As she struggled to make sense of everything, McClart’s clear voice cut through her thoughts.

“But she gave birth to a new Great Witch.”

For a moment, it felt as if the entire world had fallen silent.

“Another Great Witch besides you.”

Everything in Tempe seemed to hold its breath—the dying earth, the whispering sky, even the biting wind.

“She’s probably with her. Purifying the Great Witch’s bloodline is probably your own desire as well, isn’t it?”

Amid the stillness, the confusion in Vienny’s mind suddenly cleared. Her chaotic, aimless emotions settled into calm. Her red eyes, which had been unfocused and downcast, slowly lifted to meet the gaze of the man standing before her.

Chiron’s Blue Flame – the man who would kill the demon worshippers and turn them to ash. A servant of the gods who could even change the fate of the Great Witch herself.

“If I find her, will you purify her?”

Her voice was cold, as if drawn from the depths of a deep, dark well. The empty look in her red eyes held only that chill, making her appear like a frozen lake, despite their fiery hue.

Her icy, pale gaze reflected the man’s sharp disgust and inexplicable satisfaction.

“If you find her.”

Vienny chose to trust his words. In truth, she had never had a choice. She simply chose to believe and answered obediently.

“…I will find her.”

* * *

She had expected McClart to demand that she use her magic right away, but instead, he had her sit in the corner. It was the very spot she’d noticed upon entering his tent—a thick leather mat, just big enough for her to lie on.

While Vienny and McClart had been talking, it seemed preparations for a meal had been completed outside, as the scent of food drifted into the tent.

McClart left to eat, and shortly after, a separate meal was brought in for her.

Recently, McClart had been unusually attentive to her meals. She hadn’t expected proper food, especially out here, so she was quite surprised, but she quietly ate what was given to her.

Eating more than usual made her stomach feel slightly heavy, yet she didn’t dare leave any food behind. She wasn’t sure what McClart might say if she did. He must have been quite displeased with her frail appearance, she thought, as she forced herself to finish every bite.

Even after she finished her meal, McClart didn’t return. The place was a tent, but the routine was no different from when she’d been confined to a private room.

Once she felt her food had settled, Vienny lay down. The air inside the tent was warm, but as she rested, the chill from the ground seeped through. It had been a long time since she’d smelled the earth and grass.

She closed her eyes, but sleep didn’t come easily. McClart’s words from earlier drifted through her mind, scattered and fragmented.

The Great Witch’s mother, the new Great Witch, purification.

Could her mother really have given birth to a new Great Witch? The other witches had claimed her mother could no longer bear children. But, given everything, it now seemed entirely possible that they’d lied without hesitation.

Maybe it had all been a plan to get her to focus solely on her connection. She wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.

But the thought of a new Great Witch…

Vienny thought back to the last time she’d seen her mother. With the six months since her defection, it had been well over a year. On that last day, she hadn’t been able to spend much time with her mother because of the pressure from the other witches.

Maybe her mother was already pregnant. Perhaps the witches who watched over her mother had worked tirelessly to keep her from finding out.

“The new Great Witch.”

Her mother had always called her that – the new Great Witch. Although her mother had suffered numerous miscarriages before Vienny’s birth, she had never celebrated her arrival. The Great Witch’s bloodline was not an easy one to carry on.

The birth of a new Great Witch was a sign that the power of the previous one was fading. Her mother must have sensed it the first time she looked at Vienny – that the power of her own blood had reached its limit.

From what she’d heard from the other witches, her mother had been an exceptional Great Witch. She responded to the connection swiftly and accurately, ensuring the comfort of their kind. She didn’t merely accept her fate; she embraced it as her destiny, even taking pride in it.

For someone like that, it was only natural to fear the loss of her power. And as time went on, her mother had descended into madness.

After Vienny was born, her mother’s mind began to deteriorate rapidly. She became fixated on fulfilling her final duty. Vienny’s early childhood, spent under her mother’s care, was a blur of frenzied chaos.

The smell of blood was everywhere; strange men, brought from who knows where, came and went; there were stillbirths, and always the smell of blood lingered.

As Vienny grew old enough to assume the responsibilities of the Great Witch, the other witches stopped allowing her mother to approach the altar. In turn, her mother became increasingly violent.

Was it now Vienny’s turn to follow in her mother’s footsteps? If a new Great Witch had been born, it meant that Vienny, as the current Great Witch, was essentially under a death sentence.

She had no desire to cling to life, but she had hoped to see Tempe reduced to ashes before she died. With the High Priest’s interest in the Great Witch’s bloodline, there was no chance he would let her live once her power faded, and Chiron would discard her as well.

Chiron’s indifferent treatment was of no concern to her. What troubled Vienny was the existence of her half-sibling—a child she had never seen, likely still an infant. Even if Vienny died, the Great Witch’s bloodline would continue as long as her half-sibling lived.

Vienny bit down hard on her lip, squeezing her eyes shut. If she died and her half-sibling survived, that child would inherit the fate of the Great Witch without understanding any of it.

So, in the end, Vienny needed to kill her mother and her half-sibling before killing her own life.

“Vienny!”

“Why have they come?”

The screams she had managed to push out of her mind echoed in her ears once more. Vienny bit down harder on her already torn lips. Such mild pain was not enough to dispel the thoughts that crowded her mind. It wasn’t as if she suddenly felt remorse or torment over her guilt.

She had done enough to fulfill her role while alive and had resolved that this futile continuation needed to end.

She had betrayed the witches she’d once lived alongside, deceived them, and turned villages into infernos. Feeling shallow guilt now would only dishonor those who had died.

Vienny felt no regret for her actions. The only problem was that the voices echoing in her ears were unbearably loud.

She could feel the land of Tempe, where she had set foot after so long, resenting her. The air around her felt as though it were tightening its grip, making her back grow cold and rigid with tension—a deeply unsettling sensation.

Curling her body as much as she could, she hoped that by reducing the contact with the ground, she might feel less of the earth’s deep, resonating wail.

* * *

The road to Aine Valley was rough.

The path was so narrow and treacherous that taking the transport carriage any further seemed nearly impossible. Pepin, who wasn’t riding in the carriage, grew increasingly concerned and voiced his worries to the Inquisitor multiple times.

Each time, McClart dismissed Pepin’s concerns with scorn. From what Vienny overheard, it seemed that McClart, who had already traveled this path several times for witch hunts, considered it well-maintained compared to other routes.

Frustrated, Pepin turned his attention to Vienny instead. Whenever the carriage stopped, he would approach the bars and describe the steepness of the nearby slopes in detail.

It seemed Pepin hoped to draw some comfort from seeing Vienny frightened, but she felt no particular emotion.

What concerned her more was the constant aching of her body from being jostled around. By the time they reached Aine Valley, she thought she might be covered in bruises.

“Great Witch! Come out!”

The carriage door, which typically only opened upon reaching a campsite, suddenly swung open.

Vienny, who was sitting and rubbing her knee from an earlier bump, looked up in confusion. It seemed they had stopped halfway. She could see Pepin lingering near the carriage.

“The Inquisitor is calling for you.”

They seemed to be about to enter the valley. The sky felt unusually close, and the soldiers had stopped at a spot overlooking the dense undergrowth below.

McClart stood a short distance from the group, staring silently at something. There were only trees and bushes in the direction of his gaze, making it impossible to see what had attracted his attention. Even when Vienny slowly approached, hindered by her restraints, he didn’t turn around.

“Inquisitor, I’ve brought her.”

The soldier who had brought her released her arm with a look of disdain, as if he were discarding something dirty. His shove was so strong that Vienny stumbled and struggled awkwardly to regain her balance.

Only when her shackles clinked did McClart finally turn his head. He glanced briefly at the soldier, gesturing for him to step back, then turned his gaze back to Vienny.