Marshal gathered all that remained of his courage and resolve and knocked on the flimsy-looking door. Traversing the Wilds had been a gruelling task that had drained him and the others near their breaking point. A task made all that more difficult because they had to carry the crippled Ugo while fending off Ghoul Spiders, Corpse-worms and all the other horrors which nested and hunted in the cursed woods. It was a miracle they made it to Alice’s cottage at all. And as a result, every part of his body screamed in pain and demanded rest. Under normal circumstances, the old hunter would’ve been glad to spend an hour or two in the company of the creepy woman and the disgusting tea and spoiled ale she offered.

But now, the aged man dreaded the encounter. The sound of his hand hitting the wooden planks reminded Marshal of a funeral bell. For a brief moment, he hoped that no one would answer. Sadly, that was unacceptable. Steeling himself, the Silent opened his fist and tapped the door with his open palm. The hollow thump echoed throughout the clearing as the thin morning fog picked it up and carried it towards the barely visible mighty tree trunks on the other side of the white picket fence. He could swear he saw the familiar outlines of Ghoul Spiders as the gigantic arachnids moved between the branches, startled by the noise.

The unnatural quiet of this place was beginning to test his nerves. Although nothing in his past experience could suggest that Alice was a bad person, Marshal couldn’t help but feel on edge. A part of it was because the aged man wasn’t an idiot. He was quite aware that the woman was a witch, as much as he pretended that she wasn’t one. Or as he pretended not to notice the obvious werewolf claw marks on the floor inside the cottage. Of course, there was the possibility that the woman was one of the damned beasts, but that was highly unlikely. She was just too scrawny.

Those weren’t the only signs. There were a lot of little things he had noticed, heard and smelled over the years he had known Alice. Even now, he deliberately avoided looking at the bloody clothing soaking in the basin someone had placed discretely at the corner of the porch he was standing on. If Marshal tried hard enough, he was confident that he could come up with several plausible excuses for the basin and its content. By the ancestors, he could even accept that the clearing was just another of the many oddities of the Wilds that Alice had somehow stumbled upon. But perhaps most telling of all was how the woman hadn’t aged a day in all that time.

To think that when he was a child, witches were but a rumour. Nothing more than the usual ramblings about lunatics banding together somewhere far away. The truth, however, was far more terrifying than what people imagined. He had seen first-hand what witches were capable of. The horror and suffering they brought everywhere they passed. Entire villages enslaved through infernal magic and terror—places where torture was as common as breathing. The memories of comrades long dead danced at the forefront of his thoughts. He had seen hardened men weep like frightened children and cowards march with determination when the hunters were called to scourge the village of Nohr after half a dozen witches had settled in it.

Marshal had watched as six fragile women had butchered and torn men three, four times their size apart. By the time the head of the last one was put on a pike, more than a hundred of his fellow hunters had laid dead in the ruins of Nohr alongside half as many of Salt Town’s Dusk Brigade. Yet, the fear he felt back then paled in comparison to the one gripping his heart now. He couldn’t explain it, but something about asking Alice for help really worried him. Working for her was no problem. Paying for her services as a healer was also acceptable. Or perhaps that was just it, the mute suddenly realised. Each favour and bending of the rules resulted in their little group becoming ever more dependent on the woman. He feared that if Alice agreed to assist them and solve their current problem, there would be no turning back. The witch would own them – body and soul. Not that someone could actually take possession of something insubstantial as another’s soul. At least not while that person was alive, but it didn’t change the fact that the idea fit.

Without warning, the door cracked open. Silently, the darkness of the cottage’s interior revealed itself. What was usually a safe haven felt cold and foreboding. There was no charming beauty to welcome them nor a brightly lit fireplace bathing the spacious room with its warmth. Instead, there was only Alice, sitting at the short table, dressed in a boysenberry-coloured long skirt and a red piece of cloth to cover her ample bosom. An elegant cigarette holder pressed between her lips; she bid him enter while releasing a small cloud of black smoke from the corner of her enchanting red lips. Even from a distance, Marshal could smell the choking odour of exotic drugs and expensive tobacco. Any pretence that Alice was a simple healer was gone, and that frightened the mute. As he contemplated what to do, the witch spoke.

“Something like this was going to happen sooner or later,” her husky voice carried with it genuine remorse while her jade-coloured eyes scrutinised him with the fervency of the queens of old. “For what it’s worth, I hoped it would be later.”

Marshal wanted to run away. To turn around and warn the others that this was a mistake. Like moths attracted to the flame, they had walked right into the witch’s web. Alas, the old man knew that it would be futile. They were spent both mentally and physically. Ugo was ready to greet his ancestors; the way the fever burned him and the smell coming from his bandaged left wrist was revolting. At least the bleeding had stopped, unlike with Marka’s arm. To think that the woman could move after losing so much blood was a testament to the endurance of her people. It didn’t change the fact that the limb had turned purple and swelled while dangling limply along her body. Thankfully her angry hisses and curses had come to an end, as she was mostly unconscious for the better part of the last couple of days, placing one foot in front of the other on instinct. Something that the mute was a little envious of, with the way his shattered ribs screamed in agony inside his chest with every motion.

The best the ageing man could do was warn his fellow hunters. In the split moment it took Alice’s words to reach him, Marshal had already decided that he would sacrifice himself to allow the youngsters to run away. Even if it were only Indigo and Crimson, that would be enough for him. If only she had continued to pretend to be a simple healer, the Silent’s choice would have been different. Which begged the question, why now? What possible reason was there for Alice to openly admit that she was a witch? From his point of view, she had everything to lose by revealing the truth. Still, that wasn’t enough to stop Marshal’s hand from curling as he began to sign “escape” repeatedly to the people behind him.

“Please, stop that.” The witch cut him off, her jade eyes narrowing. “Let’s not do things we both will regret.” She inhaled deeply from the cigarette and let out another cloud of black smoke. “Believe it or not, I will miss your company. You and your little group are one of the few joys I have left in my life.”

That was unexpected. Alice looked genuinely saddened, but Marshal couldn’t help but doubt her words. Witches do not have a heart, he reminded himself as he reached for the sword on his belt. Deliberately, he made a show of pulling out the blade from its scabbard. The Silent wanted to give Indigo and Crimson every chance to see that a fight was coming. Marshal felt the heavy steps of Marka as the red-skinned woman came behind him. She didn’t have to, but with her extra bulk, they had blocked the door, trapping Alice inside her cottage. However, before the veteran hunter could draw his weapon, the witch’s shadow sped towards him. In the blink of an eye, it stood up like a living thing, and even faster, it had assumed Alice’s form. Save for the face.

Marshal felt the cold tears roll down his cheeks as he wept at the sight of the terrible visage standing before him. His hands shook uncontrollably while a horrifying mockery of a smile split the skinless features from one ear to the other. All the old mute wanted to do, was to search for the protective embrace of his mother as the two dark empty pits tore at everything that he was. Dread, like none he had ever felt in his sixty years, took hold of Marshal’s heart. This was no best of the Wilds. It was agony, cruelty, and infinite hunger made manifest. A being of pure evil. A half-meter-long lacerated tongue snaked out of the nightmarish thing’s mouth and licked the side of his face as the thing spoke. Its voice like cracking ice, and each word dripped with malice and sadistic glee.

“It is such a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Marshal Thule.”

With a finger pressed under his chin, the monster pulled him inside the room. There was no force behind the motion, but refusing to follow it was undoubtedly a terrible idea. As if in a trance, the old hunter placed one foot in front of the other, surprised that he could move at all. The fear which had taken a hold of him was like nothing he had experienced before. His body felt heavy and refused to obey him, or that could have been his mind.

“Sit.” The thing commanded, producing an unholy chuckle that would have turned his hair white if he had any left.

Obeying it, Marshal slowly lowered himself onto the wide sofa. His one good eye fixed on the nightmare-given-form as it moved to stand by Alice’s side. For her part, the witch looked unimpressed. Dejected even. The coldness of her expression was haunting, making the witch appear almost human. Marshal wanted to rage, scream and cry, but his mouth refused to open, and his arms felt as heavy as grinding stones. From the corner of his eye, he could see Marka sitting next to him. Her face locked in despair as she shook like a leaf. It was odd to see the mighty woman in such a pitiful state. Not that Marshal could blame her.

“That was not so hard. Pathetic.” The monster in human form purred in delight, which only made its words all that more sickening. “If all it takes to break them is seeing me, then they are of no use to you, child of man.”

“Few can look at you and remain sane,” Alice smiled, although there was no mirth in the gesture. To Marshal, it appeared as something she was too used to doing. Actually, now that he examined his memories, had he ever seen the witch truly smile?

“Don’t worry. My, let’s say, companion will not harm you unless I order it to.” Alice turned towards him as if she had read his mind. Something he desperately hoped she couldn’t do. “But that depends on you, Marshal.”

With a snap of her fingers, the fireplace roared to life, and the short table between them lengthened, resembling more a bed than a table by the time it stopped. A heartbeat later, the thing pretending to be her disappeared, only to return a moment later with the crippled Ugo in its hands. Gently, the monster placed the young man on the table and return to its master’s side. And then, without warning or explanation, the nightmare-given-form dissolved like melting wax into the witch’s shadow.

“I know you can’t answer my questions or explain things,” Alice continued as if nothing had happened. “And I can’t understand that hand thing you do to communicate with the others. So, why don’t I just explain what will happen next?”

Very carefully, Marshal nodded. There was no way for him to misunderstand Alice’s words. There was not going to be a choice. He and the others would either accept what she had planned for them or die. Behind him, the old hunter could hear either Indigo or Crimson swallow hard. The idiots hadn’t escaped as he had hoped. Although, it was more likely that they couldn’t, considering the horror the witch commanded. Still, Marshal was also a little curious. Something must’ve happened while they were away hunting the Shiver. Otherwise, there was no reason for Alice to be this direct. Now, if that was something he could use to save his skin was a different matter.

“For reasons that are of no concern to you, I’ll save only Marka’s arm.” The beauty in front of him took another drag from the cigarette, and he could swear he saw uncertainty in her eyes. “My lovely apprentice, Reina, will take care of the other wounds. I’ll also provide a suitable explanation for you to give the magistrate. One that will earn you a hefty reward too.”

Without the terrifying monster around, Marshal found that his thoughts were returning to normal. But if that were not the case, he could recognise that this was a trap. No one was this generous. Least of all, a witch. He nodded slowly, realising that Alice was waiting for him before continuing.

“Don’t misunderstand, my friend. What I offer would have cost you dearly. Alas, I can’t be bothered to try and convince you that it’s for your benefit while we kept playing the roles we are familiar with.”

Turning her head to the left, the witch motioned for someone out of his field of view. A moment later, the young lass he had seen briefly entered the room. In her hands was a thick bundle of rags. The disgust written on her face told him that he would like what was inside even less. However, one thing was becoming clear – Alice was in a corner. The Silent was quite familiar with this kind of situation to recognise the signs. Of course, she would pretend to be in control, but she was getting desperate. This he could use as leverage. However, he had to be careful. Whatever had her on edge was not something he wanted to mess around with. The mute nodded to confirm that he understood what she was saying.

“Good,” the witch gave him a wry smile. Now that he knew what to look for, Marshal recognised it for what it was – relief that he was acting as she had hoped. “In exchange, you will escort young Miss Sylvestre to the village of Hook while I attend to a personal matter. You are a smart man, so I assume that you understand that it’s in your best interest that you deliver her there unharmed.”

“What!” Reina exclaimed while he nodded, making it clear that the girl was not aware of Alice’s plans. Still, Marshal found it odd that this was all the witch wanted from him and his fellow hunters. It didn’t add up. Sure, Hook was some way away from the usual paths and reaching it would take a little over a week, but all Alice had to do was ask, and the Silent would’ve agreed. In his mind, this was nothing but a small favour he could add to the many others they had done for the witch. There was another possibility, one he didn’t like; she was using them as bait.

“Curse her,” he thought to himself, “she knows how to move people, like a puppet master with his dolls.”

“Do we have a deal, Marshal?” Alice asked, silencing the girl with a withering glare.

Taking a moment, the ageing man looked at his comrades. Despite being nearly unconscious, Marka’s head bobbed up and down. Behind the red-skinned woman, Indigo gave a wary trembling smile. Crimson, on the other hand, kept his eyes on Alice, his expression unreadable. The left part of his face had sagged, but the right half was locked into a stern grimace. His right hand held the shaft of his spear tightly, to the point that the knuckles had turned white. Marshal couldn’t blame the man for being suspicious. After a few seconds, Crimson nodded ever so slowly, allowing the mute to let out the breath he was holding. That only left Ugo, but the youth didn’t have the luxury of voicing his opinion. Most likely, the boy wasn’t even aware of what was going on.

Knowing that this was probably a mistake, Marshal exhaled before forcing a rumble through his throat. The deformed grotesque gurgling sound was something he hated deeply; however, he needed to give a proper answer.

“Ghaea-essgh.”

This wasn’t what Reina imagined as interesting. Seeing the terrified reaction of the dirty thugs when faced with a demon was amusing. Sure, coming face-to-face with one of the Infernal denizens was a harrowing experience, but Ferox Tac hadn’t revealed its true form. The young witch had to agree with the fiend – these people were weak. No wonder witches enthralled ordinary folk. They were good only when they served without free will. After seeing it with her own eyes, the girl had to agree that the Covenants were correct in that regard. Her kind was superior and destined to rule the world.

But Alice had gone against what should have been common sense. Actually, Reina hadn’t the faintest idea what the First Witch was thinking. It was one of the reasons she had dared to open her mouth. Such an act was unthinkable and would be severely punished. However, the ancient witch had just offered to heal the brigands for free. Technically, she had ordered Reina to do it, which was a different issue and one the girl was confident she could solve with the help of her reluctant companions. Although hiding inside her soul, she could hear the impotent rage in Luned and Trahaearn’s songs, and in between those rising crescendos was the confirmation that they could heal the thugs. How that was supposed to happen was open for debate. After all, even demons could repair the bodies of mortals. It might cost someone else’s life, but it was possible.

Now that she thought about it, Reina wasn’t sure what to do to get the spirits to cooperate. The only time they had actively interfered was when they infused a portion of themselves to increase her strength and speed the other night. And that had nearly broken the girl’s back. To make matters worse, the two refused to leave the relative safety of her soul while Ferox Tac was around.

“We are sorry, foolish one,” Trahaearn sang softly in the back of her mind. “It is not out of fear that we hide. We do it to protect you. Our kind and the children of the Infernal Realm cannot co-exist. In order to preserve the fragile peace, we try to avoid them as much as possible.”

“As much as possible doesn’t mean always,” Reina chastised the spirit, directing her frustration at it. While she communed with the braver of her two companions, the witch unravelled the rags in her arms, revealing the two severed heads of the witches who had come to seek Alice, Although, in this case, calling them severed was inaccurate since they were torn off, battered and abused by Rot. What the latter entitled, Reina didn’t dare to imagine.

“It is as you say, foolish one,” the spirit continued in a more sombre tone. “We have used mortals to fight our battles while we guided them. And the lesser of our kind engage in combat with their counterparts in the shadows. But enough about this. You should listen carefully now to the words of the cursed one.”

Biting back the anger that burned inside her, Reina focused her attention on what Alice was telling the leader of the thugs.

“You came across those two,” the First Witch pointed at the heads. “Thought that they were the daughters of some merchant, lost in the Wilds, and offered to escort to safety, as is your duty. Alas, during the journey, you discover they were witches.”

At that, Alice’s eyes flashed gold, and two sigils were burned onto the foreheads of the gruesome trophies. They were an almost perfect imitation of what a Contract mark would look like, albeit without the Infernal energies oozing from it like an infection. A witch or a warlock might be fooled by such a trick if they didn’t bother to get a proper look at the sigils. And if they were drunk and drugged out of their mind. But an ordinary human wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

“You overpowered them by sheer luck after chasing them for weeks inside the Wilds. That will explain why you were gone for so long.” Alice continued as she picked a thin sward from underneath her seat. She examined the edge with the tip of her finger and smiled at the bold man cowering on the sofa. “And how you suffered such grievous wounds.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Alice become a hurricane. She moved with grace and fineness that kindled the embers of jealousy in Reina’s heart. All the while, the thin blade in her hands delivered blow after blow with accuracy that would make a seasoned fighter blush like a maiden in love. As she lunged from her seat, Alice sliced the wrist of the young man who lay on the table. Before her feet touched the ground, the sword had gone through the infected arm of the woman with the clay-like skin. Pivoting on her heels, the First Witch gouged the left eye of the man behind her. Gliding past him, she sliced through the face of the one holding the spear, removing skin and flesh as if they were moss on a tree. The mesmerising dance of violence ended with the blade opening the old man’s throat.

No one moved. No one screamed. Everyone looked stunned at what Alice had done in the span of a few seconds. The wounds inflicted on them hadn’t even registered in the brigands’ minds, and Reina realised that she was gawking at the blood dripping from the weapon’s tip. The First Witch gave her a coy smile and spoke with childlike delight.

“You better hurry, my dear. I’d be devastated if any of them die.”

“Are you insane! I don’t know what to do!” Reina screamed as she rushed towards one called Marshal. He was the closest one and the one that was going to expire first if nothing was done.

The moment she stopped talking, the spacious room was filled with cries of pain and agony as the tough brigands fell to the floor screaming. Placing her hands around the old man’s throat in order to stop the bleeding, Reina scoured her mind, trying to find anything that would help her.

“I am sorry, misguided one,” Luned chimed, parting the darkness that had enveloped her thoughts. Intense pain flooded the girl’s body while a soft orange glow formed around her wrists. “It is the fastest way.”

“You will never be able to learn our ways, foolish one,” Trahaearn added his sad sang to the mix. “Your mind, your soul, they have been tainted by the touch of the Infernal Realm. They refuse most of the gifts we could provide. But if you can endure, we can act through you.”

She watched through tearful eyes as the wound slowly clotted over. “Any more, and you will have no strength left to help the other poor victims of Alice’s twisted plans.”

Sensing the urgency in Luned’s song, Reina released her grip and moved to the next person. Instinctively, she understood what the spirit meant. Closing the injuries so that they wouldn’t be life-threatening was possible. But to heal them completely was a different matter. To power required to do so grew exponentially, as did the pain ravaging her body. The young witch learned this while restoring the trashing man’s face. The exertion was enough to make her lose her footing and collapse next to him, panting like an animal while she tried to remain conscious.

“Only one.” The two spirits sang as one. “Anything more will put your own life in danger.”

“Will… Will his eyes return if I… if you heal it?”

“No.” The pair answered.

Reina felt that there was more, but she had to concede that now was not the time to demand an explanation. However, that also meant that whomever she chose, she wouldn’t be helping them, just taking away some of the pain. Well, at least she could make healing them the normal way a little easier. Crawling towards the table, she placed her hands over the severed wrist of the unconscious young man lying there. Grinding her teeth, the young witch braced herself for the wave of agony that followed. Spent, hurting and furious, she looked at the smiling Alice.

“That went better than expected!” The First Witch whistled. “And you didn’t use an invocation or a ritual sigil to trigger the spell. How curious-”

“Screw you!” Reina yelled before the pain finally claimed her mind.