The Wandering Witch VOL. 1 - The Prelude Arc (COMPLETED)

5.1| A Public Execution

No. She's a witch. Don't ever forget that. Don't ever forget what they did.

He blinked, realizing what was happening. The flickering shadows on the floor of the cell seemed to reach out at him for a moment, and the next thing he knew, he was entirely looking at an entirely different scene before him.

Crimson blood. 

He was on the floor, motionless. Somehow, he couldn't move his body at all. His vision blurred, and a hand was reaching out for him, covered in red. A hazy image of a woman crying surfaced before him as she gently touched his face, her tears falling on his cheeks. He could not see her face well, as it was covered in dark shadows. Still, he was certain it had been his mother. How he knew, he was not sure. Black fire was crackling all around, surrounding them both in a grim and unnatural dark-colored inferno. Shadows of people gathered, standing at the edge of the blaze, looking on, whispering words he couldn't hear. There was someone else besides them. From the edge of his blurred vision, another woman was standing a few feet away, dressed in a cloak of black, much of her face shadowed except for the wide and chilling grin on her thin mouth. The black fire licked at her heels, but did not seem to hurt her. She was saying something. She held up a hand. Responding to gesture, the black fire rose to her will.

—Noct blinked again. The illusion disappeared. What he was looking at was the witch's blank face again, at the silver of her eyes. A nauseating feeling came over him for a second as the leftover fragments replayed in his mind. He had gotten such episodes like this, before. Times of when his brain would stop functioning for a second and show him the same scene he had been reliving so many times before. It was a memory he knew nothing of, but was certain belonged to him. Pierre had warned Noct to control his blackouts when he almost fell over a rooftop once. It had become more infrequent as he grew older, and Noct had even forgotten about them for quite some time already. Until now.

A dull pang of hatred came over him, reminding him again of how much he simply hated the Witchfolk. It had all been their fault. They had taken everything away from him.

Noct smiled as naturally at the girl as he could, trying to even out his voice and hide the resentment laced behind them. He hoped she hadn't noticed his brief episode. "So... with all those difficult matters aside, I guess let's begin by creating a strategy, don't you think? A clear plan to escape this morbid place."

The girl pulled back her hand. There was a hint of curiosity on her face. Or, perhaps not. Maybe it was the torchlight, playing tricks on his eyes. Noct blinked twice to make sure.

In the dull silence, her quiet words escaped her lips in a whisper, "... and my satchel?"

The thief nodded, trying his best to morph his face to look like he was concerned. "Actually, for that, I have a feeling it's somewhere above us right now. By my information, usually, when a hunter captures a witch, they first bring their belongings to a guard house to inspect it for any deadly potions and other things, as they state officially. In reality, they just smuggle it and sell it in the black market. However, they don't touch it yet before the owner is executed, because they believe it's cursed and brings bad luck. So, there are actually huge chances that your sku-—satchel is right over our heads right now, inside one of the storage rooms. So now, all we need to do is to make a plan of escape that'll make sure to spare our lives by the end of the day."

The girl's face remained blank as always, but she nodded.

And then I'll steal your satchel and make my escape.