Episode 6

Asphalt pulled me away just in time before the knife could cut my throat.

“I’m not letting another upper-class witch get away from my grip again!” Screamed the female cyclops. Everyone in the room has taken notice of what she has just declared. Everyone is staring at us. There's something vital and unpleasant in the air, although I'm used to this kind of look, it is not the type where everyone's gaze is filled with this intense urge to harm me. I can't help but wonder what I've done to deserve such a reaction, and I feel vulnerable and exposed as a result. Their looks suffocate me as if I'm being judged and condemned without knowing why. I can't help but wonder about my safety in this sea of hostile eyes.

“What is she talking about? What upper-class? Why haven’t you told me that there’s this kind of hierarchy in this place?” I told Asphalt. My head is a rush of feelings, spinning with puzzlement, dread, and uncertainty all at the same time. This bizarre blend of emotions is the result of my naiveté. I never saw it coming and now I'm stuck piecing together the fragments of what happened. I feel as if my entire life has been turned upside down, and I'm left standing here, disoriented and unsure of what to do next. My heart is hammering in my chest, and my mind is trying to keep up with the reality that is playing before me. I arrived here with no understanding of anything, I came unprepared, how foolish of me. There's this whirling and crashing maelstrom of emotions, leaving me feeling lost and defenseless in this sea of uncertainty.

My parents are right, I never learned anything. I managed to keep my composure as the Cyclops gazed down on me with such hatred.

“Oh, there’s hierarchy all right. A hierarchy created by your kind! “ I dove quickly and precisely, my body reacting intuitively to the approaching danger. The deadly knife slashed through the air, inches from my face, as if time had stood still in that heart-stopping moment. I could feel the rush of adrenaline flowing through my blood, sharpening my senses. A single miscalculation, a fraction of a second delay, and the blade would have pierced the space between my eyes. A bead of sweat streamed down my brow as I moved, a witness to the severity of the situation. The wind blew about me, seemingly in time with the gravity of the threat, intensifying the tension in the air. Each movement was purposeful, carried out with the precision of someone well-versed in danger. It was as if my body had become a well-oiled machine, smoothly responding to the impending danger. All these creatures are deadly serious; they are attempting to murder me.

At that moment, amidst the chaos and the threat of death, I remained composed. Experience has taught me to channel my dread into concentrated determination rather than allowing it to devour me. The seriousness of the situation became clear to me when I realized that these beings were dead serious about ending my life. But I refused to give in to fear. Instead, I harnessed the rush of adrenaline, sharpening my senses and bracing myself for whatever obstacles lie ahead.

“Aren’t you a Cokoa*? Your kind is passionate about cooking, and I don’t think we’ve committed anything to disrespect your work.” Asphalt said.

“When my food is being eaten by such filthy creatures, I see it as disrespect. The very act of putting my spoon in your mouth is already a form of disrespect.” The cyclops said coldly.

“We are not upper-class witches. I am a shapeshifter, and this witch with me has been shut off from the rest of the world. Do not compare us to those repulsive monsters up there; we are nothing like them.” Asphalt said.

“Starting to get desperate to the point of bad-mouthing your kind? I admire the determination but it ain’t gonna work.” The cyclops exclaimed this, and the creatures began to approach us. They're getting closer, these creatures of various sizes, each with a wrathful expression on their face. Their movements are a symphony of menace, from the towering massive creatures to the small ones darting around. The ground trembles beneath their weight, as if it is shaking in terror. Their gaze is determined, and their steps are deliberate. The biggest ones walk with a commanding grace, their hefty footsteps echoing across the air. Meanwhile, the smaller ones dart and weave with unrivaled agility, like shadows in the darkness.

I feel a little tremble of fear seep into my chest as they approach, but I refuse to let it overcome me. I keep my cool, my eyes monitoring their every motion, memorizing their patterns, and looking for any flaws. Time seems to slow down, allowing me to examine the complexities of their approach. Their muscles stiffen with each step, their brows furrowed in concentration. They exude sheer power, an intensity that demands to be respected. But there is a ray of hope among the darkness. I remind myself that I have overcome obstacles in the past and come out on top. I keep my breathing calm and my concentration on the task at hand. I know that keeping my cool is critical because it is in these moments when clarity of thinking becomes my most powerful weapon. So I stand firm, my determination unwavering, ready to face anything that these creatures throw at me.

“Witches, warlocks, what is going on here?” Death emerged from the crowd while looking at everyone strangely. A flood of relief washes over me, calming my raw nerves and releasing the tension that had built up inside my muscles. Death appears amid this impending conflict, just as fear threatens to overwhelm me, like a beacon of hope amidst the darkness. Her presence alone prevents whatever was going to fall on me from happening. The weight of the world is lifting from my shoulders as if a big burden has been lifted. It's as if a wave of peace washes over me, and I can't help but let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. My stomach knots begin to relax, and a spark of hope appears within me.

"There are upper-class witches here, trying to set their feet on our ground!" screamed one.

"They tried to fit in! Animals with no shame. After what they have done?" Said another.

“Oh puh-lease. Upper-class witches? Here? They can’t even wash their behind with their own hands, let alone last the forest alone and you’re telling me that an upper-class witch has managed to survive their way here?” Death reasoned.

“This is not the first time this has happened. Yesterday, a blue-haired warlock ate here, taking all the ashmwin and finishing our coupic. Of course, I was delighted since he had shown an interest in my work and had compensated me generously. But then I noticed him calming the surging water in the sink. The water was all over the place, splashing and spraying in all directions, making a crazy mess. But then this boy comes in, his hands moving with such calm grace. It's as though he's one with the water, his touch gentle yet commanding. He reached out his hands to the raging stream. He possessed an invisible energy that tamed and guided the water with precision. The surge of water appeared to obey his every order, flowing easily and obediently, as if it had found its way. It's as if he had this unspoken language with the water, and they danced together in this hypnotic choreography. His fingers controlled the water softly, his touch light yet firm. The water followed his lead, cascading into the sink with a newfound calm. The turmoil had become a tranquil symphony, with each droplet finding its place with grace and elegance. Only witches from up there can do it, as you are aware. When I tried to pursue him, he vanished into the mob. No way am I letting this one go through my fingers. Not ever again.” The cyclops said.

“Lady, you’re scaring the kid. How can you be so sure that she’s an upper witch?” Death asked.

“She keeps a hashmin as a pet.” The cyclops replied.

“Hashmin don’t talk, you idiotic Cokoa!” Asphalt said. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m a shapeshifter?”

“Now, we don’t want bloodshed here so let’s just let this pass. Enough of this and go back to your normal life, everyone.” Death said, but no one moved an inch. They are dead set on killing me. Death exhaled with a sense of finality as she gracefully removed her gloves. It seemed as if the air surrounding her was holding its breath, waiting for what was to come. She then began brushing on each creature individually, as if painting a masterpiece with the flick of her wrist, a single swish, and a little dance. Her movements were poetic in motion, with each step full of purpose and grace. I stood there in astonishment as she slid over the ground, her feet scarcely touching the ground. Her strides were light and nimble as if defying gravity, as if she were dancing with the wind itself. In response, the wind seemed to carry her, gently rustling her clothes and creating an ethereal air around her.

I couldn't help but notice how her clothes swayed with her every movement. The cloth swirled and spun, echoing her graceful movements. Her clothing seemed to become an extension of her, adding to the mystique and power she projected. It felt as if I was watching an outstanding dancer in perfect tune with the elements. After what seemed like an eternity, she stood by me, facing the fearsome cyclops. Everyone else had succumbed to the warm embrace of death and lay silent behind us. As I stood before this epitome of mortality, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of wonder and anxiousness.

“You’re a death witch.” The cyclops said. “Why are you helping upper-class witches? Is it not enough that they killed your kind? You’re the last death witch, how would those dead creatures see you now? Your loved ones? Your parents.”

“I didn’t expect cokoas to be shallow-minded. I’ll keep this simple unless you want to sleep like them, alright? These are my kids, which is why I know for sure that they aren’t from up there. And dear? Never use my relatives to push me back. That’s nothing, I can always push harder.” Death said gazing at the Cyclops intensely. Her gaze is so sharp it can kill.

“This is the very reason why even this place hates you, death.” The cyclops said while shaking her head. “You just do not belong anywhere; no one has ever liked your kind. Don't take it personally; it's simply a result of being born in something that isn't seen right.” She got back inside her stall afterward and Death went to take her gloves to put it on.

“You guys suddenly disappeared. Tell me if you guys are gonna wander around and check things out.” She said then smiled.

“Death, I’m sorry.” Asphalt said and ran to her. He started hugging her leg while sobbing.

“Hey, you don’t look cool right now. No, not at all.” Death said.

“Death, me too. I’m sorry.” They wouldn’t be in this mess if I hadn’t shown up here or if I hadn’t inquired to find out more about this place.

“Stop the drama, creatures! We need to go somewhere. I’m meeting someone and I need to catch him before he leaves.” She said and started running. I followed behind her. I feel like I’m taking Death for granted. She is too kind and understanding.

We walked past a few stalls before heading further into the shade. My pulse raced when I noticed the strange creatures that surrounded us. Some of them were immersed in a gruesome display, expertly manipulating blades that glinted menacingly. Their motions were almost captivating, a fine balance of danger and expertise. Others simply stood there, staring at us with disturbing intensity. Their stare penetrated the darkness in the weak light, their eyes gleaming like beacons of malevolence. Their unflinching gaze looks as though they could see into the depths of our souls. Their presence seemed to emit an overwhelming desire for blood, a hunger that hung in the air like a thick fog. It was a sobering reminder that we were mere intruders in their realm, and their predatory instincts had been fully activated. Their motions were systematic, a planned grace that hinted at their lethal potential with each stride they took.

As we walked on, I couldn't help but feel a shiver run up my neck. The air was heavy with the weight of their desires, and the atmosphere was dense with an uncanny tension. Every detail, every gaze a warning of the lurking danger in the shadows. I made sure that I was always close to Death in case someone gave up on their drive and tried to leap at me a moment too soon. “Eth? Are you still there?” Death called out. We come across a tall, damp structure, its imposing figure casting an unsettling shadow in the barely lit path. The lack of sunlight simply adds to the mysterious appeal that surrounds us. My gaze is pulled to a locked window draped with dark blue curtains, through which Death appears to beckon, her voice ringing through the silence. A symmetrical collection of windows stands across from this intriguing window, each draped in the same deep blue curtains. The uniformity gives the impression that they are all part of a mournful chorus. This design continues vertically, reaching for above and underlining the building's splendor.

The windows themselves vary in size, with each having its frame. Their shapes, which range from rectangular to arched, provide a touch of beauty to the otherwise solemn facade. The delicate design engraved into the shell that surrounds them speaks of quality and attention to detail. It's as though each window has its personality and a story to tell. The color scheme, which is dominated by the dark blue drapes, is suggestive of midnight skies. It generates a sense of mystery and reflection, as if staring through these windows might disclose secrets concealed deep within the structure. As I approach the intriguing charm of this damp, lofty structure, the air is thick with expectancy, a mix of wonder and anxiety. “It’s me, death.” Death said and the window instantly opened. A good-looking guy greeted us with a shocked look. His face is framed by circular eyeglasses. His turquoise hair sticks out, brilliant and one-of-a-kind, complementing the intensity of his teal eyes. Every element appears to have been painstakingly chosen, resulting in a compelling image that draws attention.

“I told you not to say your name around here!” He whispered. “They will kick me out once they find out that I’m doing business with a death witch.”

“Is that my fault? I called but you didn’t answer.” Death said.

“What do you want?” He said with annoyance.

“Do you have more of that altering potion in stock?” Death said.

What is the purpose of the altering potion? Is that meant for me? Is she going to change my DNA to make me a natural witch? Oh please, don’t.