Witch Glinde

(――Mom)

The faint light illuminated the ground at her feet.

Her footsteps echoed softly, and when she stopped walking, the sound lingered briefly before fading away, as if she were submerged deep underwater.

She felt a familiar warmth in her hand, carrying a sense of nostalgia. It came from her mother, who was holding her hand as they ascended the dark spiral staircase together.

(If we can just get there, we’ll be able to escape from here...)

A faint beam of light pierced the darkness. Looking up to the top of the spiral staircase, a single ray of light descended from the ceiling, its faint remnants barely reaching down to them.

Anyone engulfed in darkness would likely act the same way. Her feet naturally gravitated toward the light, and with each step, the stairs creaked beneath her.

It was like the moment a heavy stone is cast into a still body of water. Suddenly, a dull and unfamiliar sound reverberated through the spiral staircase. In her haste, her mother tripped and fell to her hands on the ground.

She turned back in a panic. Fortunately, there were no injuries. Releasing the grip on her mother’s hand, the girl extended it once again to help her up. Her mother smiled and took her daughter’s hand, standing to her feet.

As they turned forward to resume their climb, a heavy, unfamiliar sound echoed once more from within the staircase. This time, it carried a terrible weight to it.

“...It’s useless. Someone like you will never escape.”

A cold sweat trickled down her neck. When she turned around, there it was—a skeletal figure draped in tattered black cloth, holding a large scythe, staring up at them from a few steps below.

(No!)

Gripping her mother’s hand tightly, she broke into a run toward the light above. The pounding of their frantic steps echoed through the spiral staircase, creating a chaotic and irregular rhythm.

“...I told you. It’s useless.”

The voice carried a sinister undertone, almost as if it was laughing.

“...You cannot save her.”

Suddenly, the girl’s arm was jolted downward as her mother’s hand slipped away. She turned around to see the skeletal figure grabbing her mother’s leg, dragging her downward into the abyss of the spiral staircase.

“...You can’t save her.”

The skeleton grinned even wider as it dragged her mother further and further away.

Her mother desperately reached out toward her. The girl stretched her hand out as well, but their fingertips could not meet.

“...It’s impossible for you.”

The skeletal figure halted its movements, turning its gaze toward the girl. It raised its large scythe high above her mother.

“You cannot save anyone.”

“NOOOOOOO!”

The girl let out a piercing scream as she woke up. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead like a waterfall.

After taking a few deep, shaky breaths, she finally realized she was back in her own bed—her familiar bed where she always slept.

(...That dream again.)

Her name was Olivia. She was fourteen years old, with jewel-like green eyes, hair like strands of golden silk that fell to her shoulders, and pale cheeks lightly dusted with freckles, traits characteristic of the people in this region.

Since the death of her mother—the only family she had left—a month ago, she had been plagued by nightmares every single night.

(...Mother.)

She vividly remembered her mother’s face, twisted in pain as she lay in the corner of the room, feverish and bedridden. But most of all, Olivia could not forget the overwhelming weakness she felt, unable to do anything but sit by her mother’s side during her suffering.

Thinking back, her mother’s health had started to decline after a trip to town with acquaintances. It began with a dry cough—symptoms that seemed no more serious than a common cold. Olivia had assumed, as always, that with enough rest, her mother would recover quickly.

However, her condition worsened day by day. Her body grew frail, and eerie bluish bruises began to spread across her skin as if she had been battered. The symptoms perfectly matched those of a plague that had ravaged this country nearly two centuries ago.

A disease thought to have been eradicated—why had it returned? And why had it taken her mother?

Death.

Her father had died before she was old enough to remember him. This was the first time she had been so close to death—so painfully aware of it.

She had assumed that her daily life would continue as it always had, that it would always be there, unchanging. She now realized, far too late, that everything eventually comes to an end.

There had been so much she wanted to tell her mother, so many things she had left unsaid. Why had the end come so quickly?

Every night, her unanswered questions and regrets would take shape in her nightmares and torment her.

With a deep sigh, Olivia felt some of her tension ease. It was then that she finally noticed the relentless pounding of the wind and rain outside. Perhaps the storm was the reason she had dreamed of that dark spiral staircase. The sound of rain and water coursing down the roof and windows made her feel as though she were submerged in a river.

Amidst the howling storm, a faint rattling noise came from outside, followed by a dull thud against the house’s wall. It could have been a bucket blown away by the strong wind—the same one she used to draw water from the neighborhood well.

With a heavy sigh, Olivia dragged herself out of bed. She lit the candle in the corner of her room and headed for the front door. The wooden door, which she usually opened with ease, now felt as heavy as a stone—perhaps because she had barely eaten anything recently.

When she opened it, rain poured down in torrents, hammering the ground like a waterfall.

Sticking close to the house to avoid getting wet, she headed toward the source of the noise. Just as she had suspected, the bucket she used for drawing water was spinning wildly in the wind, faintly illuminated by the candlelight streaming through a glass window.

──Rumble, rumble…

The moment she reached out to grab the bucket, it happened.

A deafening roar erupted, so loud it drowned out the sound of the rain. A blinding flash of light pierced through her entire body.

“Lightning!?”

From the sound of it, the strike had landed frighteningly close. Olivia instinctively looked around.

“What… is that?”

When she turned her gaze toward the meadow across from the Shumerck Forest, she noticed something there. In the pitch darkness, something faintly glowed white.

Narrowing her eyes to focus, she saw it was a tall, pillar-like shape with a round object at its top, covered in what appeared to be fabric.

(Could that be… a person?)

It resembled the kneeling form of a human being.

As she squinted to get a better look, the figure suddenly crumbled and collapsed to the ground.

(Could someone have been struck by lightning!?)

That thought propelled Olivia forward at full speed toward the glowing figure. She didn’t care about the rain or the mud splattering her clothes.

A few seconds later, she reached the glowing form and gasped. Lying in the muddy ground was a woman with pure white skin and hair as white as freshly fallen snow. Her ethereal appearance made her seem almost otherworldly.

The woman wore a flowing robe, resembling the kind depicted in myths as the attire of divine beings. Her delicate face gave the impression of being older than Olivia, but her faintly glowing form was so surreal that she no longer seemed human.

Here, near the Shumerck Forest—a place long feared and shunned by people—few humans lived. Olivia herself had grown up in this house since infancy, but she had never seen this woman before.

With her eyes closed and her face contorted in pain, the woman exuded no sense of malice. If anything, she seemed more like a divine messenger who had fallen from the heavens.

“...Ugh.”

As Olivia stared in wonder, the woman’s lips parted slightly, and a faint voice escaped them. At the same time, her closed eyes fluttered open slightly.

Startled, Olivia instinctively stepped back. A few breaths later, she hesitantly spoke.

“...Um, are you alright?”

The woman turned her face toward Olivia. Her unfocused gaze seemed unable to pinpoint her location, staring blankly into the void.

“...Gl…inde…”

Her weak voice was barely audible over the storm.

“Pardon?”

Olivia knelt down, bringing her ear closer to the woman’s lips.

“Glinde…”

“Gl… Glinde?”

The woman extended her hand toward Olivia, clutching a small, worn, circular object—a coin.

“Take this to the witch who lives deep in the Shumerck Forest,” she said faintly.

“Wait! Who are you? What’s going on—”

“There’s no time… Please, take this to Glinde.”

Without answering Olivia’s questions, the woman pleaded desperately, her face contorted in pain.

Stunned by the suddenness of it all, Olivia stood frozen, unable to process the situation.

As the woman’s faint glow intensified, Olivia stepped back in shock.

“Please… I beg you…”

In the next instant, radiant wings of light burst from the woman’s back, engulfing the area in a blinding glow.

When the light faded and Olivia lowered the hand shielding her eyes, she was met with yet another shock—the woman was gone.

Nowhere to be seen.

All that remained was the familiar scenery of her surroundings, drenched in the relentless downpour.

(What… just happened?)

She couldn’t make sense of anything. Was she still dreaming? Had she not yet awakened from her nightmare?

At her feet lay the coin the woman had been holding.

With trembling hands, Olivia reached out and picked up the coin. It was cold and hard against her fingertips.