The black beast that had bitten her eventually vanished without a trace, but Vienny cautiously predicted it wouldn’t stay hidden for long. After all, McClart had once ordered all the rats in the dungeon killed at the mere mention of a bite, so he would likely respond similarly this time.

Did McClart or Pepin happen to notice the beast’s eyes? From what she could tell, it seemed unlikely.

Returning to the castle alone, leaving his troops behind, McClart had retreated to his office as if some urgent matter awaited him. Vienny would normally have been taken there, but instead she returned to her room to tend to her injured arm.

Pepin tended to her wound with a grim expression, but left without a glance in her direction. His sour mood probably had something to do with the paper McClart had torn up earlier. Vienny tried to remember the exchange between the two men, piecing it together bit by bit.

It wasn’t McClart but someone else who had granted Pepin permission. Earlier, Pepin had explicitly said, “The High Priest’s orders have been issued.”

Vienny looked down at her arm, noticing faint blood stains seeping through the tightly wrapped bandages. Even the slightest movement sent a sharp pain through her. Now, she was facing yet another night of restless sleep, dreading the inevitable moment when she might be pulled into a dream she couldn’t escape.

The day after connecting with an animal, her mind often became unstable. On the worst days, she’d spend the entire day in a dazed state. She didn’t want anyone to see her in such a fragile condition, especially in a place like this, where she was constantly watched. More than that, she felt she absolutely couldn’t afford for anyone to see her that way.

One thing she was sure of was that her blood had caught the High Priest’s attention.

“Hey, Grand Witch.”

Vienny, who had been sitting in a daze, snapped her head up. Two soldiers stood at the open door, though she hadn’t heard it open. They were stationed to guard her room.

“Get up.”

They wore eye patches and kept as much distance from her as possible, handling her as if she were infected with a plague, maintaining only the bare minimum of contact. Chains were soon fastened to her, and, assuming they were heading to the office as usual, Vienny stepped forward confidently, even in the dim light.

But to her surprise, the journey was far longer than expected. In her memory, the office was on the same floor, just a short walk down the corridor. However, the soldiers led her down a staircase.

With her vision already limited, the soldiers showed no concern for her struggles, repeatedly yanking the chains, causing her to stumble. Each time she tripped, they cursed and roughly ordered her to get up quickly.

After hurriedly steadying herself, they walked for a long while before finally shoving her into a room. The soldiers neither removed her blindfold nor unchained her; they simply closed the heavy door behind her.

Standing still where they had left her, Vienny waited, wondering if anyone else might enter. When no one appeared, she hesitated, then cautiously pulled down her blindfold with both hands.

As she blinked against the soreness in her eyes, the vague, blurred shapes gradually sharpened into focus. Expecting another office, she was startled by the scene before her.

This room was vastly different from where she had been held before—spacious and impeccably clean. A soft carpet lay underfoot, and plush, cushioned chairs were arranged around the room. Candleholders placed throughout cast a warm glow, illuminating every corner.

The air was pleasantly warm; the fireplace in the room must have never been allowed to go out. Vienny, who had been standing frozen by the door, unconsciously took a step forward.

“Your place is over there.”

At the sound of a sudden voice, Vienny flinched, turning sharply. Near the fireplace, which she hadn’t noticed yet, someone was sitting in a leather chair.

One arm rested lazily on the armrest of his chair, the other hand casually holding a document. His long legs were propped up on a stool, and his black boots bore traces of mud and grass that he hadn’t quite shaken off.

His blue eyes met hers over the top of the paper.

“Are you deaf?”

Vienny, who had been standing there dumbly, finally looked over to where McClart had gestured—the most secluded, empty corner of the room. The wall in that spot was noticeably cleaner, as if a piece of furniture had once stood there.

Recognizing the similarity to her usual place in his office, her startled heart began to calm.

As she hesitantly approached the wall, McClart returned his attention to the document in his hand, appearing indifferent enough not to bother securing her chains to any furniture.

Carefully, she gathered the long chain trailing across the floor in front of her, with no intention of attempting anything. She crouched, arranging the chain neatly before her, when McClart muttered to himself.

“I smell blood.”

With no one else in the room, it was clear he was talking to her. Vienny finally noticed the blood staining her bandages, the fabric visibly darkened.

The bandages hadn’t looked like that in her room, which meant that the wound had bled on the way here, probably from the soldiers pulling roughly on her chains as they led her.

“Did Pepin refuse to treat you?”

“No, he treated it properly. This must have… happened on the way here…”

“You must’ve crawled here, then?”

The offhand remark was delivered so dryly that it only deepened her humiliation. Vienny bit her trembling lip and replied in a calm voice.

“The chains are attached to my wrists, so when they were pulled, it strained my arm as well.”

McClart’s gaze shifted briefly to the coiled chains lying on the floor.

“You bleed at the slightest thing. It’s a miracle you’re still alive.”

Ironically, it was a thought Vienny often had herself. She was constantly injured, in pain, and bleeding. There were times she questioned whether she’d survive to see the next day. Yet, as her continued existence proved, she managed to endure it all—because she was the Grand Witch.

Everyone said it was a fate she was born with, a destiny fixed from the start, something she should never dare imagine escaping.

“Describe the appearance of the beast that bit your arm.”

Her thoughts faded, and Vienny, with the chains loosely gathered at her feet, struggled to stand. A creature with black fur, little more than skin and bones. Rather than offer a pointless description, she responded in a steady, detached voice.

“There’s no need to go out of your way to catch it.”

She could feel McClart’s gaze on her, but she kept her eyes fixed on the floor as she continued.

“Once I’ve connected with it, the beast will die.”

“How do you know that?”

“It has always been like this. If it weren’t, I would have gone mad by now… from sharing the senses of so many creatures”.

Through the eyes of the animals, through their senses, Vienny had watched over the lands of Tempe, foreseeing the dangers that would come to this land.

She had foreseen a great flood and a massive earthquake, and helped others avoid deadly landslides. But despite these deeds, Chiron’s followers claimed that even nature despised the wicked witches and avoided them as if they were cursed. They preached that those who defied the natural judgement of the gods were sinister, ominous beings.

In a way, they were right. If natural disasters were indeed the gods’ punishment, the witches had found ways to evade them—until half a year ago.

“What proof do you have of this… connection?”

“Just as you saw before,” she replied. “Whenever I dream, blood flows from the place I was bitten.”

“So the connection happens while you sleep?”

“Yes.”

She had saved those who would have been buried in landslides, those who would have drowned in raging waters. She had extended lives fated to end—so what was there left to fear if she went along with Tempe’s burning?

Vienny remembered the countless eyes that had once looked to her for guidance. On the day Chiron’s paladins had stormed in, they had looked at her with such desperate hope, as if they believed she would reveal another way out.

She had shown them the path the enemy would take, and yet, in the end, not a single witch in the village had escaped McClart’s sword.

“It’s only a matter of timing. Everything would end in a single night.”

“That makes it even harder to understand. You can’t control these beasts continuously, and yet you’ve sacrificed yourself to connect with so many, just to share their senses one time.”

“Is that important?”

“Of course.”

Surprised, Vienny lifted her head, expecting him to dismiss her connection with animals as unimportant. But McClart was merely turning another page in his document, as he had been before.

“Since the High Priest wants to know, I also need to be informed.”

Why would he even care about her connection with animals? He could easily dismiss it as dark magic, label her a demon-worshipper, and that would be the end of it.

Vienny tried to suppress the unsettling feeling that crept up from inside. Her blood should be of no interest to them. After all, Chiron’s holy power was far greater than anything her abilities could produce.

It seemed McClart wanted her to say more about her blood, but Vienny pressed her lips together, refusing to speak.

As silence fell between them, only the rustling of paper filled the room. Having reached the last page, McClart calmly turned the stack back to the beginning.

“You’ll be staying here for the time being.”

The blunt statement was unwelcome, to say the least. Vienny, doubting her own ears, asked again.

“Pardon?”

“You said you can only connect while asleep. To witness it, I’ll need to keep you close.”

“Why… would you even want to witness that…?”

Vienny had muttered unconsciously, but the moment her eyes met McClart’s, she fell silent. Despite the distance between them – he by the fireplace and she in the far corner – the intensity of his gaze was unmistakable.