"Indeed, in most literature and plays, witches are portrayed as evil. No, that's not quite right. They're portrayed as more than evil. The unknown power of plants, the natural power that humans have lost through education, the power of fate determined by the gods. They are beings who can manipulate and use such things for the benefit of people."

"For the benefit of people? But that's not what the pastor says," I felt a bit like arguing against Alicia's adult-like attitude. "He says that witches' magic is evil that distorts the order established by God."

"Oh Sith, don't be so dull. Isn't that rather one-sided? Is that really your own opinion?" Alicia's eyes widened, and she pursed her well-shaped lips.

"You're being one-sided too, Alicia," I argued back.

"I want to hear Sith's opinion, not the pastor's."

"Now, now," Edwin intervened in the argument."According to records, the period when persecution of witches was most prevalent was about 100 years ago. It was concentrated in rural areas and mountainous regions. It's not surprising if it differs from urban sensibilities. However, there are still reports of persecution in rural areas. There are regions where witch hunters and witch finders, who have the right of judicial petition under the recognition of lords and churches, are active. Witch hunters are particularly terrifying. Delegated unique pre-trial procedures by the lords, they carry silver swords and torture instruments, and directly investigate witches."

Alicia and I swallowed hard at the same time.

"Fortunately, there have been no such incidents in Ravensbrook, but many adults have an aversion to 'witches' and 'magic'. Be careful how you talk about it outside," Edwin gently advised, and Alicia nodded, saying "Yes."

"Now, let's think about this. Both of your opinions have merit. Demonologists' texts say, 'Witches make pacts with the devil and bring about calamities.' But in recent years, another view has emerged. There's a claim that witches are 'wise women' who use knowledge and medicine to treat people. Although this view is still quite rare."

Both Alicia and I were captivated by the term 'wise women'.

"Which side is closer to the truth? Here, the Eastern natural philosophy I've been studying might be useful. That is, a perspective that sees the world not as a conflict between good and evil, but as a balance of opposing forces," Edwin continued, looking back and forth between our faces.

"In Caldoria and its neighbouring countries where we live, the world is perceived in terms of opposing concepts. For example, light and darkness, purity and impurity, good and evil, teacher and disciple, adult and child. But Eastern philosophy doesn't think that way. It suggests that concepts that seem to be in opposition are often two sides of the same coin, indispensable for each other's existence."

Alicia was deep in thought, with a serious expression on her face in response to Edwin's explanation.

Edwin leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms thoughtfully. "Think about it. Can you understand light without knowing darkness? Can you understand joy without experiencing sorrow? Look at you two. You might seem to be expressing opposing opinions, but you're interconnected, complementing each other."

Alicia and I looked at each other. Edwin's words were difficult to grasp, but the idea that we were "interconnected" evoked a strange, ticklish sensation. I felt embarrassed and hurriedly turned my face away.

"In fact, I think the same might be true of the magic that witches are said to use," Edwin's words suddenly brought me back to reality. "For example, 'The Malleus Maleficarum' states that witches use 'maleficium' to wither plants. But what if the target was, say, grass that saps nutrients from wheat? Wouldn't the wheat grow better than ever on a farm with less weeds?" This was a new perspective for me.

"This is 'The Melancholy of Witches.' It's a rare text that deals with witches outside of our Caldoria," Edwin said, taking out a thick leather-bound book from the lectern.

"It presents an interesting view on the abilities and characteristics of witches. Namely, it suggests that the magic wielded by witches perceives our world in three realms. The Ideal Realm where the souls of humans, spirits, and demons govern the mind; the Material Realm where wood, fire, and earth govern nature; and the Phenomenal Realm where the liquids flowing through living things govern the body. The book's perspective is that witches' magic is the supernatural power exerted by controlling and harmonising these three concepts that we cannot perceive."

Alicia leaned forward, gazing intently at 'The Melancholy of Witches.' I peeked over her shoulder, but I couldn't even tell what language it was written in.

"Three realms? How do witches control them? Is magic a real phenomenon?" Alicia seemed unusually excited.

"Unfortunately, that's still unknown. According to this book, it seems there are unique techniques corresponding to each realm. Language, rituals, drugs... It seems they exert positive and negative influences through such means. The most familiar might be herbal medicine."

"Language? Rituals? How are these methods carried out specifically?" Alicia pierced Edwin with a serious gaze. "If we knew these, could we do it? Could we use magic?"

I was so surprised by her unusual intensity that I lost my voice.

"Miss Hunt, calm down," Edwin met her gaze, interlacing his fingers on his knee. "If you intend to dedicate yourself to academic ethics, that's not quite the right question. What we must be most careful of is setting up the conclusion we want to see first, and then manipulating evidence and logic as a means to that end."

Edwin slowly chose his words. "Do you want to gain correct knowledge about witches? Or are you perhaps saying you want to become a witch and use magic?"

"I..." Alicia hesitated. She frowned, her mouth set in a firm line. The fiery passion she had shown earlier had subsided, and she looked dejected, like me when scolded by my mother. She had been reprimanded by Edwin.

Unable to bear seeing her downcast figure, I shot Edwin a resentful look. Noticing this, Edwin cleared his throat lightly.

"I went too far. Miss Hunt, I apologise. ...I understand your interest well. Witches and magic are indeed very fascinating topics. That's precisely why we must not forget to maintain an appropriate distance. If you'd like, come here again with Sith. We'll look at my collection and talk about the latest research trends."

Alicia's face suddenly brightened.

"Yes, I'd love to!"

***

That night, I had a dream.

I was trying to enter a distant town. A town surrounded by harsh mountains and valleys. In the distance, I could see a church spire.

It was the same scene I had seen that day in Valentine's shop. Fields of rye and oats spread out before me. Some were poorly developed and weak. Barren land. People with gloomy expressions.

In that dream, I was a man. Waiting for someone at the entrance of the town.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Bradley," a woman next to me said worriedly to the "me" in the dream. Her beautiful golden hair cascaded down, but her complexion was pale and she was thin.

"Francesca," Bradley, or rather "I", spoke gently. "Don't worry. Old Mrs. Dummigan is an excellent apothecary. If she sees us, I'm sure we'll be blessed with a child too." Saying this, he gently stroked Francesca's hair.

A man came to greet us. Led by him, we enter the town. Dilapidated fences. Narrow, winding roads. Crowded houses, hushed conversations heard from their windows.

We walk through the town, the three of us. We pass by a large but old mill. A high-pitched sound accompanies the slow rotation of the wheel. It's as if the wood is screaming. It must not have been maintained for years. I see a rat running along the corner of the building. The flour dust floating in the air clings to our clothes.

Eventually, we reach the centre. It's a square. Roads radiate outward from it.

"Is this under construction?" Bradley asked about the object set up in the centre of the square. A wooden post. The remains of something dismantled?

"It's a replacement for the hardworking tree," the man replied vaguely.

We arrive at a house. The owners, an elderly couple, a boy, a girl.

"Welcome to the Dummigan house," the owner nods his head. Bradley and Francesca bow. They seem to be welcomed. Francesca quietly sighs in relief. Seeing this, Bradley also feels a little reassured.

As we carry luggage to the room, I feel a tug on my sleeve. I turn around. It's the girl from earlier.

"Hey, did you see it?"

See what?

"If you came from outside town, you must have seen it, right? Even birds don't nest there."

There?

The girl smiled innocently.

"The hanging tree."

***

I woke up with a pain in my left hand. I was out of breath and drenched in sweat. The linen shift felt rough against my skin. Dawn light was streaming through the window.

For a while, I didn't know who I was. As I opened and closed my fingers, I gradually became aware that I was Sith Cumaill.

After steadying my breath, I looked at my left hand where the pain had been. There wasn’t a mark in sight.

Next to me, my sister Hannah was breathing quietly in her sleep. Being careful not to disturb her, I gently brushed back her chestnut hair. Seeing her peaceful sleeping face, I felt a little relieved.

It had been such a vivid dream. The damp earthy smell that pervaded the town and the post that stood in the square still felt as if they were right in front of me. It had an eerie presence.

I check the curtains on the window. There, a folded piece of linen cloth was sewn in inconspicuously. There's a faint scent of rowan berries. The charm my mother made for me was safe.

I went downstairs as quietly as possible. When I got to the kitchen, Mother was already up, kneading the dough for the day's bread.

"Sith?" Mother said, surprised. "You're up very early."

I nodded silently. Just as I thought I should say something, Mother wiped her hands on her apron and came in front of me. Then, she gently placed her warm, thick hand on my cheek.

"You had a dream, didn't you?" Mother asked softly.

I nodded silently again. It felt as if Mother's kindness was seeping into my body through her body heat. I was hugging Mother's body like a small child.

There was a moment of silence.

"Mom, I'm scared," I whispered into Mother's chest.

Mother slowly stroked my cheek with her thumb. "My beloved child. Sith. What are you afraid of?"

"I don't want to lose anything."

"What?"

Various people's faces floated in my mind. Father and Mother, Hannah. Valentine, Flannery, Edwin, the people of Ravensbrook. The girl with fiery red hair. And... the thin woman with golden hair...

Confused by my own memories, I rubbed my head against Mother's chest. It smelled of flour. It must have been on her apron.

"Everyone."

"Sith, no one is going to disappear. It's alright."

I could hear birds chirping outside. A new day was about to begin.

"Hey, Mom," I said.

"What is it?"

"Are witches really evil beings?"

Mother didn't answer.

"Are we evil beings, and is our power something that distorts God's order? Why are we-"

"Sith," Mother grabbed my shoulders and pulled me away from her chest. "Stop using that word. The word that starts with 'wit' that you just said. Understand? It's not for us to decide what's good or evil," she said in a sharp voice. "What's important is that 'this existence' has received a 'verdict' of being evil. There's no reason for it, and nothing to think about. To live happily, you see. All we can do is make sure no one realises that we are beings who have received that 'verdict'."

"But," I persisted. "There are people who say that witches aren't necessarily evil, that they're helping people."

"I told you to stop using that word!" Mother's words made my body jump. It was a quiet but angry tone.

"Sith, I don't know who you heard such talk from, but that's not reality. It's just idle talk. I heard it many times from my mother, your grandmother. How terribly our family has been treated, how frightening things we've endured."

Mother's eyes held a dark, intense light. It was as if a black, terrifying flame was burning in her pupils.

"Fingers crushed to pieces, joints broken as the whole body was stretched, forced to sign confessions without knowing what crime we had committed, burned alive," I felt a blood-curdling terror at Mother's horrifying words.

"What's just as frightening, Sith, is that it wasn't just our kind who suffered such fates. Most of the people who were turned into quivering masses like wet flour on the rack were different from us, innocent ordinary people. Do you understand what this means?"

"We... involved innocent people as collateral damage...?" I answered, trembling.

"No, Sith. No," Mother laughed as if amused. "It's what I just said. This is, Sith, a 'verdict'. A 'verdict' doesn't choose anything. Whether we have different powers than others, or such blood flows in us, that doesn't matter. It just distinguishes. Understand? There's no reason for being evil. We're evil because we're seen as evil. For those seen as evil, their very existence, their living is a sin."

I couldn't quite understand Mother's words. Only her hatred and painful feelings were conveyed to my heart. That made me sad.

Mother was crying. I was crying too.

"Sith," Mother hugged me tightly. "I'm sorry for frightening you. Sith. You've done nothing wrong. What I wanted to say is that we're not in a position to think about or express opinions on good and evil. There's no need to think about anything. We just need to behave as if we're not noticeable, as if we're not there, so we don't catch the eye of the 'verdict'. That's what living means."

Saying this, Mother kissed my forehead. I think this was her way of being kind. But I couldn't agree with some of Mother's words. Why did innocent people have to suffer such terrible fates? Why did Grandmother and the others tell their daughters such painful memories? Why aren't we allowed to have thoughts about this? I couldn't agree with any of it.

Nevertheless, I couldn't express this. I didn't know what to say or what to do. I could only nod silently while crying. Mother hugged me even tighter than before.

I'm acting against my own feelings. Tainted. I'm so tainted. If this isn't evil, then what is?

Could Alicia do it? Could she throw different words at Mother?

For the first time, I understood that there was an insurmountable chasm between myself and the rest of the world. I was far removed from the world Mother had carried on her shoulders, from the world where Alicia lived, from the world Edwin spoke of.

There was only one fact. The blood of Mother's family flows in me too.

I am a witch.

A few days later, I heard a strange rumour circulating in Ravensbrook. They say someone has come from outside town to search for witches. This man carries a silver sword.