The witch

It’s those green eyes again.

Where have I seen them before?

Oh yes, I saw them in those plains just hours earlier, as I watched Sunflower slit the throats of two people, taking their valuable belongings without a care in the world.

If you were to ask me whether I was scared of her, I would have replied yes without hesitation. That speed, those skills—she was so fast I couldn’t even see her. And yet, when Dawn was halfway through his sentence—“Sunflower, take hi—” she struck without mercy.

SWISH!

Unlike before, when she was fighting those two and felt confident—certain she could overpower them—now, surrounded by uncertainty, she wasted no time. She didn’t hold back a single ounce of strength as she swung her dagger across my throat.

My head, along with the entire cellar, seemed to split in half. As it dropped to the ground, it bounced a bit before landing just beneath Dawn, who reached out to grab my bloody head, blood still pouring from my neck.

“Why the change of plans?” Sunflower asked, beginning to clean her dagger.

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you after you bury his body beneath the trees,” Dawn replied, his expression stiff.

“Beneath the trees? Isn’t there a chance someone could have used Detection on him? That could expose our village. Wouldn’t burning the body be better?” Sunflower asked, clearly confused at how foolish the situation appeared.

“Just do as I say. After five days, you can do whatever you want with the corpse. Just bury him somewhere I can observe the grave from my study desk,” Dawn said, his face showing that he knew exactly what he was doing.

Sunflower wasted no time. She immediately grabbed the bloody, motionless body and headed for the spiral staircase.

Still holding Lance’s head in his hand, Dawn turned and walked to his office. He placed the head inside one of his safes, locking it with three separate locks. Through his office window, he saw Sunflower instructing a group of men to dig a pit.

Dawn relaxed slightly in his chair. His mind raced.

Why did it have to happen during my time? Hopefully, it was just a bluff—otherwise, things could turn bad.

He glanced at the safe, his sharp eyes focused. That focus was broken after a few seconds by a knock at the door.

“Come in,” said Dawn.

Sunflower clicked open the door and sat across from him, the office desk between them.

“This is information only revealed to those who ascend to Chief. You understand what this means?” Dawn asked in a soft but serious tone.

“You want me to be Tresia’s next Chief,” Sunflower replied, connecting the dots.

“Yes, but not yet. You still need training—and clearer thinking,” Dawn said, giving a faint smile.

“Clearer thinking?” Sunflower asked, confused.

“Yes. Today, you killed two people, but didn’t think to bring one back for questioning,” Dawn replied.

“I tried, but that man… he drank some kind of poison while I was handling the woman. I had knocked him unconscious before dealing with her,” Sunflower tried to explain.

“Then you didn’t actually knock him out,” Dawn said bluntly.

Sunflower fell silent.

“Anyway, that’s not why I called you here. Is his body buried?” Dawn asked, turning serious again.

“Yes. Why are you being so serious?” Sunflower confirmed.

“It’s going to be 300 years since the incident. As you know, I won’t be alive by then. This report was passed down by our ancestors. Though it’s written like a story, it’s a verified account.”

Sunflower remained silent, ready to hear what the report said.

Dawn opened one of his drawers and took out a document.

"I ran to the town. There was a witch approaching. As I reached the market, people were already gathered around her. The witch looked beautiful and shocked the crowd with magic never seen before.

She decided to stay a few days. Many illnesses were healed. Many lives were saved. New methods of obtaining food were taught.

The witch was invited to the palace—to my father—who was supposed to grant her a handsome reward. Greed was the root of the conflict. It was the reason for her imprisonment. She wouldn’t grant my father’s wish. What was that wish?

I wanted to see the witch. I wanted to see her magic. I snuck into the cellar without my father knowing.

I got around her cell and heard prayers. I couldn’t understand the language. I tried to get closer, but that alerted her. So I stopped hiding and faced her. She was uninterested in me—until I carelessly revealed that I was the Chief’s son.

She asked what I wanted.

I looked at her condition. Her bright red hair was covered in dust. Her clothes were those of a prisoner. Her eyes were dead. All hope had been lost in them.

Maybe if I’d said something different, the outcome would’ve changed. But even after seeing what my father had done to her, and the state she was in, like a careless child I asked her to show me magic.

I remember those cold eyes she gave me. But not long after, she smiled and said, 'Sure. Show me your hand.'

Like the naive child I was, I extended my arm through the bars. She grabbed it and wouldn’t let go. It hurt. I screamed—but she didn’t stop. She took out a knife she had hidden, and without hesitation, ripped my arm off.

I fell, screaming. The pain was unimaginable.

The guards were alerted. They rushed to the scene. The witch grabbed my severed arm and put it into her mouth. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing—she swallowed it whole.

The guards scrambled for the keys to retrieve it, but the woman had begun chanting:

'I sacrifice thee arm and my soul. Curse this land. Curse its people.

They shall suffer disasters. They shall die from hunger. They shall watch as their loved ones are slaughtered before them.

They shall watch as their houses burn. Their crops burn.

The entire village—burned. And they shall watch.

For thou shall one day come to thrust this cursed land again.'

As she finished her prayer, she fell to the ground, motionless. She had died.

Even after cutting her open, my arm had disappeared without a trace.

Be wary of the curse. Be wary of strangers. Limit the reach of our land. Refrain from seeking help, Find a way to break it "