"16 November 1664: Ten witches were discovered holding a gathering in Thornwick, western Caldoria. Following their arrest and detention by authorities, a 30-day interrogation resulted in confessions and other evidence being submitted. Fifty days later, the trial of the sole surviving witch commenced (nine suspects had perished due to unforeseen accidents during the interrogation)."

(Caldoria Daily)

"20 March 1719: The famine and plague ravaging the mainland show no signs of abating! Crops wither, fields die, countless children fall victim, and the streets are rife with rats and the stench of decay! Governor, take action immediately!"

(Activist group bulletin)

"5 July 1722: A witch was discovered manufacturing and selling illegal drugs in Witherdale, southwestern Caldoria. She had been exploiting pregnant women and others for experimental drugs, as well as for the illicit use of plants smuggled from the East. It is believed she was attempting to expand witch activity within the town. Based on the informant's report, an inquisitor's investigation led to a large-scale inquiry, involving the witch suspect’s family, friends, and acquaintances. One witch was indicted, and 29 townspeople died. Regarding the deaths during the investigation, the district inquisitor commented, 'It was necessary for the inquiry.'"

(Local Gazette)

***

What is the most beautiful thing in this world? It's been two years since that day, and I still think about it. That devil answered so easily.

I was fourteen. I realised my body was changing as I secretly washed my undergarments, hidden from my family.

When I first saw that red stain, the emotion that rushed through me was close to fear. But more than that, what drove me was the overwhelming need to make sure no one found out.

On the second morning, I felt weak and unsteady from the pain and fatigue. So, I didn’t immediately notice Mother passing behind me as I washed the cloths in the bucket.

"Sith," I heard her call. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest. But in reality, my body froze, unable to respond.

"Disgusting. Just throw it away," Mother said, continuing on as though nothing had happened.

As my heartbeat began to settle, my shock slowly transformed into something else. My heart sank like a stone into dark waters, burdened by the awful things she had said. Then, gradually, all I could feel was a deep sense of guilt.

I’m sorry for hiding. I’m sorry for keeping quiet. I’m sorry for making her say something so cruel…

I found myself apologising to the water-filled bucket. But to whom? Why was I apologising?

No matter how much I thought about it, I couldn’t put it into words. Perhaps, I thought, it’s because I’m tainted. Strangely enough, thinking that made me feel a little lighter.

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Since then, I’ve wondered about it constantly. What is beauty? Why am I so tainted?

The room I’m in now. The ceiling is low, and the attic feels cramped. The old wooden window frame is filled with dust in its cracks. Cleaning it would take some clever effort. The sunlight streaming through the window is faint, casting long shadows on the weathered floorboards.

It's an old house, but I don’t mind. It feels as though its history is etched into every corner, and that excites me. Besides, it’s not too perfect. Just like me…

I blew the dust from the window frame and sat cross-legged on the bed. Reaching for the small wooden box sitting on the even smaller side table, I opened it.

Inside were scraps of parchment and dried flowers. Among them lay a soft bracelet woven with red and green threads.

The colours of the deep forest surrounding Ravensbrook. And Alicia’s rich, fiery red hair.

It was the bracelet we made together. Laughing over a lunch spoon that rolled away, sharing small secrets we couldn’t tell our mothers. We made it together.

It’s been two years since those days with Alicia. To me, it feels like a time so long that the world has changed three times over. But at the same time, it feels like it was only yesterday.

It was on a warm summer day.

Burning streets, hunters, their silver swords raised, ancient spells, and Alicia wielding magic.

The thought of it makes my chest tighten painfully.

"Alicia," I realised I was whispering. Even in the stillness of the room, my voice was barely audible.

I think of her. When I do, a cold, dark feeling washes over me, followed by a soft, warm one. As though they were holding hands. As though we were still holding hands.

It’s always like this when I think of Alicia.

Her bright laughter echoing through the market street. Her wide eyes as we explored Valentine’s shop. The warmth of her hand as we ran through Ravensbrook’s winding roads. Was it really only a few months? No, for me, it felt like the longest time in my life. Even if, now, it belongs to the devil instead of her.

A light knock on the door startled me from my thoughts.

"Sith?" Mother’s voice was hesitant, unlike before. "Dinner’s ready."

"I’m coming." I quickly wiped my eyes and responded.

I returned the bracelet to the box and carefully placed it under the bed. Standing, I looked at my reflection in the small mirror hanging on the wall.

I’m shorter than most girls my age. Maybe a little too thin, as Mother keeps telling me to eat more. But my face is round. My reddish-brown hair is coarse, with strands sticking out of my braid here and there. My amber eyes, slightly dark, have green flecks in them.

Nothing like Alicia. Just a scrawny little thing. Looking at myself makes me feel a little sad. But the cardigan Grandma gave me is warm and soft. Wearing it makes me feel just a little more confident.

I love literature, and I spend most of my time reading books. I’m clumsy, timid, and shy.

Father is a poet, and Mother is a seamstress. My younger sister, just a year younger than me, has a bright smile like the sun. She’s very cute, unlike me.

I wonder if I’ve changed at all since that day two years ago. I ask my reflection in the mirror. Perhaps, I haven’t changed much.

But there is one thing that has moved forward.

What is the most beautiful thing in this world? I reached out to the mirror. My left hand touched its surface. The reflection showed my right hand extended. The blood-black mark etched on my arm was visible. But in the reflection, it was hidden in shadow.

This must be how it is. Beauty and filth exist side by side. That day, I learned that truth.

My name is Sith Cumaill.

This is a short tale about me and Alicia, the warm people of Ravensbrook, and the witches.