Witch's Gambit

Bewitched & Bolting

[ *turning up to the worries of my readers* ]

"Witchhunter Abaddon's daughter fell ill this morning."

Ailana's hand stopped midway to her mouth, the cup of water in her hand almost having been dropped at the announcement by her father.

"You mean Loralei became sick?" She hoped that her voice didn't sound shaky. Sickness was always only drawn to one conclusion. Especially with her father's occupation.

The work of a Witch.

Loralei had always been a personality in the village. Her father, Witchhunter Abaddon, was the head of the town while her mother was part of a family that had never had a Witch proven to be within it. Add in the fact she was arguably one of the prettiest girls in the village and had been spoiled since birth, and you had the perfect mixture for her main tormentor.

And Ailana was sure that the only grievance that Lorelai had against her was being born on the same day as her.

Just yesterday before her whole Witch meltdown, Lorelai had been just fine and having her usual schedule of attempting to crush what was left of her spirits in her little pale hands. How could her health take such a sudden turn?

Her father nodded solemnly. "They've already begun a Witch Hunt. I pity the poor soul they'll be dragging to the execution stage."

Ailana felt her heart drop into her stomach. She couldn't stay in this place anymore, especially during a Witch Hunt. She knew she didn't make Loralei sick, at least she didn't think she had. If she had she didn't mean it. But that didn't matter here. All that mattered was that she was a Witch in a Witch killing village during a Witch Hunt and she needed to go.

She had long ago hidden the little plant where she believed no one could find it, but she didn't know if she should bring it with her. On one hand, it was technically her first creation and she felt a strange attachment to it, she didn't have the heart to throw it into the fireplace and watch it shrivel up in the flames. On the other hand, it was the most damming evidence they could place against her with her Witch identity. No one other than a Witch could cause greenery to grow. It was the greatest sin one could commit, according to the Cecilio Texts. Or at least the part the Witchhunters share with the public.

"I'm guessing that Witchhunter Abaddon is heading the investigation?"

"Course he is, can't spend a single day without swinging the stick up his arse around to police the public."

This was probably another reason that their small family was ostracized. Her father would never close his mouth. Hadn't closed it ever since he was born and kept it even looser after her mother's execution, leaving him a widow with a little baby girl.

There was even a saying in the village about him. 'Speakers like Sander only speak slander', or something like that. Once that started circling about her father only got more blunt and vulgar with his words, perhaps to spite them even more.

He was never a man who would go down silently, that's for sure.

Ailana wished she had even an ounce of his guts, even a pinch of them would make her feel better.

"Is everything alright, Lana?" Her father leaned over the table slightly, bending down his height that was barely changed by sitting in his chair. Her father had always been unusually tall, like what bears looked like in the pictures she would see in books here and there. His hair and eyes were dark like the night sky, but held a warmth she was sure only she had ever been witness to.

They also seemed to see right through her.

"I'm just fine. Why do you ask?"

"You've just got this look in your eyes. It always happens when you're nervous about something."