Chapter 109: You Should Never Trust A Witch
Ahspid settled into a chair positioned behind a small, round wooden table, its surface painted a deep, matte black. He then lowered the hood of his cloak, revealing his features to the dim light of the witch’s cabin. He still hesitated to fully shed the cloak, knowing the biting cold outside mirrored the frigid atmosphere indoors.
Surveying the interior of Bjarna’s secluded house, a structure she had meticulously crafted over years of solitary existence, Ahspid could not suppress a pang of nostalgia.
’Even during her days in the Capital, her dwelling bore this same familiar semblance. She does not like change. It is as if she’s woven from the very fabric of resistance, an unyielding force tethered to her essence.’
The witch’s cabin, though small, exuded an atmosphere far from cozy. Enveloped in ominous darkness and haunted by the chilling howls of drafts, it remained a place miles away from comfort.
Tiny windows nestled under the roof were tightly shrouded in dark purple cloth, casting the interior into a perpetual gloom. The blackwood floors stretched like an abyss beneath, swallowing any semblance of warmth or light. Strange trophies adorned the walls - tiny animal carcasses, bird skulls, and the pelts of bizarre beasts unfamiliar to Ahspid. Meanwhile, tall black candles stood sentinel in every corner, their feeble orange flames flickering in harmony, guided by the icy fingers of the draft.
’Dark and cold, akin to the embrace of death. It suits her well,’ Ahspid reflected, his gaze drifting to Bjarna, who was engrossed in the preparation of herbal tea.
Like any witch across the realms, Bjaran maintained an obsession with her appearance. Despite the passage of many decades, she retained a youthful face that mirrored Ahspid’s memories.
Standing among the shorter women he’d encountered, Bjaran’s slender frame was accentuated by the persistent black attire she favored. Her complexion resembled freshly fallen snow, yet it was her striking features that left an indelible mark - from the flawlessly shaped pink lips to the thick black lashes framing her deep silver eyes.
Yet, two distinct attributes set her apart from her witch brethren: the cascade of long, flowing gray hair and a multitude of runic tattoos. These intricate markings, her personal witchcraft etched upon flesh and face alike, served as a barrier, safeguarding her soul from the ominous powers she wielded.