For the Prisoner

5. The Witch

Seonghwa wanted to start at the beginning, but so much had happened in the past few months that he almost forgot where it had started. It hadn't started with Hongjoong turning to stone and neither with his appearance. It had started on that windy night when Seonghwa had ventured to the doors of his chapel back home to greet who he thought was a nightly visitor. It had started with him not kneeling for a being of the same fae blood as the witch and Wooyoung were. Such an easy mistake. Yet he knew that doing anything the fae told him to was just as risky.

"I come from a small chapel far in the countryside. In my life, I seldom banished evil creatures, and I never desecrated a heathenish altar. Tucked away from most such supernatural fiends as yourself or my gnome friend, I never bothered much to study the fae."

"You must have underestimated how many of us there are. Or how close," the witch guessed with a dismissive flick of his hand. When Seonghwa lowered his eyes, the man chuckled. He could read the priest and his naivety like an open book.

Insecure hands fiddled with the bars under his fingers. He was unaware of the motion, that he was touching the bones of what had been once a living creature.

"I did. I never encountered anything more powerful than an imp or the occasional pixie until a woman knocked on my door. A woman in a white dress and smelling of death."

Intrigued, the witch leaned closer. The fire reflected in the silver ring of his iris and his charms jingled with the movement.

"A Dame Blanche. Or White Lady, as you would refer to her as."

Upon Seonghwa's meek nod, the witch leaned back. His hand cradled his chin as if invested with this new information. He hummed and nodded Seonghwa to go on.

"She asked me to kneel, but ignorant as I was I disregarded her demands. I refused her and in turn, she cursed my heart with a terminal illness. Since then, I long since learned to divide mischief from tests concerning fae folk, but at the time, it was too late."

"How didn't you die? I doubt she was benevolent."

Seonghwa clutched his hand to his chest. The pain still echoed, even as Hongjoong's heart left none of it.

"The chapel is an old building. It had a gargoyle on its roof, protecting it from evil. He came to prolong the time I had and explained to me I needed healing, or else I would die. For he knew of your presence here, we came to beg your help."

From narrow eyes, the witch regarded the pile of Seonghwa's friends.

"I see neither a gargoyle nor a cursed heart."

Shivering at the thought that the witch could look into his chest, Seonghwa clutched his hand to it more protectively. He would shelter Hongjoong's heart, no matter what. It would be returned as he had received it.

"We went on the voyage to find you; we come far from the borders of this dukedom, past Eastshallow. On my way, I gathered a troupe of friends to accompany me. As we reached past Briar Glen, however, our time ran out. The curse had me look death in the eye and what I saw was dreadful. It wasn't heaven, and it wasn't light. If I didn't get healed, I couldn't join the Lord's side."

The witch scoffed but didn't comment. Seonghwa continued, long since used to such reactions.

"The gargoyle accompanied me until then. He switched his heart with mine, granting me health and returned to the stone to stop the time that would kill the cursed heart in his chest. We left him at a clearing near the capital. If he moves, his time will run out and he will perish. He asked me to continue my life, but I cannot waste him away when I was the one who made a mistake. Thus, I came here, hoping you could heal the cursed heart so he could be free."