The days were growing shorter, and the air carried a chill. The piercing summer sun was fading, giving way to autumn's first whispers.

Word had spread of a man carrying a silver sword. Perhaps it was merely a rumor. I found myself wishing it would blow away with the autumn winds.

Sturdy fishing boats crowded the harbour, while Market Street began to display its seasonal bounty of pumpkins and apples. The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted from Aunt Thornberry's bakery, somehow more enticing in the cooler weather. At the tailor's shop, customers ran their fingers over thick woollen fabrics, testing their quality. Church bells rang out, speaking of harvest and preparation. Everyone was readying themselves for the seasons ahead.

The town had taken on a newfound bustle, yet I couldn't shake the feeling that winter might arrive earlier than last year.

Each morning, a white mist clung to the cobblestones like a living thing. The damp stones seemed to swallow footsteps, while the salt-laden sea breeze pierced through clothing, chilling to the marrow. I'd experienced this before. Such weather invariably heralded a harsh winter. The church bells tolled in the distance.

Instinctively, I drew my mother's hand-me-down cloak and shawl tighter around myself.

When I was small, Mother would often laugh at how I bundled up against the weather. 'You've got a special sensitivity to the movements of weather and nature's forces,' she'd say, her hand gentle on my head. The memory came with such clarity I could almost feel her touch.

"Your grandmother was the same way. She possessed great power," Mother's eyes would drift distant then, her expression a mixture of nostalgia and something harder to define.

The Ideal Realm where souls held sway, the Material Realm governed by wood, fire, and earth, the Phenomenal Realm where bodily fluids ruled the physical form. Witches could perceive these three worlds, invisible to ordinary people. Edwin's words from several weeks ago, when Alicia and I had visited him, echoed in my mind.

Since then, those words had taken root deep within me. As I went about my daily life, experiences I'd previously overlooked began to connect with Edwin's teachings. The currents flowing through me—once barely perceptible—began to take shape in my consciousness, like a pattern emerging from fog.

***

The next day, as I was restocking shelves in Valentine's shop, I felt something like a small feather duster tickling my ear. When I turned to look, I glimpsed two women with their heads close together, partially hidden behind the spice display.

I couldn't make out what they were saying. They kept glancing around nervously, as if watching for eavesdroppers.

Curious, I concentrated, trying to catch their words. A strange sensation pierced through me, like water flowing through my body. Warmth bloomed in my lower abdomen, spiralling upward, racing from my toes to my forehead in a dizzying circuit.

As this odd current passed near my ears, I suddenly heard what sounded like a squirrel's chittering.

"...saw him at the tavern last night, that man. He was asking all sorts of questions..."

Was this their conversation? Though the sounds were barely more than animal squeaks, somehow I understood their meaning. It was a peculiar sensation.

"...asking about rumours...if anyone had attended gatherings..."

"It's awful. I heard too... marks of the devil's kiss... on arms and shoulders..."

"Surely not a witch hunt...?"

"Shh! Keep your voice..."

I nearly dropped the vase I was holding, my palms suddenly slick with sweat. The words stuck in my throat. A witch hunt? Here? In Ravensbrook? The very thought seemed to steal the air from my lungs. So it wasn't just a rumour. I steadied my breathing and placed the vase on the shelf with trembling hands.

A witch hunter prowling our streets, perhaps right nearby. Fear that had existed only in imagination suddenly became real, clutching at my heart. The mere thought of a witch hunter walking down Market Street sent ice through my veins.

"Are you alright, Sith?" Valentine's large hand came to rest on my shoulder. I noticed the small scars that years of trading had left there—hands that had covered for my mistakes so many times.

I realised I could no longer hear either the squirrel-like sounds or the women's conversation.

Though curious about those strange sounds, I forced a smile and nodded. "I'm sorry, Valentine. I was just lost in thought." I didn't want to worry him. But he didn't seem convinced. His brow furrowed slightly as he studied my face.

"Something troubling you?"

"No... it's nothing."

"You're not telling me everything, are you?"

"I'm sorry," Mother's words flashed through my mind. Don't think about anything. Act as if you're invisible, as if you're not even there...

"Really... I'm fine," I managed to squeeze out.

"I understand. Sorry for prying. I was just worried about you," Valentine sighed, his expression serious.

To know someone cared so much about me—Valentine's words lifted a small weight from my heart.

"Thank you, Valentine."

I said with my brightest smile.

"Don't mention it. Though if anything happens, it'll come out of your wages. But please, just don't drop that one! It's incredibly expensive. I'm not sure a year's work would cover it!"

Valentine anxiously eyed the vase I had been holding earlier.

Oh, so that's what he was worried about... For a moment I felt deflated, but then I remembered how close I'd come to dropping it and shuddered. A whole year's wages wouldn't cover it?

Trying my best to hide my dismay, I thumped my chest with my fist, declaring "Leave it to me!" The blow was harder than intended, and I ended up in a coughing fit.

"What are you doing, Sith? You're really not inspiring confidence here..." Valentine rubbed my back as I struggled to catch my breath. Fortunately, the rest of the day passed without incident.

***

The following afternoon, grey clouds still blanketed the sky.

At first, it was merely a whisper, like dry leaves scraping against each other. Then slowly, like water seeping through cloth, I realised the sound was forming words.

'The apple...'

It had a hoarse, elderly quality to it.

I was wandering absent-mindedly down Market Street at the time. Was someone calling me? I looked around, but saw no one who might have spoken.

For some reason, I felt drawn to the voice and began wandering the street.

"Miss Sith, little miss," I turned to find Flannery greeting me with his usual smile. "Looking for something? Lost puppy?"

Without realising it, I had ended up in front of Flannery's fruit shop. He was outside, carefully arranging apples and pears in baskets. Though he wore his usual kind smile, there seemed to be a shadow lurking behind it.

"I was drawn in by the lovely smell of fruit,"

I joked, trying to cheer him up. He gave a small laugh, but quickly sighed.

"Have you heard the rumours? I used to think they were just fairy tales my grandmother told," Flannery's voice trembled slightly. "What's happening to our town? Witch hunters. They're like a disease. When I was a child, they came to a village not far from here. Never saw my friend who lived there again. That's what my grandmother told me."

He shook his head and finished arranging the fruit, then began slowly watering the herbs under his eaves.

"Sorry for such dark talk, little puppy. Even the herbs seem to be wilting."

Witch hunter. That topic again.

While my heart raced, I was more struck by Flannery's expression. His sad look as he gazed at his flower bed. I'd seen this before...

Yes.

When I first came to Ravensbrook. After fighting with Mother or when something upset me, I often took solitary walks through the market. Aimless walks weighted with heavy thoughts. That's when I noticed the sweet fragrance wafting through the street. Purple flowers. Standing in a flower bed. I stopped and silently gazed at them.

"Just planted some lavender," said a man with a bushy beard, wiping sweat from his brow. Flannery had fewer wrinkles then. "They say it soothes troubled hearts."

After giving a noncommittal response, I looked over the shop front.

"Is this a fruit shop?"

Flannery winked at my question.

"That's right. Might not look like it though."

As I stared at the colourful herbs spreading from the pots in front of the store, Flannery stood beside me and added:

"My wife loved them. What I said earlier—that was something she used to say."

As he spoke, his face took on a slightly melancholic expression. The moment I saw that look, the herb fragrance seemed to take on a different, deeper, more complex character.

"Are you going to water them? I'll help!"

The words spilled out before I knew it, noticing the watering can in Flannery's hand. He looked at me and smiled, his laugh lines deepening to their fullest.

"Thank you, little miss. In return, I'll teach you their names. Starting here we have lavender, rosemary... oh dear, my mistake, I'm Flannery—not an herb name. And you're... ah yes, Sith. Lovely name. Now, over here, this thyme..."

Stolen novel; please report.

'The apple...'

The voiceless voice pulled me back to the present. It was clearer this time. Yet Flannery showed no reaction. Could only I hear it?

I left the scene carrying several mysteries with me.

***

As days passed, the whispers grew louder. Word spread of a stranger with a silver sword asking questions about town gossip and unexplained events. A peculiar duality settled over the town—the bustling excitement of harvest preparation existing alongside an atmosphere of tension and wariness.

Market Street seemed to have expanded with its cheerful bustle, but step just one street inward and the world contracted—the passages narrowing, the shadows thickening like ink in water.

Market vendors kept their conversations brief and hushed. People grew watchful when groups gathered, their eyes sharp and suspicious.

Without quite realising when it had begun, I found myself able to hear rumours that should have been beyond my reach. Sometimes distant whispers and fragments of conversation reached my ears as clearly as if spoken nearby.

Most often, they came as sounds reminiscent of small animals. When I concentrated, I could understand them as human speech. Just like that time in Valentine's shop.

"It was a darker time when we were young," I heard such comments around town. These words came from Ravensbrook's elderly residents, their expressions tinged with an odd nostalgia.

What was this "darker time" they spoke of? Try as I might, I could find no one to explain its meaning.

***

"This is so exciting!" Alicia could barely contain her enthusiasm.

It was a melancholy day of alternating sunshine and drizzle. We walked through town, silently willing the rain to hold off.

"If there really is a witch hunter in town, it must mean there are real witches here. Don't you think?" I responded to her question with a noncommittal "Maybe."

"These beings I've only read about in books. Right here in Ravensbrook. A real witch hunter! I wonder what dangerous weapons and tools they carry? They must know about legends and secrets we've never heard of, ancient rituals we can't imagine." Alicia tried to maintain a composed tone, but her snow-white cheeks had taken on a slight flush.

I kept my eyes on the ground, watching my feet move across the uneven cobblestones.

"He hasn't come here to tell stories or put on performances," I said quietly. "If he really is a hunter. Remember what Edwin said? They're terrifying predators."

"From a hundred years ago," Alicia shrugged, then added. "But you're right. I got carried away. I'm sorry." She bowed her head slightly, making her braided hair sway. It was tied with a simpler ribbon than usual.

Noticing my gaze, Alicia smiled, looking slightly pleased.

"Can you tell? I've started doing my own hair. Braiding is quite challenging," she said, touching her hair self-consciously while examining my braid. "Do you think people might mistake us for charming sisters?"

Alicia wore a simple dress without cuffs, with a warm-coloured cape draped lightly over her shoulders. We both had braided hair and similar outfits.

Of course, looking closely at Alicia's dress, the linen was soft and lustrous, her cape showing no signs of repair. Though similar in style, they were worlds apart from my clothes.

"I doubt it. I'm far from charming," I said mischievously.

"Sith, I've told you before—it's not good to put yourself down."

"I haven't said anything about myself yet."

"Oh... Was my outfit really that strange? I just wanted to match with you..." Alicia's voice grew small as she lowered her head. My chest suddenly felt tight.

"Alicia, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

I took a step toward her. She turned away, fidgeting with her hair through her gloves.

"I spent all last night choosing this outfit, I was so looking forward to it..." Alicia's voice trembled.

"Alicia, I'm the one who isn't charming. You're lovely. I'm sorry for being so mean."

"What's lovely about me?"

Caught off guard by the unexpected question, I stammered. "Well, um. Your small nose, and soft lips, like a porcelain doll. And you're so educated and clever..."

"What else?"

"And, well... your beautiful hair... and you're clever, and like a doll..."

As I cast about desperately for words, Alicia suddenly turned to face me with a mischievous grin. "Sith, I'm flattered by all the compliments. But you really should read more books! I'll borrow some from Father's study for you." She stuck out her tongue playfully.

I froze for a moment before realising her ploy.

"Oh, you were teasing me!"

"Hehe, just returning the favour."

We stifled our laughter in the middle of the street. This always happened when I bantered with Alicia—I'd end up losing. But somehow, I never minded.

"Still, the hunter might know things beyond our understanding. That much must be true," Alicia said, returning to her earlier topic after our laughter subsided.

"Perhaps," I replied noncommittally, avoiding her gaze.

"Sith, I read something in Father's study," Alicia said earnestly, meeting my evasive eyes. "There were prisoners chained in a cave who grew up seeing only shadows on the wall. They believed these shadows were real people. But if they were freed and taken outside..."

Her words made my heart skip. After some thought, I replied, "Are you saying I'm the prisoner?"

Alicia shook her head. Taking my hand, she continued:

"The sudden brightness would be blinding. It would be frightening, seeing things that were invisible before. Like mice, they might scurry back into the cave. But what if someone was there with them? ... Sith, eyes adjust to the light eventually. We're afraid because we're seeing things differently than before. If it's frightening, we need only understand it."

Though our hands were gloved, I could feel her warmth flowing into me. Like snowmelt on a spring day, a warm, gentle current seemed to pass from her to me. The sensation tingled pleasantly, as if flowing from our joined hands through my shoulders, from my chest to my head, down to my feet and back to my heart again.

In that moment, my mind cleared as if a fog had lifted. Though grasping what Alicia was trying to tell me was challenging, I found myself thinking harder than I ever had before.

"How do we come to understand?"

My question might have seemed foolish compared to Alicia's wisdom. Yet remaining silent felt far more foolish.

Curiously, Alicia blinked and looked skyward. When she registered my question, she turned her emerald green eyes directly to mine and said:

"I think we need to put it into words."

Put it into words. In the beginning was the word. These feelings of mine...

I'm afraid. Yes, I'm afraid. Of Mother's hatred, of strangers, of myself and the possibility of betraying someone.

Her words gradually illuminated the depths of my heart that I'd been avoiding. Perhaps I needed to know more. About myself. And about the people around me.

With this thought came a strange surge of optimism. While not all my fears and anxieties disappeared, I began to see, just slightly, what I needed to do.

"Alicia, there's something I want to tell you," I found myself saying.

My words drew an expression from her that was both surprised and somehow knowing.

"Why so formal all of sudden?"

"Well..." I faltered, images of Mother, Father, and my sister flashing through my mind. "I can't tell you just yet. But when the time comes, I want you to listen."

Realising I might be putting my family in danger, I quickly backtracked. I wasn't ready to reveal my secret to her yet.

For that...

"Alicia, I need to go somewhere!"

She watched my excited state with a puzzled expression.

"Strange Sith," she said with a smile as I bid her farewell and took off running.

***

"Mr. Flannery, do you have a stove at home?"

"Eh? Well, of course I do." Flannery's eyes widened at both my sudden appearance and unexpected question as I stood there catching my breath.

Between pants, I managed to get my message across:

"Please put some apples on your stove. Maybe before bed at night. I'm sure the herbs will be livelier in the morning!"

I grabbed his hand, adding, "They'll definitely perk up, so please try it!"

Leaving Flannery looking as if he'd seen a fairy, I started running again.

I didn't understand why. I just needed to run. With each step, my body sensed something new. The cobblestones beneath my feet, the autumn air filling my lungs, my heartbeat—everything felt sharper, more vivid than before. My untrained legs quickly tangled, my breathing grew ragged. Wheezing with each breath, barely distinguishing between running and walking, I thought.

The prisoner in the cave. That was me. Living in a dark cellar, watching only my own shadow. But Alicia's light had illuminated the exit. Gradually, I was beginning to see what lay beyond.

What existed on the other side that I hadn't seen before?

I didn't know. I'd never even tried to look. But surely there was a path. A path to becoming someone different from the prisoner I'd been. I wanted to move forward. I wanted to know what lay ahead.

I stumbled and fell when I reached the square in front of the town hall. Fortunately, I landed on dirt, only dirtying my skirt. Remaining on my knees, I focused on simply breathing in and out.

Had I gone mad? Others might think so. But unlike before, I found myself strangely unconcerned with what people might think.

My stomach ached from running too much. Yet I was so excited I felt I could start running again after a brief rest. In this mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration at being driven by some unknown force, I listened intently to the fierce pounding of my own heart.

***

I was standing at the threshold of understanding myself. Yet like shadows glimpsed at twilight, these insights remained vague and just beyond my reach. There was another meaning to the cave allegory. But I would need more time before I could grasp it.