In the meantime, McClart seemed ready to leave the tent again. Vienny quickly raised her head and spoke.

“The shackles…!”

“Do you really want to wear shackles when your ankle hasn’t even fully healed yet?”

At his irritated response, Vienny hesitated, lowering her gaze. It was true she wasn’t fully healed, but she was well enough to endure the pain and run if necessary.

Did McClart believe she wouldn’t try to escape? Or was he simply confident she couldn’t? Or perhaps… was this another small gesture meant to keep her as someone to warm his bed?

Vienny pressed her lips together, saying nothing. She suddenly noticed how quiet the tent had become and looked up.

“You’re unpredictable.”

McClart muttered to himself, turning toward her. She noticed his gaze fixed on her lips.

Ah, her lips must have been bleeding again. Vienny had a feeling she knew what McClart was going to do next.

He seemed convinced that he was under the spell of her blood, determined to prove it by focusing on it. It was as if he needed to justify all his actions by attributing them to the supposed influence of her blood – unable to ignore the sight of it.

“No, understanding a witch is impossible to begin with.”

“No, understanding a witch is impossible to begin with.”

McClart murmured quietly, slowly lowering his head. His large hand cupped her cheek and the side of her head.

His warm tongue, now familiar to her, reached out to lick the blood from her lips. Tasting the traces of blood on the surface, his tongue soon parted her lips and slipped inside.

As the kiss deepened, her heartbeat quickened. As the pressure of his grip increased, Vienny clung to McClart’s shirt to keep from falling.

As she did so, her hand brushed against the firm chest beneath his clothes, feeling his heart beat heavily under her touch. It was the same heart that had raced the night before and the night before that. The sensation made her own blood race.

McClart, his tongue still exploring her sensitive lips, finally bit down on her lower lip, drawing the last trace of blood into his mouth. She panted softly through her slightly parted lips, and his low voice reached her ears.

“Stop letting the scent of blood linger.”

This time, he left the tent without looking back. Vienny, left alone, bit her lips again.

No matter how hard she tried, the unease wouldn’t go away – it gnawed at her from within. She clenched her fists tightly, but her hands continued to tremble. The pounding of his heartbeat seemed to have left an imprint on her fingertips, a sensation she couldn’t shake.

***

The scent of blood added to her excitement. Her body felt lighter than ever and her senses were heightened.

Her razor-sharp fangs had already sunk into and killed several prey. A liquid – saliva or blood – dripped from her open mouth.

Panting, tongue out, she scanned her surroundings, searching for her next target. As she pushed off the ground, dirt and grass flew from her claws.

The damp earth gave way easily to her slightest effort. The smell of blood was thick all around and loud noises echoed in the air.

In the midst of it all, she quickly spotted her target. Her prey was not far away.

Just as she had been trained, she focused on the sweetest scent of blood in the air, cutting through the overwhelming smell around her.

Her prey was already cornered, trembling in fear. She leaped to sink her teeth into its neck, but the pull of her leash held her back, causing her to miss.

Frustrated, she bared her teeth and growled, channeling her desire. The scent of fear and desperation came from her prey.

As she bared her teeth and locked her gaze on it, her master stepped forward – a leader stronger than any other creature, commanding her obedience without question.

At their leader’s call, other humans rushed towards the prey. Looking closer, she saw that the prey was clutching a baby.

“…!”

The prey cried out in despair as the leader watched in silence. Then he gestured to the humans surrounding them.

The humans took the baby from the prey’s arms. As the one holding the baby stepped back, another plunged a sword into her belly. The sweet scent grew thicker, spreading through the air.

Disappointed that she hadn’t been able to sink her fangs into the prey’s neck, she turned her attention to the baby. Unlike the prey, it didn’t carry that sweet smell.

She felt a pang of disappointment. She could end her life with a single bite, but it wasn’t the prey he craved.

But since it was also prey, she believed her leader would eventually toss it to her. She waited, trusting, but instead he glanced at the dying prey and turned away.

The human holding the baby followed, and she felt a surge of confusion.

She barked sharply, trying to signal to her leader that the hunt wasn’t over, but the collar only tightened around her neck. The relentless pull cut off her breath.

Desperate, she turned back to her prey, now bleeding profusely and close to death, and thrashed once more. Someone aimed a sharp kick at her side to stop her.

The searing pain shook her and her consciousness quickly sank into a deep abyss.

When she opened her eyes, she was instantly sickened. Gasping for breath with her mouth wide open, Vienny noticed the familiar smell of blood permeating the air around her.

A sharp pain shot up her calf. As she propped herself up on the floor, her arms shaking, she saw that the bedclothes were completely stained red. She didn’t have to look to know where the blood had come from.

The creature she’d connected with was the dog that had once licked her blood. It was probably on the Teike Plains right now, part of the witch hunt.

Through the dog’s eyes, she had recognised the prey as her mother. And the baby her mother was holding must have been Vienny’s half-sibling.

But her half-sibling didn’t carry the Great Witch’s blood. The beast’s instincts had only responded to her mother.

Had McClart misunderstood? He’d been so sure that a new Great Witch bloodline had been born. And he had promised to purify them all…

Vienny’s eyes widened as she realised this. She clamped her hand over her mouth and hurried away from the bed. Her hands trembled, and soon the shaking spread to her whole body.

“No…”

Blood still trickled down her calf, but she had no intention of wiping it away. The scene she had just witnessed would not leave her mind.

Vienny’s face contorted in fear.

McClart hadn’t killed the child.

If he hadn’t taken blood on the spot to test it, he couldn’t have known that the child didn’t carry the Great Witch’s bloodline. He didn’t have that ability.

So he still believed the child to be the next Great Witch – and yet he hadn’t killed it, but captured it alive. Realising this, despair washed over Vienny’s face.

He remembered the pale face of the High Priest, smiling as he preached obedience to the Divine. The High Priest craved the power of the Great Witch, and McClart was his most treasured Inquisitor.

In the end, the Great Witch’s bloodline would be offered to the High Priest. The hunt had probably been for that purpose all along.

And the moment they discovered that the child wasn’t the Great Witch, the one to be dragged before the High Priest…

As Vienny stood there, dazed, her eyes fell on the blood-stained bedclothes. The sight of the red blood brought her back to reality.

Quickly searching her surroundings, she found the cloak Macklatt had thrown at her. Wrapping it tightly around her body and pulling the hood down low over her face, she took a deep breath as she stood by the entrance.

With trembling hands, she opened the tent flap. Stepping through the outer entrance, she saw two soldiers standing guard outside.

A faint mist hung in the air, giving the camp an eerie atmosphere.

“Um… excuse me…”

“What is it?”

Under the soldier’s suspicious gaze, Vienny shrank back and bowed her head.

“I… I accidentally burned my leg on the brazier and it’s bleeding quite badly…”

“Hah, unbelievable,” one muttered.

“It’s a mess, so… I thought I should clean it up before the Inquisitor gets back.”

The soldiers cursed, but didn’t rough her up, suggesting that McClart might have given them some instructions regarding her.

Vienny lifted her eyes briefly to read their expressions, then quickly lowered them. As the scent of blood wafted from the tent entrance, her story of injury seemed a little more convincing.

The soldiers had no way of knowing that Vienny bled and connected with the creatures whenever she was bitten, so it was natural for them to believe her excuse as she presented it.

Eventually, one of the soldiers reluctantly led her to the river some distance from the camp. As she limped all the way, his guard relaxed slightly, probably assuming she couldn’t run away with guards stationed everywhere.

Vienny hesitated as she approached the water.

When she lifted her cloak, her blood-soaked leg was fully exposed, finally convincing the soldier of her story.

“I feel a bit nauseous from the smell of blood… Could I stay here for a moment? I’d rather not… get sick back in the tent…”

As she awkwardly made her excuse, the soldier frowned, clearly annoyed.

“Do you think we have that much time to waste?”

“I couldn’t run even if I wanted to with my injured ankle. The Inquisitor himself didn’t even see the need to bind me.”

Her ankle injury was well known among the soldiers, especially since McClart had brought her here. It was remarkable that the Inquisitor had bothered to lift her onto his horse.

The soldier, remembering what he had seen over the past few days, understood easily enough. From his perspective, Vienny’s leg was a bloody mess and her ankle seemed to be in bad shape.

“If you try anything foolish, I’ll shoot you on the spot. Be careful!”

After the warning, the soldier clicked his tongue and turned away. When he was far enough away, Vienny fell to the water’s edge.

Her heart felt like it wanted to jump out of her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit down hard on her trembling lips.