The Devil's Cursed Witch

Ember lay in bed, staring lifelessly at the empty ceiling.

She was in too much pain to even let out a groan, let alone move a single finger or turn her head. She had also stopped crying some time ago since she no longer had tears to shed, no, she was too exhausted to cry. Her entire body was throbbing in pain, especially her hands, but it was nothing compared to the suffering of being stitched with a heated needle.

Fearing he would do something worse as punishment, she simply surrendered to his will like a broken doll, not letting out a single groan or cry even after he finished stitching her thigh.

Once that cruel red-eyed man left, only then did she feel she could breathe.

Ember felt like she passed out for several minutes, and when she came back to her senses, her parched throat burned. She tried to look around the room, but the moment she lifted her head, she felt dizzy.

“W-Water…”

Her mind tried to recall where the water jar was, but the world continued to sway around her and she almost fumbled out of the bed.

Clank! Clank!

To her surprise, she heard a strange sound approach her. Despite her dizziness, she managed to lift her head just in time to see a small wooden stool moving on its own, carrying a clay jar filled to the brim with water, as if to say she should drink without needing to leave her bed.

A cold realization swept her skin, causing goosebumps to appear, as she looked at the closed door of her home.

‘Did he return?’

She was not the one to make that clay container move so Draven could be the only culprit. At this point, she was so scared of that red-eyed man she felt like she would rather pass out again than see him.

However, aside from her, her house was empty.

That caused her heart to calm down, but it also caused her headache to return with a vengeance, along with dizziness and nausea. She felt like she should go to sleep, but the moment she closed her eyes, she realized she simply could not bear the thirst.

With her last bit of strength, she drank water and lay in bed quietly afterwards. She was still bleeding from her other unattended injuries and her bed reeked of blood, but not an ounce of energy could be squeezed out of her body.

Weakness engulfed her and she drifted to sleep, not caring if she would be alive or dead the next day.

—–

Leeora was happily humming a tune when she came to see Ember the next morning. She woke up earlier than usual that day to bake extra apple pies for breakfast, remembering how the human girl seemed to like sweets based on the random food they ate yesterday while roaming Ronan.

She knocked on the door, and as usual, there was no response from inside.

“Ember, it’s me, Leeora. I am coming in,” Leeora said and entered the house, only to be assaulted with a thick smell of blood. “Dear spirits! Ember!”

The unconscious girl was covered in blood. The new dress she was wearing was dirty and torn, and the bandages on the rest of her body had all fallen apart.

The basket in Leeora’s hand nearly fell on the floor as the elf hurried towards the human girl, but it was fortunately caught by one of the tree vines she moved with her power.

“What happened to this child?”

Instead of her condition improving, it worsened.

Leeora wondered if Ember was attacked within the city, but she immediately shook her head. Elves were generally pacifist creatures, and Wood Elves were one of the most peace-loving among the clans. Even if some of the normal elders and older elves hated humans because they lost their loved ones to them, at most, they would only complain to Leeora or stay away from Ember. They would not dare attack the guest of the King.

The High Elder went to inspect the unconscious girl and saw the injury on her hands and the fresh scratches on her face. She also saw her thigh which looked like it was covered with fresh bandages. “Did she treat herself before she passed out? What exactly happened to her? How did she get hurt?”

She looked around the house to search for a clue if someone had intruded, but there was none. Aside from her room which reeked heavily of blood, there was nothing else suspicious in the house.

‘Alas, I wish I could ask the tree spirit what happened, but not only can the tree spirit not talk, the covenant we Wood Elves signed with their race protected the privacy of the owner of the house.’

Leeora sat on the edge of the bed and checked Ember’s pulse. It was weaker than yesterday and she felt worried. Looked like she had lost lots of blood. Leeora looked around for something that she left inside Ember’s house for her, but she could not find it.

‘I don’t see my bottles. Where are the elixirs I gave her? I remember putting all of them on this table. Ember shouldn’t have drank them yet. Even if she did, the bottles should be here. But not a single bottle can be found…?’

She was not particularly worried about the elixirs she made but the vitality potion that Cornelia Grimm, the Head Witch, had sent were precious ones. They were so rare a single porcelain bottle could only be produced in a decade, and they were more effective for human use as compared to the ones she made which were suited for elves.

‘What if Ember had not drunk it, but rather, someone else had taken it? Is there a thief in this city?’

Leeora searched for each and every corner of the house, but she could find neither her handmade elixirs nor the witch’s vitality potion.

‘Who dared steal it?! To target this poor child!’