A Witch and an Artisan

CHAPTER 2: LAST DINNER

The girl reappeared inside her bedroom. Just in time for her mother to call her for dinner. There was a knock on her door. She walked towards the door and twisted the silver knob open. Her mom is standing outside.

“Sweety, dear, it’s time for dinner! I cooked your favorite! The chicken ala carbonara!” Her mom said. Her mom is looking so excited. It’s been a long time since she’d seen her like this before. The girl smiled at her mother and took her black jacket off. “Yes mom, go ahead.” Her mom quickly walked downstairs while she hung her jacket to the hook on the wall. Then, she followed her mom down the circular, transparent black glass staircase.

Just like her mother said, she cooked her favorite. The aroma of the carbonara filled the whole first floor of the house. She closed her eyes, sniffed the aroma of the carbonara and followed the scent. As she opened her eyes, she found herself only a foot away from the silver round table.

 It was only she and her mother inside the house, because her father died on a demon attack, five years ago, when she was nine years old. Her father is an artisan, a person who has the ability to use a human that turns into a weapon. And so is she. But since the Zhacharovs are rich and that they own dozens of five-star restaurants and bars all over the world, her mom doesn’t need to work that hard.

The other reason why it’s only she and her mom living in the house is because she has no siblings. She is the only child. The girl sat down in front of the table and waited for her mom. They both ate, for the last time, together. She is about to go to Death Academy by tomorrow morning. It is a school where weapons and artisans train to fend off demons.

“You know, I’ll really miss you. I don’t want you to go but… you have to.” Her mom said, breaking the silence that have lasted for what seemed like decades.

The girl nodded. “I’ll miss you, too, mom.” She said. Then, her mom hugged her tight. The girl cried silently on her mom’s shoulder, she is also trembling. Her mother is a strong, strict, disciplinarian, but a loving witch. Her mom didn’t cried. Upon sensing that her daughter is crying, she pulled away, wiped her daughter’s tears and looked at her firmly.

“Things like this happens, dear. Be strong. As you grow older, you face more and harder problems. So be strong.” Her mother said. The girl stopped crying. Her mother’s right. It is required that children who are artisans, aged fourteen, go and study at Death Academy. They just both sat down and continued eating.

After the meal, her mom washed the dishes while she went up to her room and packed her things. After that, she changed into her pajamas, crawled on her bed and got under the blankets. She closed her eyes, but she can’t sleep at all. The thought of what might happen tomorrow disturbing her.