all Mother said before leaving the shed. In the candlelight''s shadow, I couldn''t make out her expression. But her gestures and movements seemed no different than usual.


    Left alone, I cried a little longer, biting my cape sleeve to muffle the sound.


    After a while, the tears stopped. Exhausted from crying, even thinking became a burden. I decided to start by organising the tools left by my grandmother and mother.


    From that day, I began training my power.


    ***


    Several days later, one Sunday afternoon after worship, I was taking a walk through town with Alicia for the first time in a while.


    "It''s warmer than usual today," I said, holding down Mother''s hand-me-down shawl. The sun had been out since morning, making this light attire just right.


    "You look sleepy, Sith," Alicia smiled. The sunlight sparkled in her red hair, making it look even more beautiful than usual.


    "Yes, I''ve been staying up late recently."


    "Could it be you''ve been thinking about some charming young man?" Alicia gave a mischievous grin.


    "Not a charming man... but a woman..."


    "Oh? I''ve read novels like that too. Sith, I didn''t know you had such interests?" Alicia''s eyes suddenly widened.


    I thought of the storage shed with its flickering candlelight. Mother''s angry face. The shadows of herbs swaying on the door. Grandmother''s wooden box with its nostalgic scent.


    Was Mother still angry? When we met in the kitchen the next morning, filled with the aroma of baking bread, she said nothing. Neither of us mentioned what had happened. It was always like this after we argued. Thinking back on it made my chest tighten slightly.


    But at the same time, I sensed something else within myself. I had put my feelings into words. Clumsy as they might have been, I felt a small measure of pride.


    I wanted to convey this change to Alicia somehow, but struggled to find the right words.


    "I''ve... started studying," I said hesitantly.


    "Studying what?"


    "How to explain... power, I suppose..."


    "Pardon?"


    "About myself, really."


    "Well... that''s wonderful! Yes! Love certainly takes many forms. Even Socrates and Plato had... same-sex... partners, I believe."


    Seeing Alicia''s bewildered expression tinged with embarrassment, I suddenly found her endearing.


    What I am, what powers I possess. I wanted to explain it to her in my own words. I wanted her to know me. I might be ignorant of Socrates and Plato, but I felt I was on the verge of discovering something uniquely mine.


    "When my studies progress a bit more, I''ll show you the results, Alicia!"


    Just wait a little longer, I thought, gazing into her eyes.


    "Well... I''m not well-versed in such matters myself..." Alicia''s cheeks reddened as she returned my gaze, clearly misinterpreting my enthusiasm.


    "Little puppy!"


    I turned toward the sudden voice to see Flannery waving with a smile.


    "They''ve completely recovered. The herbs I had displayed in the shop, I mean."


    Flannery''s voice was lively, his familiar laugh lines spreading across his face. Alicia, her flustered demeanour from moments ago vanished, gave a perfectly elegant greeting, lifting the hem of her skirt slightly.


    "Hello, the little doll is with you too," Flannery responded, tipping his hat.


    "Little puppy, I placed apple pieces on the hearth just as you said. Every night before bed, I make the request. Since then, my flowers have gradually regained their vitality."


    "Little puppy, what miracle have you worked?" Alicia teased.


    "It''s nothing special... I just read it in a picture book my sister has. If you feed the spirits in your house, they''ll bring good fortune," I mumbled, suddenly feeling self-conscious.


    "You two are always so close, I envy you," Flannery smiled at us. "Trying it reminded me¡ªwhen I was a child, my grandmother often did the same. I thought she was being strange back then. Perhaps the spirits really did answer her."


    Flannery enthusiastically described how vibrantly the mint he''d planted at summer''s end had leafed out. Alicia responded perfectly, drawing him into conversation. They became quite animated discussing planting sequences, insects beneficial to flowers, and other knowledge I wasn''t familiar with.


    After they had chatted for some time, Flannery took two fresh apples from his basket and handed one to each of us.


    "Both of you, please come visit sometime. I''ll let you pick as many herbs as you like."


    He returned to his shop with those words.


    As we waved goodbye to Flannery, I found myself curious about Alicia''s expression. Glancing over, I thought I saw a shadow briefly cross her face. But Alicia quickly noticed and smiled back at me.


    The bells tolled the end of midday. Clouds dimmed the brilliant sunlight, and the wind carried a wintry chill. The warm day was swept away by the sea breeze, as if it had been merely winter''s passing whim.


    ***


    Around the time the usual bell tolled eight times. The hour for power training had arrived.


    During the first few days after beginning my training, I started by taking everything out of the "study box" and organising it.


    At first, I arranged items one by one on the work table. But I soon ran out of space, so I spread an old apron on the swept floor. I began creating an inventory, recording each item in a notebook.


    Ten animal bones, three copper bowls, a brass scale, twenty pieces of chalk...


    These items particularly caught my eye:


    Four bundles of parchment covered with complex diagrams. Seven thick books bound in stiff leather. Three small knives with blunted, blackened blades. When I held these objects, I felt a slight vibration pass through my fingertips.


    There were also sweet-smelling candles, glass bottles, and dolls. The notebook pages filled rapidly.


    Strangely, even though I would neatly arrange everything back in the "study box," when I opened it the next day, the contents seemed somehow different. Nevertheless, after repeating this process about three times, I grew familiar with the tools and began to feel attached to them.


    Having completed the inventory, I turned to the books. Besides volumes with complex diagrams and numbers, there were also guidebook-like tomes about plants and brewing methods. But many contained words I couldn''t read. Of the seven books, only three seemed remotely comprehensible.


    Written like letters addressed to someone, they felt like connected stories. I progressed through the pages little by little, reading these books and occasionally organising the "study box" when my concentration waned.


    After reading the first book for several days, I began to grasp what it was trying to convey. Words that seemed to be names of people, countries, or places appeared to refer to something else entirely.


    For instance, there was a story like this:


    Separate, distinct countries began to interact through canals. They started by exchanging goods, then developed common words and gestures. A plant worthless in one country proved to be a valuable medicinal herb in another. Through exchange, things acquired value. And people and countries began to develop roles...


    Suddenly, it occurred to me that these countries connected by canals might represent the human body. And I felt my previous understanding rearranging itself like building blocks. Valuable items weren''t exchanged. Rather, the exchange itself created value. The same applied to countries. By connecting, they first became countries. Surely the same was true for people.


    This book was surely telling me to feel these connections.


    Without warning, I noticed my hands seemed to be faintly glowing. The luminescence pulsated like a heartbeat, circulating from my right hand to my left, throughout my body. The more I focused, the clearer I could see the flow. It was dim yet distinct, faint yet powerful. It resembled moonlight streaming through gaps in the storage shed''s roof.


    I closed the book, captivated by this spectacle of luminous mist.


    That night, even after returning to my room, I was too excited to fall asleep. My senses were so heightened that I could clearly hear Hannah''s breathing and the pitter-patter of mice outside.


    The next morning, I couldn''t tell whether I had slept well or not. But I quickly dressed, put on my boots, washed my face, completed my morning routine, and went outside.


    Though the scene was familiar, it was somehow different.


    Threading between the morning sunbeams throughout town, thin wisps of luminous mist floated. This mist extended to the window of the house opposite ours. Following it with my focused gaze, I caught a glimpse of a small creature, similar to what I''d seen at Flannery''s house.


    Throughout Ravensbrook, I could see glimpses of the luminous mist. Sometimes at its end I would see a domovoi or similar small being; other times it connected to people or plants.


    Concentrating on the mist revealed things previously invisible to me. For example, some people had mist smouldering around them like smoke¡ªlooking closer, I could see they had injured arms. When I focused while immersed in the mist, I could hear sounds or voices emanating from its source.


    Surely this was the flow of power. The same light flowing through my body appeared in others and in the tiny creatures only I could see. And I could sense the beings at the end of these flows.


    Once I noticed it, it seemed to have been there all along, so natural that I wondered why I hadn''t perceived these power flows before.


    The world seemed to invert itself, and I felt an overwhelming sense of omnipotence, as if everything fit within my hands. More, I wanted to know more. What could I do? More.


    Suddenly I realised I was looking at the sky. I had fallen backward and was dizzy. My mouth felt sticky. My nose was bleeding. I tried to call for help, but no sound came out. I lost consciousness, surrounded by the spinning sky and mist.


    When I opened my eyes, I was lying in my bed at home. My vision was still blurred from dizziness. From their voices and face shapes, I could tell Mother and Hannah were peering down at me, their expressions concerned, I thought.


    Noticing I had awakened, Mother immediately told Hannah to fetch water.


    I tried to say something to Mother, but my tongue wouldn''t cooperate. I attempted to sit up, but everything spun around me and I had no strength.


    "Power isn''t infinite," Mother said, wiping my forehead with a cloth.


    "You need to learn control methods. It''s all written down properly. Read to the end of the chapter before finishing for the day. And try to avoid going outside as much as possible."


    I wanted to apologise, but could only plead with my eyes. I heard Hannah running back up the stairs.


    "I collapsed like that too, when I first started," Mother said.


    Though she was scolding me, her voice sounded oddly cheerful. Mother''s hazy figure... I wondered what expression she wore...


    Hannah brought a bucket of water, but nearly tripped as she entered the room, splashing water on my face.


    After about three days, I could get up on my own again.

 "Opening the Door"

    "I heard you collapsed with a nosebleed?"


    When I opened the door, there stood Alicia, holding a large basket. I was stunned, my mouth dropping open. This was the first time she had ever visited my home. Instead of her usual fine dress, she wore something simpler and more practical¡ªsimilar to what Mother might wear for gardening.


    "If you''d told me you were coming, I would have met you."


    "Please forgive my unexpected visit, Miss Cumaill," Alicia said with a refined bow, carefully wiping her feet on the mud scraper by the entrance. "I ought to pay my respects to your parents, but today I''m merely delivering a medicine box."


    Her smile was sculpted to perfection, her gestures and manners exemplary.


    "Um, Mother and my sister have gone to help with canvas sewing. Father''s at work. It''s just me here now," I finally managed to reply after blinking several times, unsure how to respond.


    "Is that so, Sith? That''s fine then! I only came to bring you something. Don''t trouble yourself. May I come in for a moment?" This was the Alicia I knew.


    "O-of course!"


    "I''m sorry I couldn''t visit you sooner. It''s been difficult to go out lately. You know... with the rumours of the hunter?"


    As I moved toward the kitchen to prepare a drink, Alicia motioned for me to stay seated. She placed her basket on the dining table. A sharp, herbal scent filled the room.


    "This is nettle infusion, steeped for exactly twelve hours. It will replenish your iron. According to legend, nettles gathered three days before or after a full moon are particularly potent. So says Pliny in his ''Natural History''," Alicia explained, producing a tin medicine bottle filled with a deep forest-green liquid. "And here''s yarrow and lady''s mantle. They''re known as women''s friends. I''ve also included some rare spice blends that Mother acquired from an East India Company merchant."


    "W-wait! Yarrow... women''s friends? I can''t remember all this!"


    "Don''t worry. I''ll leave you notes. Drink the yarrow as tea when your stomach hurts and you have no appetite, or when you have a fever. Though it tastes dreadful. Alchemists are particularly fond of lady''s mantle. Look at these leaves. The morning dew forms like droplets of mercury... But more importantly, how are you feeling now?"


    She efficiently questioned me about my condition: my monthly cycle, appetite, what I''d been eating. As I answered, she sorted through herbs with practised movements.


    "Herbs can be either poison or medicine depending on what you normally eat and your physical condition. Just like Socrates in Greece."


    I remained silent, watching Alicia''s precise, delicate fingers, still feeling slightly dizzy.


    I still retained that strange sensation from when I''d perceived the light flowing through the world. Though not as clearly as when I collapsed, if I concentrated, I thought I could see light flowing over the surfaces of both our bodies.


    "You''re amazing, Alicia."


    "I''m just repeating what Mother taught me," she replied, comparing small pouches of herbal infusions.


    Light gathered at her fingertips. Each time she pinched a leaf or opened a hemp bag, a faint light danced in the air.


    "I''d like to meet your father, mother, and Hannah someday."


    "Mother is... well, she can be difficult. I''m always being scolded. For how I drink soup, how I use words. Yet she''s always praising Hannah."


    When I said this with a pout, Alicia tilted her head and asked, "Really?"


    "Yes! Once, when Hannah and I picked flowers for Mother''s birthday, she said Hannah''s flowers were beautiful. But my flower crown was ugly. Hannah is certainly clever. She started attending Mr. Edwin''s lessons after me, but she learned to write everything and read much faster than I did."


    "That sounds enviable. I''m an only child."


    "You think so? But we''re constantly compared. I''m clumsy and always spilling water from buckets. I think Mother dislikes these things about me."


    "She has expectations for you."


    "Maybe..." I pictured Mother''s face but wasn''t convinced. "What''s your family like, Alicia?"


    "Father trades in spices and textiles. Mother helps compile... botanical encyclopaedias."


    "Wow! Amazing! Is she like a teacher like Edwin?"


    "Unfortunately not. Mr. Edwin is here conducting university research, isn''t he? Mother sends letters and specimens to such professors."


    "Hmm?"


    I wondered what the difference was between university research and what Alicia''s mother did.


    "I don''t quite understand, but like you, your mother must be very intelligent!"


    "Yes. She was... my role model..."


    We chatted for a while longer. Around the time the town hall clock struck eleven, Alicia left, saying, "It wouldn''t be good for your health if I stayed longer."


    Alone at home, I suddenly felt drowsy. Perhaps the conversation had tired me after so long. After arranging the herbs Alicia had given me on the table, I crawled into my bed. As soon as I closed my eyes, I fell asleep.


    ***


    When I woke, the room was pitch dark. How many hours had I slept? I was drenched in sweat, my shift soaking wet. I felt much better than this morning, though terribly thirsty.


    After tucking the blanket around Hannah, who had kicked it off exposing her stomach, I slowly dragged my body, heavy as wet cloth, toward the stairs.


    Halfway down, I heard Father and Mother arguing about something in the kitchen.


    "Stacey, I really think we should pack our things," Father said in a gentle, calm voice.


    "Leave town? I... can''t! Alfred. What about Sith? This is such a crucial time for her!"


    Though Mother was trying to keep her voice down, it betrayed her anxiety.


    "Calm down. If you feel that way, I''m sure there''s good reason. But listen," Father cleared his throat and continued. "This is still just tavern gossip... A citizen in the western district has fallen ill with a high fever. Several dead rats have also been found."


    "No!" I heard Mother gasp.


    "Keep your voice down! It''s just a rumour. But that''s not all," Father drummed his fingers on the table.


    "Beth''s letter mentioned something concerning. You know her, right? My sister is helping at a farm in the neighbouring town. She shared plenty of flour with us last year. But things aren''t going well this year. The growing rice has developed reddish spots like rust, and it''s not thriving at all. And it''s not just Beth''s farm. A crop disease is spreading throughout the town. This year''s harvest was terrible. It might not even reach half of last year''s. It''s going to be a harsh winter... What''s worse is that many shipments from Ravensbrook have been transported to that town. Since last year, in fact."


    A tense silence followed.


    "Are you saying it''s our town''s fault? That something in our town is spreading disease? Is that what you''re suggesting?"


    "Stacey, please calm down. Nothing is certain yet. These are just rumours. But... if a witch hunter has truly come to town... these ''rumours'' might be more than enough bait."


    I heard a chair being pushed back and footsteps. Father must have gone to Mother''s side, rubbing her back as he usually did.


    "In my homeland too... Alfred," Mother''s voice trembled. "In my homeland, there were many children who were ''late in opening the door.'' Waleriana, who lived in the neighbouring house. She was my age. Even at sixteen, people said she had no power at all, that all she could do was smile politely at what others said or scrub floors with a rag. But..."


    "What are you talking about?"


    "Please, listen. One day, Waleriana went into the forest alone. That year, bears had attacked several of the village''s cows, so everyone stayed away from the forest. Perhaps it was because of the extreme cold. The wheat wasn''t growing well either. Waleriana went to the forest and didn''t return by nightfall. While her mother cried until her face was crumpled with grief, some crude men even whispered that they were saved the trouble of having one less mouth to feed. I wanted to punch them. Waleriana was my friend. The girls close to her age gathered by the hearth, rubbing each other''s backs, waiting for her return. And so, morning came... Waleriana returned as if nothing had happened. Her clothes were slightly muddy, yet she looked more beautiful and vibrant than before. She walked slowly out of the forest as if taking an early morning stroll, her thick braids dancing in the air. Even the squirrels that usually nipped at my boots were quiet, watching her pass. The trees and grasses seemed to part, making a path for her. And you know what? Can you believe it? After that, bears never attacked the village again. As if she had made it so. I thought she had ''opened the door.''


    But Waleriana was burned alive that winter. Right in front of her mother. She was tried for using witchcraft to wither crops."


    "How... tragic. Let us pray for the peace of her soul."


    "Thank you, Alfred. What I wanted to say is... about the ''catalyst.'' Surely, a catalyst is needed to ''open the door.'' If Waleriana had awakened earlier, she might have escaped that dull village and lived peacefully in the forest with the bears. Or she might have fled before being tortured by the inquisitor... Even though I might be one of the few girls who did that and survived."


    Mother sniffled.


    "Alfred, I don''t know. What should we do? I don''t want our daughters to... become like Waleriana or me. Why do we need to live in fear of petty rumours? Why us?... Sith has found her ''catalyst.'' I can tell her power is growing stronger. Can''t we stay in this town at least until she... develops the power to protect herself?"


    Their voices grew softer.


    "...Can''t you rely on...? The Twilight Coven...?"


    The Twilight Coven? I''d never heard the term before. Just as I leaned forward from the stairs to listen more closely, a hand was placed on my shoulder. My heart leaped into my throat.


    "Big sister."


    It was my sister behind me.


    "Hannah, did you wake up?" I whispered, making sure the kitchen couldn''t hear.


    "I woke up needing to poo. But you weren''t in the room. But now I don''t need to poo anymore."


    Hannah said, rubbing her eyes. Her usual demeanour made me sigh with relief.


    "I''m sorry I worried you. Let''s go back to our room."


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    I stroked Hannah''s head and slowly dragged myself back up the stairs, taking care not to make any noise.


    After tucking Hannah into my bed, I stroked her forehead.


    "Big sister," Hannah mumbled drowsily. "Were Dad and Mom fighting? Is something scary happening?"


    "They weren''t fighting. It''s okay, there''s nothing to be afraid of. I''ll be with you, Hannah."


    Before I could finish speaking, Hannah was already breathing peacefully in sleep. Moonlight from the window quietly illuminated her face. Her round face glowed in the dim room. It reminded me of freshly baked bread, and I couldn''t help but smile.


    As I closed the curtains, I reflected on the conversation I''d overheard.


    "Why do we need to live in fear of petty rumours? Why us?"...


    It wasn''t just me.


    Father and Mother felt anxious too. So did Hannah. Of course they did. And the townspeople had been gossiping all along. Everyone was afraid.


    If, if I had power.


    If I had the power to drive away a witch hunter. Could I protect everyone?


    I drew the curtains, darkening the room. Though I was thirsty, I decided to wait a little longer before going for water.


    ***


    In the days that followed, I gradually regained my mobility. Suddenly, my appetite returned, and at lunch I devoured plenty of barley bread and warm soup.


    Mother prepared the herbs Alicia had brought me. Sometimes they were simmered in soup, other times mixed into salads. Though some had a bitter taste, when eaten with salted pork, they developed a surprisingly rich flavour. Mother''s cooking was so delicious that I always thought I could never replicate it myself.


    After dinner, she served warm tea steeped with herbs. It seemed to contain dried ginger and citrus peel fragments.


    Father wasn''t particularly fond of herbal remedies, but occasionally he joined us for a cup. When Father drank herbal tea, it was customary to add mint gathered on holy days, and make a small sign of the cross before pouring.


    Once my strength returned, I resumed my training alone in the storage shed. Mother must have noticed me sneaking out each time the night bell tolled eight times, but she said nothing.


    In the shed, I continued reading by candlelight and moonlight.


    Upon rereading, I realised the first half of the first book described the streaks of light flowing through my body and town, the sources of power. In the book, they were described as "air," "angels," and "demons." They seemed similar to the terms Edwin had taught us when Alicia and I visited his house. What were those words again?


    Two days passed this way. I would read a page, go back, then become confused by the content ahead and return again.


    This day I was feeling rather tired and gradually growing drowsy. Just as I was about to doze off and drop the book, a voice suddenly spoke.


    "Hey, stop drooling on me."


    Startled, I wiped my mouth with my sleeve.


    "I''m sorry! But Hannah ate my portion of lamb too!"


    After apologising instinctively, I looked around. I was alone in the storage shed. Who was that?


    "I don''t know what you were dreaming about, but if you want to sleep, you should return to your own bed."


    There was a faint sound like paper rustling in the wind. Yet it was fluent speech with a distinct accent, coming from very close by.


    I lifted the dish containing the candle and moved the light around.


    "Where are you looking? Not there. Trust your eyes and ears."


    Very close. Right in front of me. I nearly spilled the candle in my panic.


    The book I had been holding open on my lap was turning its own pages. "Needless to say, don''t bring the fire too close. I appreciate the light, but I''m not fond of smoke."


    It was the book. The book I was reading was speaking to me.


    Though the mechanism by which it produced sound was a mystery, that was definitely what was happening.


    "...In other words, our world manifests itself through three different overlapping realms. Humans typically can only perceive one of these worlds. The body you currently believe to be yourself, the limbs you think you''re moving, that slovenly mouth hanging open in bewilderment, and the book you think is me. These physical forms aren''t actually the essence of existence. They''re merely one manifestation of existence itself," the book continued to speak as smoothly as water flowing over a board. "But that''s just one aspect of the world. From another perspective, the world is inhabited by torrents of energy, creatures invisible to humans, and souls released from life."


    Confused as I was, I felt slightly offended at the "slovenly mouth" comment.


    "I was just taking a break because I was tired!"


    "I''m offering to help with your understanding. You''ve barely progressed through the pages since yesterday."


    The book rapidly flipped its own pages, stopping precisely at a certain page mid-air. After a pause, the page gently fell. The gesture resembled a sigh.


    "First, arrange the candles. The pink, purple, and blue ones. Place them in an equilateral triangle on the floor. Do you know which way the North Star is? Align the apex toward it."


    Still bewildered, I followed the book''s instructions and arranged the candles. When I lit them, the scent of dried herbs filled the air.


    "Inhale slowly, then exhale over twice that time. Repeat this while focusing your gaze."


    I did as instructed, breathing in and exhaling slowly. As I continued, I gradually felt calmer. Continuing further, I began to see a thin blue light around me¡ªthe same light I had seen in town days before.


    The light circulated along the surface of my body, from head to toe. And the talking book before me was wrapped in a similar glow.


    "That''s it. Be very careful not to quicken your breathing. Slower. Yes, more. Disturbed breathing leads to disturbed power."


    As my breathing steadied, I could see the light circulating through my body in quiet but wave-like, rhythmic patterns.


    "A world where only physical things exist. Most humans can only see or touch such a world. But those who have opened the door are different. What do you see?"


    "A blue, faint light...?"


    "Your concentration is insufficient. Find the appropriate words."


    "Water... this might be water. I see now, luminous water flowing. It flows through my body and emits light outward..."


    "Correct. The flow of energy circulating through you, in your language, is called ''pneuma.'' Pneuma is one type of biological energy. It gives vitality to your body and can produce phenomena and creatures unbelievable in the physical world."


    "Creatures... like the small beings I saw in town?"


    "Possibly."


    I repeated what the book was saying in my mind several times.


    "So, the fact that you, a book, are speaking... is that also because of this ''pneuma''?"


    "More or less."


    From that day on, my study method advanced to the next step. Instead of reading the book alone, I began receiving lectures from the talking book.


    ***


    On the first day of lectures, I proposed giving a name to this imperious talking book. I considered various names, but the book said I could choose whatever I liked. After trying a few out loud, I finally settled on "Baron."


    Baron''s voice resembled that of an intellectual and eloquent adult male. How could he produce a voice without a throat or mouth? Had he been lonely or uncomfortable in that narrow box all this time? Did he ever get hungry or sleepy?


    I never did figure out how his body worked, but his voice conveyed an intellectual, refined atmosphere. His manner of speaking resembled Mr. Edwin''s, but he was more caustic and sarcastic.


    When he spoke, his pages would flip of their own accord, and the speed increased when Baron was hurried or excited.


    Besides speaking, he seemed capable only of simple movements like turning his pages forward or backward, or opening to specific pages.


    While closed, he appeared to be sleeping, neither speaking nor emitting the faint light that typically covered his cover. Therefore, to converse with Baron, I needed to "open" him each time.


    Baron apparently attempted to explain what was written in himself to me in sequence. We began with learning to recognise the "pneuma" in my own body.


    When I tried breathing as instructed before, I could see the pale blue light flow just as before. Baron called this state "opening the door to pneuma." However, the door wouldn''t stay open indefinitely. With the slightest mental lapse, the door would close, and I could no longer see the light.


    "You mentioned collapsing in town earlier. That''s probably causing psychological resistance to opening the door."


    Baron explained this to me, but his advice essentially boiled down to repeating the process until I got used to it.


    Several days later, I finally managed to open the door at will. The next lecture focused on controlling the flow.


    I was taught various methods for increasing the amount of "pneuma" flow or changing its speed, but I didn''t understand more than half of it.


    Throughout the days of practice, I failed several times. When this happened, I would become dizzy and collapse, get nosebleeds, or see hallucinations (usually of Mother scolding me). Fortunately, I never lost consciousness, but such incidents would interrupt training, postponing it until the next day.


    According to Baron, the "pneuma" flowing through a human body was like the remains of a candle burning. If you burn too much at once, it quickly depletes; if the shape is irregular, it won''t burn completely. A candle''s shape must be refined, its flame stable and appropriately bright, and by the next day, sufficient fuel should be replenished. The goal of this training was to replicate this ideal form in my body.


    In my opinion, two things were crucial:


    First, breathing. I can''t explain it well, but instead of breathing at the surface of the body, you need to inhale and exhale more deeply into your centre. As you get used to it, bring the breath even deeper, down to your lower abdomen, and circulate it throughout your body. Continue this while awake and asleep. This stabilised the "pneuma" flowing through my body.


    Second, accepting what you see with your eyes, hear with your ears, and feel with your skin. Don''t be surprised if small creatures play in the harbour corners, or if books and plants suddenly speak to you. Indeed, sometimes I heard things that weren''t there, or saw shadows of creatures I''d never seen before. But "that''s just how it is." It might be "pneuma," or a fairy, or just a talking mouse...


    Thinking this way, even familiar sights took on an otherworldly quality, which was somewhat interesting.


    After several more days, I rarely became dizzy or got nosebleeds during training.


    Whether from the training fatigue or not, I began falling asleep quickly at night and waking refreshed in the morning. I no longer dreamed of that unknown town.


    ***


    "It may be time to move on to the next stage. If you''re so inclined," Baron murmured while turning his pages. At the time, I was practising cleaning the shed while keeping my door open (which Baron insisted was also practice for stabilising "pneuma").


    "The next stage?"


    By now, the door that once opened and closed erratically could be controlled completely at will.


    "Those who have sufficiently stabilised their ''pneuma'' are ready to learn about its applications."


    "By applications, do you mean using ''pneuma'' to do things?"


    "Rather than ''using,'' ''causing mutual interference'' would be more accurate."


    I wanted to ask Baron "What''s the difference?" but restrained myself. In such situations, it was better not to interrupt. Over the days of training, I had gradually learned how to handle him.


    "The mutual interference of ''pneuma'' exerts similar influence on the physical realm. In your language, this phenomenon is called magic."


    I recalled images of "witches" from regular worship and what I''d heard from Edwin.


    "...You mean making the weather bad or transforming into animals?"


    "That too might be possible. If you''re so inclined."


    My previous excitement suddenly deflated, replaced by a feeling like my heart was being grasped.


    Me? I decide? Whether to use a witch''s power?


    Emotions I had deliberately avoided confronting mixed together within me. The desire to move forward versus the anxiety about entering forbidden territory. These feelings seemed to have become a part of my body, expanding and contracting with my heartbeat.


    "What now? Are you getting cold feet?"


    Baron''s voice sounded exasperated.


    "It''s not that..."


    "There should be a paper with the ''Tree of Life'' in the box."


    "You mean this?"


    Thanks to my earlier organisation of the contents, I quickly found a bundle of parchment. It had three large circular diagrams connected by lines to form a triangle. Inside each circle were intricate decorative characters I didn''t recognise.


    "Why is this called a ''tree''?"


    "Try it and you''ll understand. There should have been a knife with it. Touch the tip of that knife to your left index finger, just barely."


    The blackened knife had almost no edge. It might more accurately be described as a child''s toy or a dining spoon. On its side were faint engravings resembling letters.


    "What does it say?"


    "Latin. ''To him who sees the invisible.''"


    I touched the blade to my finger as instructed. The fingertip glowed slightly red.


    For a moment, I thought I had cut myself, but that wasn''t the case. On my index finger, a small droplet resembling blood emitted a faint light.


    "Quietly drop it in the centre of the ''Tree of Life,'' that is, in the middle of the triangle."


    "Triangle? Centre? W-where? Do you mean these circular patterns?"


    "Can''t you tell the difference between a circle and a triangle? I said triangle. The centre of the parchment."


    After several exchanges, I finally dropped the droplet as Baron instructed. After the light left my finger, I examined the fingertip the knife had touched, but there wasn''t a single wound.


    "Watch."


    From where the red droplet fell, a pattern spread like an ink stain. From the centre of the parchment, it expanded outward. The stain spread uniformly to the edges of the triangle, then stopped. However, the stain that touched the circle in the lower right didn''t stop there but continued to spread. This expansion settled after about two breaths. It was an irregular pattern, as if the ink stain that had fallen in the centre of the parchment had been pulled only toward the lower right.


    "Strange paper."


    "This is a simplified ritual for determining magical aptitude, called the dendritic method. The entire paper is made of a material that extracts and diffuses biological pneuma. Meanwhile, the areas represented by each circle are coated with special agents that deactivate the reaction with pneuma. In other words, it visualises the mutual reaction between the experimenter''s pneuma and the Ideal Realm, Material Realm, and Phenomenal Realm, judging the practitioner''s tendencies from the completed pattern."


    "Um...? Can you explain it more simply?"


    "It''s a ritual to determine what magic you might be capable of. Tell me what pattern emerged."


    I described the stain that had spread toward the lower right circle.


    After hearing my explanation, Baron didn''t immediately respond.


    "Baron?"


    "Ah..." Baron''s voice sounded somewhat hollow. "Pardon me. That''s a rather unusual form. I''ve roughly determined the prototype of your qualities.


    Your pneuma seems to have an affinity with the Ideal Realm. That is, the power to interact with invisible energies and beings, such as vitality."


    "Invisible beings... Like domovoi, or like you?"


    "Yes. In the human world, they''re called spirits, fairies, ghosts, angels, demons, and so forth."


    Demons. Yes, demons.


    Even in my ignorance, I knew this word. The priest teaches us during Sunday worship.


    Demons tempt us, corrupt us, make us something other than human.


    "If you''re so inclined."


    The faces of my family and Alicia appeared in my mind.


    "With this, could I...? Could I even... fight someone who frightens everyone?"


    "If you''re so inclined..."


    "I am!"


    My voice came out louder than I had expected. It bounced off the walls of the storage shed, resonating through my body from the outside. The sound from within and its echo from without reverberated, causing the words to bounce repeatedly inside me.


    Indescribable fear and anticipation competed within me. I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to contain my heart that felt ready to burst.


    I''m scared. No, that''s not it. What am I afraid of? I have power. Baron says so too. I''ll do it. I''ll protect everyone.


    One of the candles was about to burn out and glowed more intensely than usual. Large shadows were cast on the shed walls, but mine and Baron''s shadows overlapped, making it impossible to tell which was which.