Two more seasons of peaceful farming passed Ivy by with hardly a thought towards the witch world. Despite her resolve to master—or maybe vaguely understand—her power, she had had little time for it. The farm had been busy as usual, and whenever she had found a moment, she had realized that she had no idea how to access that dark power within her heart. Without the anniversary of her awakening forcing it out, she was stuck.

And so she had simply went on living. There were moments when she thought that maybe she could just stay on the farm forever. The work was tough, but not so bad. Tending to the animals was the best part. That, and going into town. She got to ride her favorite horse Snowlight all the way there and back.

Just like right now. Ivy smiled, hugging the pearly white workhorse's thick neck, ruffling her hair where a little brown patch ran up her side. Having just arrived at the nearest town with Miss Angelica to fetch some supplies for the next month's planting, Ivy's spirits were high. With nearly six months since her foray into the woods, she was confident that the second manifestation of her power had not compromised her identity. While not exactly overjoyed with her new life, it could be so much worse. The couple kept her active, and that suited her well enough. She had talked herself up big about conquering her power, but truth be told, everything about it still terrified her.

A pair of villagers waved a greeting to her and Miss Angelica as their horses' hooves hit the packed dirt square that made up the center of town. Ivy thought she might have recognized one, and offered up a little nod in response. There wouldn't be a whole lot of time for socializing until she got her tasks finished. Miss Angelica was to handle seed acquisition while she had tasked Ivy to be responsible for wheeling a cart of worn down tools to the blacksmith for repair or replacement. Ivy had asked for the job specifically because she wanted to commission a chain to be made for experiments in the witch world come next winter.

She dismounted and led Snowlight pulling her cart down the unpaved road that led through the market square with Miss Angelica at her side. The place was pretty lively during spring and early summer, with many of the surrounding occupants coming in for supplies as Ivy herself had. Combined with the general populace of the town, such a number of people coming and going to the stalls and shops, it was almost comparable to a district of Atrican City.

Nearing where she and Miss Angelica would have to part ways, Ivy spent the last of their walk together doing a bit of people watching. Her eyes locked onto a pair of men chatting with the the very same person Ivy’s chore rested with. Both men were clad head to toe in oiled dark brown and black leathers that looked more like armor than clothing. They had weapons strapped to themselves wherever there was room: knives on forearms and ankles, short swords belted to their waists, a larger long sword across their back, and even a few items she did not recognize. Like the short wooden handle at their hips that held a black iron tube atop it. Strangest of all were the pouches held by a strap that ran from shoulder to hip across their chests. Each one held a series of clear glass vials, dark liquid sloshing within.

“Miss Angelica?” Ivy asked.

She turned to regard Ivy. “Yes dear?”

“Who are those men?” She pointed at the pair conversing with the blacksmith.

Miss Angelica’s eyes followed the direction indicated by Ivy’s finger and she smiled brightly.

“Witch hunters, dear. Have you never seen one before?”

Ivy stopped dead in her tracks, unable to tear her gaze away from the men. Miss Angelica must have noticed because Ivy felt a hand rest on her arm.

“Don’t you worry,” she said, “this is a safe little town. There won’t be any hellspawn here.”

“Y-yeah, but…”

Miss Angelica squeezed Ivy’s wrist.

“Oh how sweet you are. Those men won’t bother a kind thing like you. Now go on. I’ll be at the grocer.”

She released Ivy’s arm and headed off on her own, leaving Ivy to face the witch hunters alone. As she continued to stare at them, one turned his head and locked eyes with her. It took all her courage to stop herself from jumping out of her skin at the man’s regard. the moment only lasted a second though, and then he gestured to his partner. Both men left the smithy, walking directly at her.

Oh god, they knew. Somehow they knew! They were coming to capture her. Kill her? What would they do? Deliver her to the church maybe? But how had they found out? Wait. Maybe they had no idea and were just walking this way. That made way more sense. She was just being paranoid. Of course. Then she needed to stop standing still here like an idiot staring at them. Just act normal. Normal. Yeah. Yeah! She pretended to laugh at...nothing. Perfect move.

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What else was normal? Ah! Her cart. She pulled on the reigns of Snowlight and moved toward the smithy like any other random customer. The witch hunters kept getting closer and closer and Ivy could hardly breathe. Her heart was hammering out of her chest. They didn’t know. They didn’t know. They couldn’t.

Once within speaking distance she opened her mouth for some unknown reason.

“G-good day, sirs,” she said.

One of them nodded his head and they both brushed past without incident. Oh, god. She let out the breath she had been holding since speaking. That was nothing. Of course they hadn’t known anything. No one did besides those two thugs back in Atrican and they were no threat anymore. She had almost lost it for no reason.

With a renewed sense of security, she closed the rest of the distance to the blacksmith and explained her needs to the man. He gave her a price and set one of his apprentices right to work, saying it would be a few hours until she should return. With that done, she figured she might as well pass the time with some food and wine.

The nearest tavern had an alright selection, but the one across town stocked an actual drinkable fruit wine. A bit of a walk through the fresh air would help her calm her nerves anyway. As would the wine.

Maybe an hour later, she was sitting by herself at a table, cheeks warm as she finished off her second mug of sweet wine with a side of buttered bread. Every once in a while a man would come bother her, but she waved them all off, content to just pass the day in silence. She wondered how Miss Angelica was doing, likely having finished her shopping by now. They were supposed to meet at the north gate a few hours before sundown to make the journey home before it got dark. She still had plenty of time, and ordered another mug.

By the time she stumbled out the doors, more than one man was following her, though she paid little attention. In a town this small no one was likely to get too aggressive, and she knew from experience she could scream pretty loud. So screw ‘em. The wine had made her mostly forget about the witch hunters, and how scared she had been. Worth it.

She headed north, barely remembering that she needed to check on the smithy’s work. The further she traveled, the less noise followed her. Eventually, she took a glance back and found none of her would be admirers. Ha. That was easy. A few more turns down a couple of alleys and she’d be—

“Ouch.”

She had bumped into something that shouldn’t have been there. Unless she had wobbled into a wall maybe? No. Something tall and dark was in her path. Hm? She looked up into the face of a smiling older man. A deep, white scar ran down his face from above his left eye to the bottom of his chin. She had seen that face before somewhere. Recently. She had to blink of couple of times before she realized what was happening, and then took a faltering step back.

“Hello, witch,” the witch hunter said.

“W-w-what?” Ivy backpedaled further, and then turned to look behind her. The other witch hunter blocked the opposite side of the alleyway.

“She’s playing dumb,” the one she was now facing said.

“They always do.” Ivy turned back to the hunter closer to her. “But I’ve been hunting your kind for over twenty five years, witch. You all give that same look when confronted by God’s will.”

“Huh? What are you talking about? What look? I’m not a witch.” Ivy tried to force some clarity to her mind and steadiness to her voice. She knew the attempt feeble. The witch hunter could probably see her heart’s rapid beating through the fabric of her dress.

“Of course you are,” he said, “but words don’t matter.” He drew the short sword buckled at his waist and pointed it at her. “You will use your power to try and escape, and then we will have proof.”

Ivy kept backing away, and was halfway between the two hunters now.

“I don’t have any powers!”

The witch hunter advanced on her, his stance tight, eyes locked onto her. She held out her hands and he tensed, as though expecting her to bathe him in flames or something. Once he realized nothing was going to happen, he edged closer and closer.

“This is crazy! You’re going to kill me just because I’m scared of you? Anyone would be scared of you two! Look at you!”

The hunter chuckled.

“No. Only witches cower in fear of god’s judgment. The people praise our work.”

“I’m not a witch!” she cried out, but his response was to slash his sword in her direction.

Ivy shrieked, expecting the man to cut her down, and fell to the dirt alley floor. But when she checked herself for wounds afterward, she had been unharmed.

“How often am I wrong?” the witch hunter asked.

“Not often,” his partner said from behind her.

Ivy heard footsteps at her back and before she could respond to the new threat, a hand grabbed her chin and spun it backward. The second witch hunter was much younger, maybe five or so years her senior, also sporting a few smaller scars along both cheeks. He looked at her for a second, and then shrugged.

“She’s really young,” he said, “could be the darkness took her just this year. Maybe she doesn’t quite believe it herself yet.”

The older hunter scoffed.

“I saw her face when she saw us. This one knows what she is.”

Without warning, the younger hunter suddenly released her face, and the counterforce of Ivy’s resistance sent her head spinning back to the first, older hunter.

“You can’t do this!” she said.

Both hunters loomed over her, the elder sneering down at her.

“You’re right, witch,” he said, “you may think me a monster because of the darkness in your soul telling you that god’s grace is the enemy. But I will not have an innocent’s death on my conscious, no matter how low the chance.”

"I am innocent!" Ivy said, then blinked. Wait. That…worked? “Oh, okay. Thank you.”

The hunter grinned.

“But what I can do is put you in a room and lock the door for a year.”

Ivy sucked in a breath. She shook her head.

“That’s...no!”

“Ah yes. I recognize this face from your kind as well. When you realize there is no longer any escape.”

“No! You’re wrong! Anyone would despair if they’d been told they’d be put in prison for a year for no reason! You can’t—”

Something hit the back of her head, and darkness overwhelmed her.