The witch appeared again just as Ventren glanced up from where he sat on the ground.
"Good job—"
In an instant, Ventren surged forward. One hand closed around her throat while the other seized both her wrists, pinning them together and preventing whatever sigils or gestures she might attempt.
"I demand answers. Now."
"Ag—ah—rghh… w-wait!"
Slowly and deliberately, he loosened his grip on her neck, though his eyes never left her face.
"Tell me," he said coldly. "What exactly am I?"
"A d-dullahan," she rasped. "Y-you will live on forever as you do not age—or until I dispel the curse—or until I d-die. You no longer n-need sleep or physical rest, nor w-will you feel hunger. Your p-physical abilities have increased by three as well…"
"What do you want from me?"
"I n-need you to fetch c-certain items across the kingdom," she replied weakly. "F-for alchemical research."
Ventren's grip tightened again, just enough.
"Turning someone into a dullahan requires high-level magic. What are you playing at? That cannot be the only reason."
"W-well…"
"Tell me the truth, witch."
He tightened his hand around her throat by a fraction.
"Wait—wait, calm down! Listen, listen!" she gasped. "The k-kingdom is in danger. I'm trying to prepare before the c-catastrophe unfolds! These items possess immense magical properties—I'll need them when the time comes!"
"What do you mean, the kingdom is in danger?"
"I saw it in my visions," she said desperately. "A sky drowned in red with rivers of blood. Fields littered with beheaded corpses and barrages of magic tearing the land apart. Something t-terrible will happen when Vaenir becomes king—but I don't know what! You have to believe me!"
She swallowed hard.
"As a g-gesture of good faith, you may keep the items until that day arrives. O-okay?"
Ventren studied her for a long moment. He had heard countless end-of-the-world prophecies before—most were nothing but the ramblings of the unhinged. Still, the thought of possessing powerful magical artifacts was… appealing.
She is probably either delusional or outright wrong. But I don't care if our interests aren't conflicting.
"So," he said aloud, "who are you, witch?"
"I am the Saint-Witch of Vengeance," she replied. "Your deep desire to punish those who betrayed you allowed me to be summoned at your location—saving your life among the ruins."
"I've only heard of Saint-Witches in passing. What exactly are you?"
"The height of magic," she said softly. "Embodiments of aspects. We have existed since the dawn of time. Most positions now lie vacant due to the purges everywhere save for Valkraun… I survived only because of my unique teleportation ability."
"Then why aren't you teleporting away?"
She hesitated.
"…I see," Ventren continued. "For some reason, you can only channel your magic through your hands and finger movements. And since you're restrained, you're trapped."
"W-well… not exactly," she muttered, "but close enough."
Ventren released her completely and stepped back. She placed her hands on her neck, rubbing where it hurt. "Please, never do that again... Jeez."
"So far, your goals do not conflict with mine," he said calmly. "I see no reason why we cannot work together. I do owe you for saving my life."
"I suppose," she said cautiously.
"There was no need to be so cryptic."
Or she is still hiding something, I'll need her trust—and more answers.
"Well," she replied, rubbing her wrists, "how could I trust a mercenary who earns his living by killing for money? I wanted to see how you'd react—to the curse and to the power. Whether you'd lose yourself and become a mindless beast."
Ventren sighed and shrugged."So. What other curses or spells have you placed on me?"
"Well… I can teleport to wherever you are. I can see everything you do and talk to you. That's about it. Clairvoyance."
"You can't teleport freely? Or to my targets?"
"Nope. If I could I'd fetch the items myself."
"So," Ventren said, resting his axe against his shoulder, "tell me about this Scourgestone."
"You possess some degree of magic, correct?" the witch asked.
"Yes but negligible at best."
"I saw you use blood magic in those ruins," she replied calmly. "With the Scourgestone, that negligible limitation no longer applies. You are more warrior than mage, however, so I suggest making use of coating techniques."
"I can use starlight magic as well," Ventren said. "But what exactly is coating?"
Instead of answering immediately she placed her palm over the hilt of her stiletto and whispered an incantation. Green fire bloomed along the blade, clinging to it like a veil.
"This," she said, "is coating. You envelope your weapon with your magical affinity, dearest dullahan of mine."
Ventren tightened his grip on his axe stub and focused. He channelled his starlight magic into the blade. Flashes of blue and gold rippled across the steel, starlight spilling along the edge as it gleamed brilliantly in the air.
"Incredible…" Ventren murmured. "I can use basic spells like this with just the Scourgestone in my satchel?"
"Yes—but be careful," she warned, her tone sharp. "You may only cast a coating once per day. A second use will cause you to collapse after and a third…" She paused. "A third will kill you. Not merely death—your soul will crumble as well. Mana consumes both energy and spirit. It requires time to replenish."
She slid her stiletto back into its sheath.
"You can cast projectiles too, but with your current skill, it's inefficient. Just get a crossbow or something if you need range. Ah, the wonders of technology."
Ventren nodded slowly, committing every word to memory.
"Well~" she sing-songed, tilting her head, "aren't you forgetting something?"
"Hm?"
"Apologise." she gestured towards her neck.
"I am sorry for grabbing you." he said half-mockingly.
"I guess that's good enough. Also... You better win the Great Tournament," she said lightly. "Because the next item is Stavross' necklace. It contains mana-enhancing properties—and significantly increases perception."
Ventren fell silent.
"I see," he said at last. "So that's part of why you turned me into a dullahan. Our targets align too."
She nodded, smiling faintly. "I've been observing the Blind Stars from afar for some time."
"What next?" he scoffed. "You're going to tell me Richard's bow and Irina's staff are special artefacts too?"
"That bow is just a stick," she replied dismissively. "Irina's staff, however, is the greatest artefact in the realm. So… yes. Close enough."
"Un-fucking-believable."
She chuckled softly. "Not language befitting a knight, Sir Ventren."
"Right," he said flatly. "I don't care."
Ventren mounted his steed, the starlight on his axe fading as he settled into the saddle. The witch stepped closer once more.
"Oh—and if you were to join the Royal Guard," she added casually, "retrieving artefacts would become much easier. So please… do win on top of beating ol' Stav's ass."
"I will," Ventren said, turning his horse toward the road. "Stavross is no match for me."
A thin smile crossed his face.
"I wonder how he'll react when he realises he failed to kill me?"