“We’re approaching the Aine Valley. Can you see if your mother is there?”

“If you give me some time…”

“How long?”

Vienny lowered her gaze, feeling awkward.

“It will take a while. Maybe around three days…”

“Impossible.”

Of course, it would be. Vienny bit her lip, thinking it over before cautiously offering an alternative.

“I could finish in half a day… if you leave me alone.”

McClart’s gaze instantly hardened.

“Why would I trust you?”

“If not, then you’ll need to give me a bit more time.”

A silence fell between them. Vienny fidgeted with her hands, waiting for McClart’s response. In truth, even three days had been an optimistic estimate, pushing her to her limits.

She hadn’t anticipated having to use her power like this and wasn’t even sure it would work. After a long pause, McClart finally spoke in a cold tone.

“If I give you half a day, can you be certain you’ll find out?”

“…Yes.”

In truth, Vienny didn’t trust McClart—more precisely, she didn’t trust that he would genuinely allow her time alone. That was why she’d tried to prepare in advance while in the carriage. However, with the constant jostling, she hadn’t been able to concentrate, making no progress.

If she could focus for about three days at the campsite, it should be enough.

As she silently planned her next steps, McClart’s voice broke through her thoughts.

“Very well.”

With that, for the first time in six months, she found herself alone without a guard.

* * *

“Inquisitor, I believe the time is up.”

It was the tenth time he had said those words. McClart shot a glare at Pepin, making no effort to conceal his irritation.

Pepin was visibly anxious, fearing Vienny might try to escape. Whether his concern was driven by religious zeal or personal motives was unclear.

“Inquisitor.”

Vienny’s location was at the edge of a cliff, with soldiers guarding the path leading up. If she wanted to escape, her only option would be to jump off the edge—a choice that seemed unlikely, given her apparent intent to aid in the purification of the witches.

McClart glanced briefly at the sky. The sun, once high above, was now setting beyond the mountains, the blue sky gradually turning red. This time, as Pepin had pointed out, the deadline had indeed arrived.

“It’s time to check on her.”

“I’ll bring her back.”

Pepin said eagerly, but McClart ignored him and stood up.

“Doctor, stay here.”

Pepin tried to obey the forceful command, but hesitated, stopping reluctantly under McClart’s fierce gaze. McClart looked at him as if he found him pitiful, then strode forward.

The soldiers stationed along the cliff path straightened and saluted as McClart passed, clearly tense at his approach. Ignoring them, he continued on. The path gradually narrowed, and traces of others grew scarce.

He didn’t believe Vienny had run away—or even that she could have. Still, the closer he came to the spot, the more a strange tension crept over him. His steps grew heavier, and instinctively, he suppressed his presence. Moving silently with practiced skill, McClart reached the point nearest to the sky.

At the end of the uphill trail, an open view stretched before him. There, on a rocky ledge jutting into the void, stood a lone figure—still as a doll.

McClart halted upon seeing her. Vienny stood with her back to him, staring out at the distant sky, her surroundings dark and shadowed.

With a cautious gaze, McClart soon realized the shadows surrounding her were birds—winged creatures that had landed and folded their wings, perched all around her.

A black feather, carried by the wind, rolled across the ground and Vienny’s long black hair swayed gently in the breeze. Watching the scene in silence, McClart moved a little closer, keeping his presence hidden. Between the strands of her fluttering hair, he caught a glimpse of her face

She stood there quietly, eyes closed. Occasionally, her body swayed slightly, leaning into the wind. Vienny stood at the cliff’s edge, surrounded by the black birds resting peacefully around her, eyes shut as if in deep focus. The sky, bathed in the vivid colors of twilight, cast an otherworldly glow over the strange, almost haunting sight.

The strangest thing of all was the serene expression on Vienny’s face. Her skin was so pale, drained of all color, that she almost appeared lifeless at first glance. Or… had she truly stopped breathing? The thought crossed McClart’s mind, urging him to step forward.

At that moment, the birds around her suddenly flew, wings flapping as a flock of black crows filled the sky.

Feathers scattered amid the dark, rhythmic beats of dozens of wings. Vienny’s eyelids fluttered, and slowly, her red eyes opened.

She looked up at the crows flying against the twilight sky, her sunset eyes warming as she watched them. A crow circled above her, then slowly spiralled down.

Vienny held out her hand and the crow swooped down and landed gently on her fingertips. The crow tilted its head a few times, then flapped its wings as if to take off again. Vienny lifted the bird with a gentle force and let it soar back into the sky.

The crows circling in the sky shifted direction. Scattering in all directions, they quickly became tiny black dots, leaving dark specks against the twilight sky.

Vienny watched in silence as the crows disappeared. Standing among the drifting black feathers, silhouetted in the fading light, she seemed smaller and more fragile than before.

Slowly, she turned around.

As McClart saw himself reflected in her eyes, painted with the colours of the sky, a shiver ran down his spine.

“Inquisitor.”

He was certain he must have lost his mind.

“I found her.”

The thought that those red eyes—the eyes of the Great Witch—could feel sacred.

“My mother is…”

A holiness so overwhelming that it aroused the urge to defile.

“…in the Teike Plains.”

What a vile, blasphemous betrayal.

* * *

McClart must have already known.

That was Vienny’s thought the moment she discovered her mother’s location. She remembered the witch’s body hanging from the walls. If McClart had learned of the existence and whereabouts of another Great Witch, it would have been through the treachery of a witch.

The dead witch had coveted Vienny’s position, so she would have tried to prove her worth to McClart in any way she could. News of a new Great Witch would have been the perfect leverage to make herself seem more valuable than Vienny.

The witches hadn’t changed. To them, the role of the Great Witch was still, in the end, one of willing sacrifice for their kin.

So Vienny could watch Aine Valley burn without a flicker of emotion. She stepped back, staring quietly at the valley, where blue flames danced in the darkness.

Screams and shouts echoed from deep within the valley. The bushes, thrashing like waves, were visible even from a distance. Heads of witches fleeing through the undergrowth and soldiers chasing after them bobbed up and down.

Vienny stood in the valley, far from the base. Normally, the base would have been well hidden by the trees and bushes, but the blue flames erupting from various points now exposed the once hidden areas. Her sense of smell had long since been numbed by the acrid smell of burning.

Vienny bit her lip as she looked toward the brush where a desperate scream had just echoed. The swaying undergrowth soon fell silent.

“How do you feel?”

It was Pepin who had insisted on bringing Vienny out rather than leaving her locked in the transport carriage. He’d claimed to have found a spot with a good view and had dragged her up to a hill where she could watch the entire witch hunt unfold below. Every so often, he would ask for her thoughts.

“Those flames might as well be yours, aren’t they? Isn’t it moving?”

Was he expecting her to feel joy at the sight or despair? Vienny couldn’t decipher Pepin’s intentions, so she simply stared at him in silence.

“Oh dear, you know how the Inquisitor has been so concerned about your injuries lately, right?”

Pepin’s smug grin twisted into a frown as he clicked his tongue. In a few strides, he came up close to Vienny, pulling out a handkerchief and pressing it firmly against her closed lips.

It seemed she’d bitten her lip again, out of habit, and it was bleeding. The soft cloth pressed roughly against her wound, and a stinging pain spread from her lips until it dulled into an ache.

Vienny frowned, pressing her lips together even tighter. The more she resisted, the harder the pressure became. Just as she feared he might tear the wound open further with his fingers, Pepin pulled the handkerchief away.

“If I had known it would be so difficult to see your wounds, I would have enjoyed my time in the underground prison a little more.”

A bright red stain marred the centre of the white handkerchief. Pepin, staring down at it as if with some regret, smiled, his eyes softly curved. The desire he’d suppressed all this time was now clear in his eyes.

“You’re having trouble getting used to being treated well all of a sudden, aren’t you? That’s why you keep biting your lips. You only feel good when it hurts, don’t you?”

Vienny didn’t respond but took a half step back from him.

“You can be honest with me.”

Pepin laughed, stepping forward to close the distance again.

Fighting back her growing unease, Vienny glanced down the valley. The hunt was still on, which meant that McClart – the only one who could stop Pepin – was still down there.

She took another step back, creating more space between herself and Pepin. He twisted his lips, clearly annoyed by her obvious attempt to avoid him.

“Oh, Great Witch.”

Pepin sighed exaggeratedly, then walked over and grabbed Vienny’s wrist, twisting it in an instant. She was dragged towards him, unable to resist. His eyes, full of a mocking smile, remained fixed on her face.