Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 249 - 132 Former Friends

The Witches’ Gathering was in a dense forest, a fact confirmed only after passing through the hazy fog. Istara was directing the sisters in setting up the tent poles, two tall logs that had to be twenty meters apart. If the distance was off by more than a meter, several sisters’ rooms in the Witches’ tent would either fail to spread out or get torn apart. Lily watched the little girls sitting on thick wooden stakes, watching their older sisters arrange things; they weren’t getting the special treatment Mory was, and could only sit with their hands propping up their cheeks. Such round wooden stakes were everywhere, making it obvious that this place had once been a dense forest until it was recently cleared.

"Miss Lily, our preparations are complete, and our contact with the neighboring witch tribes went very smoothly." Istara, carrying a wax-covered ledger, approached Lily with the witches ready to set off on their assignments following behind her.

"Having you here is truly my good fortune, Istara." The praised Istara lowered her hat with her hand, her crushed hair hiding the blush on her freckled cheeks.

"Lady Lily, I’ll manage the camp for you properly, so please go and do what you wish without worry."

Lily stroked Istara’s cheek and smiled, drifting away like a gentle breeze.

The Vengeance Witch’s camp was on the other side of the gathering. As Lily moved along the path going uphill, she realized that this Witches’ Gathering was on a mountain, at least on a flat area halfway up. The fog wasn’t a result of witchcraft, but moisture that wouldn’t dissipate due to the high altitude.

"The Vengeance Witch still prefers lofty places, maybe they are more suited to being crows," she mused.

"Not a bad metaphor, Lily," responded a witch ten meters away, who looked as if she had just crawled out of a wet bottle. Her clothing resembled a layer of earth, covered with some grass and little mushrooms. Her skin had an oily sheen, and her features were plump, her eyes cloudy with the murkiness of someone who spent too much time in the mountains away from civilization. But the occasional glint in the depths of her eyes made one doubt whether that was a façade. She was like the witch—or perhaps the witchmother—out of a fairy tale. In fact, the role of the witch was based on her; she was Vinny, the oldest Forest Witch, the woman from fairy tales who lived deep in the mountains brewing potions. Her long life had been transformed into wisdom, and she looked just as she had when Lily first met her. Lily once wondered whether Vinny would outlive her, and indeed she had; Lily herself had passed away, but the elder was still smiling.

"Long time no see, Vinny." Nearly all the surviving witches had once benefitted from her kindness; in the community of witches, Vinny had always been a benevolent elder.

"Has it been so long, Lily? The last time I saw you feels like just yesterday to me. You still shine so brightly, time hasn’t changed you, Lily."

"Vinny, just a hint, I’m dead now."

"Oh, you’ve changed, Lily," she said, like an elderly person being told her child was grown up and moving out, clasping her cane with her wrinkled fingers intertwined. She looked up at Lily, pursed her wrinkled lips slightly, "So, you can’t give me a hug now, can you?"

Lily smiled, opened her arms, and embraced the small figure of Vinny, "Of course not, my dear Vinny, as long as you don’t mind my coldness."

Vinny pulled the crouching Lily into her cloak, as though nature itself was embracing Lily.

"You’re still the Lily I know, child. Cinderella’s plight made me think I had lost another friend. When I heard you were reborn, I was so afraid that death would make everything worse. But dear, you haven’t changed a bit in my eyes. You haven’t succumbed to death, Lily, your soul is still warm." Vinny hadn’t finished her sentence when she started coughing, taking out a small bottle of paste from her pocket under the cloak and swallowing it, which finally alleviated her cough.

"But your body is really cold."

A small joke pulled the two back to the past, and they walked up the mountain together.

"Vinny, are you here to inquire about Sesela too? About the purpose of this gathering."

"Doubts linger in the heart of every Witch Mother, this sudden gathering attracts everyone. I received a notification from the Vengeance Witch, telling us to assemble there, every Witch Mother." Vinny glanced at Lily, "It seems your little disagreement with Sesela is not over. It’s been ten years."

"That’s no small disagreement, our wills and goals have diverged, those not on the same path do not seek counsel together, there’s no possibility of reconciliation."

"Is that so?" Vinny looked at the bright silver pattern on Lily’s hand, "In my eyes, it’s just a little spat, your pursuits haven’t fundamentally differed, both are for the betterment of witches’ survival. In the future, there will certainly be an opportunity for you two to return to the past, after all, your connection has already transcended bloodlines."

"I don’t hold much regard for your view, for Sesela is nothing more than a self-righteous she-crow."

The two finally located the large tent with black feathers, which stood conspicuously in a lush conifer forest. Vinny was already busy guzzling down bottle after bottle of potion; the altitude here must have reached an incredible height, the thin air was a challenge even for the long-lived.

"Hurry up and come inside, Lily." Vinny had already crawled into the tent, the cold wind blowing outside was more than enough for her.

Inside the tent was another world, under a black backdrop numerous lit candles had to be hung, but the lampshades too were of an irksome cold hue, the center was a hall with spiral staircases leading to rooms on both sides, and in the corridors, Vengeance Witches observed the Witch Mothers of various witch tribes sitting in the center.

Here, Lily was quite familiar, she looked directly towards the location in her memory, where a stone throne once commanded dignity, now held a basket.

That was a cat’s nest, Lily cracked a knowing smile, but the cat named Veraliz was not there.

Sesela sat in the first position to the right of the throne. Her image had not changed; calling her a crow was not at all inappropriate. She was adorned with that large fur made of feathers, and a black rock partridge feather hairband peeked through her waist-length hair. Her nose was so prominent that it broke the balance of her otherwise delicate features. Thick smoky makeup aged her by ten years and lent her a certain malevolence. In truth, Sesela was indeed a petty woman.

Sesela stood up from her seat, her figure slender; beneath the large fur, her lean and tall body, graceful curves, she became the most outstanding in appearance among all the Witch Mothers, her mockery was just as striking.

"Vinny, what have you brought inside? We are not the mushrooms you cultivate, nor are we scavenging hyenas or vultures, we do not feast on corpses."