Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 251 - 234: The Expressionless Flame Witch

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"Eve, I think this is a terrible idea," Frannie stopped her work, leaning over the mechanical equipment she had purchased especially for this occasion, complaining to her friend standing next to her on a small booth at the gathering.

Frannie watched the witches passing by, making brief eye contact with a few thin women before quickly looking away the next second.

Her companion finally responded.

"What?"

"I said, standing in for the Elemental Witch here to recruit new members is a terrible idea." Falani waited for her companion’s response, her own doubts growing with the odd looks from other passing witches.

"What?" The same reply, which sufficiently proved that Eve was just humoring her.

"Can you put down that damned bottle of alcohol!"

The short, grey-haired Eve stood on a wooden countertop, juggling several flaming bottles of alcohol, like she was performing an acrobatic act.

"I can’t, this job requires my full attention. I’m playing with fire, Falani, and so are you."

"I have absolutely no idea how your juggling act with the bottles and my shaved ice machine over here is supposed to attract newcomers. We are Witches! Witches! We pursue witchcraft, not juggling or cooking!"

Eve caught the flaming bottles one by one from midair and poured the fiery liquid into cups, lining them up on the counter. She glanced coldly at her frazzled companion.

"You’re insulting chefs." When Frannie was about to fly off the handle, Eve cleverly steered back to the topic.

"The idea of recruiting for the Elemental Witch is indeed awful, but there’s no other way. The Witches’ district in the City of Wandering has declared non-involvement in witch disputes, opting for peace, just like us. It has to be said that settling in a moving city really is the safest choice. Every witch at the gathering has her own obsessions, and we all have seeds of hatred in our hearts; we’re not as open-minded as humans. The Elemental Witch, who chose stability, is not qualified to enter the witches’ gathering, so she entrusted us, the Witches of Death."

"The results are not good, though."

"Don’t have any expectations for yourself. We are different from these witches too. The title of death makes us a source of unease for them. So, just do our best, and then fail."

After arranging the bottles, Eve reached for a cup that was sliding at the edge of the counter. She easily held the slowly moving cup, the red liquor swirling on top. Eve grabbed the air, staring at the space in front of the cup; her voice was as hollow as a machine’s.

"You’re not old enough to drink, little sister."

In Eve’s hand appeared a pale little hand, its color slowly extending through the air until a little girl in tattered clothes stood before her. Expressionless, she mirrored Eve so precisely that, to Frannie, it seemed like looking at two sides of a mirror.

The disheveled girl tried to move her wrist but was held firmly by Eve. After attempting to pull away three times, she gave in.

"I need alcohol, big sister."

"What for? Next time you try to cozy up, add some adjectives like ’beautiful’ or ’pretty’; that’s how you win people over."

"I want to use the alcohol to clean a wound, beautiful big sister."

"It seems you’re also a clever one. Adjectives don’t work on me, though."

"..."

Eve spun the girl’s little hand around, "The wound? Where is it?"

"On someone else."

"Lead me to them, and I’ll give you the alcohol." 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

"Okay." The little girl agreed without hesitation.

Eve nodded back at her, "Frannie, hold on to this girl while I prepare the alcohol. She’s going to try to run."

Frannie did as she was told, holding the little girl and forming some small ice crystals in the surrounding air.

"Eve, how did you know she was going to run? She’s as expressionless as you are. Do you have a special way of communicating?"

"Look into her eyes, she’s not good at lying." Following Eve’s advice, Frannie looked at the little girl in her arms and saw emptiness, nothing but her own sense of being played.

Eve was ready with the alcohol, leading the little girl like family. The girl’s gaze remained fixed on that cup of red alcohol.

"That’s high-proof; if you’re not looking to disinfect, torture is another use for it."

The little girl led them behind a tent to a hidden corner where the hill bulged, where a few broken branches with leaves served as crude camouflage. Beneath the camouflage was a layer of ochre tarp, under which curled a figure on the canvas of the tent. Another little girl, bearing a deep wound on her shoulder, through which dark red flesh could be seen.

She appeared to be sleeping, trapped in a nightmare. But in reality, the little girl was suffering from hunger, cold, and weakness. Such a fragile life would not survive the coming winter, likely meeting her end right there.

"Lianka is my friend. She took me in when my parents kicked me out, but soon after, she became a witch too. I don’t know if it’s my fault, my presence..." As Eve cleaned Lianka’s wound, she listened to the girl’s monologue.

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"What’s your name?"

"Jacqueline."

Eve poured some alcohol into Lianka’s mouth, then handed the bottle to Jacqueline, "Want a sip?"

"You just said... minors can’t drink."

"I’m not your mother, you don’t have to listen to me."

"I don’t want to drink." Jacqueline turned her attention to Lianka, and the alcohol seemed to have had some effect; Lianka’s flushed face had become much calmer.

"Why don’t you bandage the wound?"

"I don’t know how." Eve openly admitted her incompetence, not caring about maintaining an adult’s image.

"That..." Not far away, a young witch with a black cat appeared behind the four, and Kurona’s hands clasped in front of her, "I can bandage it, may I try?"

Eve and the Ankara black cat exchanged glances, then stepped aside.

Kurona took off a large feather from her body and quickly bandaged Lianka’s wound.

"She needs rest, warm food, and a fire. I am a Revenge Witch, and I can provide all that." Kurona carefully looked at Jacqueline, who was much shorter than her, waiting for the child to make her choice.

Jacqueline looked at Eve.

"I want to go with you."

Eve hugged Lianka in her arms and led everyone towards the Witch of Death’s camp.

"You can go, but you can’t join us."

"Why?"

"Because I am the Witch of Death."

Jacqueline followed closely behind Eve, stubbornly taking small steps as the second in line.

"Is it joyful after death?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because you seem joyful."

Eve paused for a second, glanced at Frannie, then looked down at Jacqueline, "You’re mistaken."

Kurona followed behind them, worried about Lianka on one hand and about herself on the other. "Lady Vira, should we really be entering the Witch of Death’s camp? I heard Lord Cesela say that the Witch of Death isn’t on good terms with us."

Vira Cat stretched its body, arching its back.

"Of course, we should go. The Witch of Death is nice, meow, and there is even a lovely girl about Kurona’s age. You guys can become friends."

In the camp, Vira Cat, Kurona, and Mory with a bunch of gifts gathered together, and Lianka was left in the careful care of Istara.

Eve and Jacqueline, one tall and one short witch, sat by the campfire inside the tent.

"I will definitely repay you." Jacqueline’s voice was determined, not at all like that of an eleven or twelve-year-old girl.

"You won’t get the chance. As one of the dead, I don’t want anything."

Jacqueline seemed to have all her strength drawn out of her, sitting with her legs hugged, gazing into the flames of the campfire, lost in thought.

"..."

Eve extended her palm, and the flames, under her power, transformed into a dancing figure of fire.

"I’ve heard that witches who learn the Flame Curse become very passionate. I don’t feel it."

"Jacqueline, can you help me verify this? Can you do it? Be a passionate witch?"

In Jacqueline’s eyes, reflected by the flickering figure of the little fire person, she buried her face in her knees and whispered in a voice as small as a mosquito’s.

"I can try."