Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 240 - 227 Witch Hunt

In the deep valley, the continuous forest was shrouded in a dense fog. It was as if nature here greatly despised the light, blocking the nearby sun from its sanctuary. Moist soil teemed with green moss, and the cool humidity enveloped the woods. When you walked through such dense forest, you could be deluded into thinking that ice and snow were kissing your ankles.

The mist spread to the deep recesses of the dense forest, gradually taking on a hue otherworldly. From the distant mountains came the cries of wild beasts, singing the tranquility of nature. Trees swayed their tender branches in the wind, playing a green wind organ.

Soon in this symphony, discordant noises appeared.

The sound of fabric rubbing against dried branches, like the incessant buzz of insects flapping their wings, turned time back to that scorching summer dominated by cicadas.

From the depths of the leaves, from the shadowy shrubs, the little rascals revealed themselves. Their heads stitched from coarse cloth with mismatched button eyes looked around as the cloth dolls sized up their surroundings. glancing left and right, they quickly retreated back into the bushes as if shy, but then hopped back promptly to their master’s side, climbing up a pallid arm.

The cloth doll sprawled on its master’s shoulder, its two fingerless hands covering the mouth represented by thin threads, stealthily whispering into its master’s ear in a language not of humans.

Its master was in fact no different, donned in a tattered, dusty dress. The faded garment was just like her skin. Her slender frame was like a stalk of hemp, her face adorned with a pallid mask. Her hair looked like dry, tangled straw spilling out from under a pointed, small top hat.

Listening to the doll’s murmur, she nodded continuously. Walking forward like a marionette, her bare pale feet became muddied, resembling a ghost of the forest. The mask was removed from her face, revealing the girl’s pallid complexion heavy with the weight of death, her beautiful eyes’ pupils contracted to pinpoints. She was very pretty, but with features so still, she resembled a mask more than the pallid one she wore.

Miss Marionette turned her head, looking at the bushes she had emerged from.

"There is no danger, sisters."

One by one, girls of her size came out of the bushes, taking off their masks and disguises, indistinguishable from Miss Marionette. They formed a group, a coven of witches. They looked at each other, surveying their surroundings. Their eyeballs whirled in their sockets; without a word, yet they could still feel an atmosphere of ease surrounding them.

Soon, more witches emerged from the bushes. The woman leading the second group was a bit taller than the others, and she floated. She came before Miss Marionette, her cold voice tinged with a hint of reproach.

"Fergenie, you should be more cautious. Reconnaissance is the most dangerous task, and you... you must also take responsibility for your own safety."

Fergenie cocked her head, the cloth familiar perched on her shoulder mimicking the same gesture as its master.

"I understand, Miss Lily. I just do not want to miss the gathering."

Lily knew that the girl did not grasp her words, for within Fergenie’s care, she never included herself. Ever since Fergenie’s death, her self-awareness had been absent. Lily slowed her speech, attempting to soften her chilly voice.

"We have already arrived quite early, Fergenie. Ever since we left Andrey, we have been hastening towards the gathering. Coming here, we are sure not to be late. We have not been delayed much along the way."

"Because we are already dead, aren’t we?"

"Death cannot separate us; death is only our beginning."

The Witch of Death and the wights were not quite the same; even if their bodies had become corpses or rather marionettes, they could still feel and possess emotions. After enduring the ceaseless journey, at last entering a safe place, perhaps everyone could breathe a sigh of relief and ease their taut nerves. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

Given the permission from Miss Lily to rest briefly, all the witches let out expressionless cheers. They gathered in small groups but in truth, there wasn’t much to do. Death had stripped them of most pleasures, leaving them only to chat with their sisters.

"My sister, may I trade the hem of my dress for your bracelet? I love the color of your bracelet, and I want to use it to cover my wound," a witch said, tearing the edge off her pale blue dress while it still retained its color. Around her neck was a ghoulish gash, now magically held together, only the surface showing signs of decay.

"Of course you may, dear, I happen to need some fabric myself, but how did you get that wound?"

"It was a Paladin, skilled with his sword, who lopped off my head. I didn’t suffer much when I died and I am quite grateful for that. The cut on my neck is very small; your wristband fits just fine."

"A perfect exchange, my sister," the Witch without the wristband praised her companion’s new choker. Her chest bore a ghastly gash through which one could see her back from the front, "I want to make a corsage to wear on the front, so no one will call me ’See-through Liley’ anymore."

"I can help you with that, my mother taught me some tricks for noble’s dresses before she passed."

Just like the tea parties they had had during their lifetimes, they began to discuss. Their voices were delicate, infusing a hint of life into the dense forest.

"Mory, where are you going? Miss Lily told us not to leave the camp."

Mory looked at her little friend, stamping her feet in irritation right there.

"Rola! You’re such a boring spoil-sport!" Mory, already restless from being cooped up, decided to throw caution to the wind, "I’m going hunting! I’m going to get my own trophy."

Rola called out Mory’s name, following closely behind her.

They traversed under the banyan tree, through the intricate tangle of vines, stepping on the smooth pebbles beside the stream, in search of any possible animals.

The two lay side by side, their heads resting on a bed woven from moss.

"Damn, there’s not even a rabbit here."

"It’s better that way. We can’t even eat meat, so why hurt them for fun?"

"You fool, Rola, it’s obviously because I’m stronger! It’s natural for the strong to kill the weak!"

"Grandmom Saffiano says it’s not right to bully the weak because you’re bigger."

"She’s lying, then why does that glowing man bully us?"

"...I don’t know."

After an hour, Mory grew impatient.

"What a waste of time, let’s go back, Rola."

Rola grabbed Mory’s arm, preventing her from standing. She pointed at a stone not far away, her eyes on Mory, and her voice filled with surprise.

"Mory, do you see it?"

"A cat."