Seven Witches

thirteen

Cythera was paranoid and afraid. Even when she was carful to hide the gold and ruble in her bag, she couldn't help but think of what she would do if her bag got stolen. She had taken a boat across the river and was now walking through the city, trying to find her way to The White Forest.

She was hungry and still sick from the water, she needed to find somewhere to sleep for the night. The streets were terrifying, dark alleys where people with ragged and sewed clothes wandered. Cythera hadn't been in the city in years, since the time she insisted to go out with Tetka to choose her own dress. She was a little girl back then and everything seemed magical.

Now she worried too much to focus on finding her way. She kept walking, trying hard to read the signs above the shops.

Cythera couldn't tell if the places with "KEEP" on their banners were brothels or actual inns, she had tried to enter one and was faced with a man shoving his hand inside a young girl's shirt.

Her feet hurt and she decided to take a rest in a bar. The coat she wore around her hid most of her but the coat itself was expensive in comparison to what the rest of the civilians wore so the moment she entered, immediately a few eyes devoured her.

All her life she thought she was poor, but the people here seemed to have so much less than she had. It made her despise her ungrateful self.

Cythera sat on a chair close to the reception. The place was lit with candles and stakes on fire hung on the walls. There were almost six tables, each had from two to four chairs, all made of wood. Groups of men rounded on a table to drink and gamble, some smoked and watched the maids round, some put their hands on the maids when they turn around.

One of the maids stopped by Cythera and greeted her, asking her what to drink. "I'll have red wine,"

The laughter ceased. The room grew quiet. "I'm sorry ma'am, we only have ale, water, and food." The servant said, furrowing her blond eyebrows.

She looked around the room, noticing some men exchanging smiles. One with a bald head and a belly spilling from his pants even winked at Cythera. "Fine, I'll have the ale."

As the servant went, Cythera checked her pulse. The bald man was still staring at her and now his companions too. He had brown teeth and a scar across his cracked hands that held the cup he drank from, ale dripping from the corner of his mouth.

She was disgusted and looked away, only to find a woman with a huge skirt and a cloth around her head glaring. Was she doing something wrong? Cythera poked the mind of the bald man, slowly entering. She flinched, his head was so vulgar and violent and messed up, as if he had been raised among animals.

When the servant came back with her ale, Cythera tugged at her wrist. "Do you know somewhere safe I could spend the night in?"

The girl looked around before bending to whisper in her ears, "I know one not too far away but its quite expensive if you—Ah!"

One of the bald man's friends had cupped the servant's arse, causing her to squeal. Cythera slapped his hand away. "Hey! Get your hands off of her,"

The man scoffed, looking back at his friends with a smug on his face. The sight reignited a memory of a night similar to this one. She had always been looked down on by prideful men with empty skulls. "Would you rather replace her?" the man said, tongue going over his ashy lips.

In a blink, the man had seized her wrists, pulling up the sleeves of her dress. She tugged, trying to free herself from his grasp. When her attempts failed, she entered his mind and gave him intense pain in his thigh, glamouring his leg to make it bleed.