A child born with black hair and black eyes was indeed the sign of the birth of the Landslayer Witch—that much was true. But it wasn’t just a matter of their hair or eyes being a different color. Lunetta and the others truly were different. They were born with a level of magical energy far stronger than any other—as if it had been carved into the very surface of their souls.
“Ages and ages ago, the First Witch had jet-black hair and eyes and possessed a truly terrifying magical energy.”
Her name had been Sarnette. She had been famed for her beautiful figure and voice, but her name had died with her. She was the First Witch, no longer called by her true name by anyone.
“She was as terrifying a witch as she was formidably powerful. She plotted to take over the kingdom and cast a curse upon the king. They say she was executed for her crimes.”
“Executed...?”
“That’s right,” Lunetta said, nodding. “For a whole year following this, rain fell every single day, plunging the kingdom into chaos with flooding, landslides, and famine. The people feared that it was the witch’s curse at work, but then, when it had all finally subsided, the next witch was born.”
Born to golden-haired and golden-eyed parents, the second witch had been born with hair and eyes of a color that would have otherwise been impossible. Right away, a special room was given to the witch.
“She, too, cursed the kingdom and was executed in turn,” Lunetta explained. “And sure enough, records say the rain didn’t stop for a whole year until the next witch was born.”
As the pattern was repeated again and again, the people began to realize—they realized that they would be cursed when the witch died. And so, they had to keep her alive for as long as they could.
Whether a day longer or a year, they had to keep her alive, out of the way in a place where she could be seen, but no one would see her.
“Whether she died of illness, at the hands of others, or even by her own hand, the results were all the same,” Lunetta explained. “After many generations, the king developed a rigorous sealing spell that slowly dulled the impact of the death curse, making the span until the next witch was born even longer.”
Lunetta paused. “And yet, even then, the witches continued to be born.”
Lunetta wondered sometimes what it felt like—what it must’ve felt like to give birth to the Landslayer Witch.
Just what would a mother think when it became apparent that her child, the child that had been growing inside her—whose name she’d already chosen, whose birth she was counting down the days until—was a demon that would live on in infamy? When the mother saw her child—so unlike herself and born with a color that smothered all hope—what must have gone through her mind?
They said Lunetta’s own mother had let her guard down. It had been several years without the birth of a witch, and Lunetta’s older sister had been a lovely little girl, the spitting image of her mother.
Her mother had thought of her name and hand made a pair of socks for her child. And then, after only seven months in the womb, Lunetta had been born.
The moment “Lunatietta” had perished to become the Landslayer Witch, her mother had apparently decided to end her own life. Still, she’d kept Lunetta alive, and Lunetta remained so to this day.
She’d seen her mother once and only once, but she’d been a beautiful woman—quite the opposite of Lunetta. Well, she’d probably been beautiful. At the time, the only people Lunetta had known had been herself and her wet nurse, so she hadn’t really known the definition of “beautiful.” Still, her mother had shone, so she figured that probably meant she was beautiful.
After all, most of the things that people called pretty—like gemstones or the morning sun—were shining and dazzling. Lunetta just figured that was what it was. If she asked Vyce, she was sure he’d just furrow his brow and say, “Ya can’t just define something like that!” For whatever reason, Lunetta suddenly wished she could see Vyce. How odd.
Lunetta ran her hand over the spines of the battered old books crammed into the bookshelf. They were the memoirs that countless other witches had left behind. The books were the embodiment of the witches who had taught Lunetta magic.
“To ensure that the kingdom could enjoy peace...we had to live here and die in such a way that the curse wouldn’t activate.”
Lunetta paused for a moment. “For years and years, countless witches searched for a way to die quietly. But none of them succeeded. This room has been covered in seal after seal, but all those witches perished here, and each time they did, the kingdom was rocked to its foundation.”
Had this not been a kingdom of only magic wielders, the witches’ deaths likely would have slain the kingdom. Just as the witches had passed their research down from generation to generation, so too had the people of the nation passed down their kingdom.
Lunetta stuck her pointer finger into the bookshelf and pulled out a book.
It was the memoir of one of the first hundred witches.
The witch’s writing was messy and a bit difficult to read—it seemed she’d never been taught how to write properly. Despite that, the witch had conceived of a mountain of fascinating spells. The book’s pages were filled with her scribbles from top to bottom, making it a true challenge to read. Though it was hard to read, Lunetta liked that the witch’s memoirs left her wanting to read more. Lunetta called her “the Scribble Witch.”
“We’re terrifying witches that have nearly slain our land time and time again. That’s why we’re called the Landslayer Witches.”
“That’s not right.”
Lunetta looked up and turned around, only to find Sophie’s face bright red as she furrowed her brow.
“A-Are you not feeling well...?”
“That’s not right...” Sophie replied. “That’s not it, Lunetta!”
“Wh-What?”
What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? No, this has to be because I told her such an off-putting tale. What should I do? Lunetta racked her brain for answers, but all of the seasoned witches who’d taught her everything she knew about magic remained silent on the bookshelf behind her.
Of course they had nothing to say. It wasn’t an order or a punishment—Sophie was the first person to enter the room of her own volition. Even if all the hundreds of Landslayer Witches came together, they’d still be no match for the beautiful princess standing there.
“That’s not it at all, Lunetta!” Sophie said, as something glittery stole down her cheek.
Wait, is that a tear? Yes, that’s a tear. Ugh... I made her cry. I went and made her cry. What do I do? Lunetta was at a loss, completely and utterly confused.
That first night—that night Lunetta had gotten swept up in things and gone off to an evening party in another kingdom, finding herself in an environment she couldn’t comprehend at all. She had been the target of unsavory whispers and stares.
That much was nothing for Lunetta, and since Vyce had laughed at her side and said, “Looks like you’re a real celebrity,” she had thought nothing more about it.
But even in the middle of all that, Sophie, clad in shining jewels and a stunning dress, had made a sweeping bow before her. “It is an honor to meet you,” Sophie had said in a gentle voice, smiling at her. “Is there anything amiss?”
Despite how out of place Lunetta had been, Sophie hadn’t laughed at her—in fact, she had seemed genuinely concerned, going out of her way to speak to her. She had been perfect and kind—the very model of a beautiful princess.
And now, that same Sophie stood before her—crying!
Flustered, Lunetta extended her hand despite still holding on to the book.
“That’s not right!” Sophie said, grabbing Lunetta’s hand.
What’s ‘not right’? What is it? What do I do? Maybe she’s cold? Should I throw a blanket on her? Then again, this little scrap of a blanket has been sitting here ever since I left, so it’s probably moldy and dirty. Lunetta had always cast a purification spell on the blanket, but no one would do something like that at a time like this. So should I cast a spell on her to warm her up then? I’m stumped. I don’t have a clue what to do!
Lunetta could feel a wrinkle splitting her brow. Your Majesty. Lunetta tried calling out for him in her mind, but there was no response. Of course there wasn’t.
“I don’t feel unwell or anything,” Sophie said. “You’ve done nothing wrong. You—no, none of you—have done anything wrong at all...!”
“What?” Lunetta blinked.
“Any of you could’ve run away from this room at any time, right?” Sophie replied. “You could’ve even had your revenge too. But you didn’t, did you? It wasn’t that you didn’t have a way to escape—it was that you chose not to.” Sophie bit her lip as another tear stole down her cheek. “All of you just kept searching for a way to die, a way to keep the next witch from being born, right? Because you had your responsibilities as members of the royal family...”
“Huh?” She’s amazing, Lunetta thought, blinking. Sophie was amazing. And so was Vyce.
Lunetta had never been able to put it into words the right way.
So why? Why was someone she hadn’t even known until just a few days ago, who hailed from a kingdom she knew about, able to understand what Lunetta had been trying to say all this time?
No matter how hard they tried, Lunetta and the others had never been able to get that across—that none of the witches who had lived here were resentful about anything, how they hadn’t cursed anyone at all. They couldn’t get a soul to understand.
And yet...
See, everybody? Isn’t Sophie amazing? Lunetta grew happy, squeezing the book in her hand.
“Even then, we had been the kingdom’s princesses, after all!”