“Jongdae!” a woman gasped, upon spotting the boy at the entrance, “what happened? Where were you? And… who are you carrying on your back?!”

“They wanted to kill him. Probably as a sacrifice,” he groaned, throwing the stranger on the bed.

“What they?! Sacrifice? Why?” the woman ran towards the boy to check up on him. “He’s feverish.”

“The king… Siwon. He tries to tell everyone he’s a witch and needs to be killed,” he explained, bringing the woman a class of water for the stranger. “I confronted him, you know, Siwon. I think I managed to scare him, too,” Jongdae smirked, “but when I was looking at him” he looked at the boy in the bed, “I saw mum, you know… before they burnt her. And they would have done the same to him, had I not done anything.”

“You did the right thing, Jongdae,” the woman spoke softly, putting a hand on his shoulder, “they will pay for what they’ve done. The ancestors are angry, just as you are. These cowards’ days are numbered. Now, go rest. There are busy days ahead of us.”

“Alright, Fanny,” he nodded, “good night.”

 

“Grab her!” a voice yelled, and some other screamed. A woman grabbed Jongdae in her arms, picked him up, and started running. There was fire everywhere, and blood that stained walls.

“Got you, you witch!” a man jumped in front of them, and Jongdae fell to the floor.

“Run, baby, run away!” the woman screamed at him, struggling to get free from the man’s grip.

“But mommy!” the boy mumbled, but before he got to finish, more people neared them. They were holding torches, knives and chains.

“I said run!” his mother yelled once more, and Jongdae did as he was told.

“Grab the kid! Stab him, bleed him to death, don’t let him leave!”

Jongdae ran as fast as his short legs allowed him. He could feel someone else’s steps behind him, getting closer. He stumbled upon his own feet and fell to the ground. There was a metallic taste of blood in his mouth, and his small hands were scratched.

“Got you!” a voice came from behind him, and a pair of hands wrapped around his ankles.

“Let go! Let go!” Jongdae yelled, struggling, just as his mother, to get free from his oppressor’s hold. But to no avail.

“I will make you watch your mother burn, your sister’s blood stream down the main street, and your father being executed. And by the end of it, when I prove to everyone that you’ve got your mother’s genes and you’re a witch, I will kill the last of the Kims, and the throne and the crown will forever be mine,” Siwon whispered to Jongdae’s ear, keeping a sword at his throat.

 

The night was cold, but it was also bright like a day, with fire burning around and in the middle of the main plaza. There, just in front of his home, stood a massive pile of wood, with a stake on top, to which his mother was being just tided up to.

“Tonight!” a loud voice rang, “the witch dies, and we continue to live in abundance!”

And the next thing Jongdae saw were flames consuming his mother, and her screams filled his bones. There was nothing heroic about the queen’s death, because she was no longer the queen. She became a witch, and for that, she burnt on a stake.

“Now it’s time for your sister. With a sacrifice like her, we will never live poorly. Ever.”

“No, please—“ the boy cried out, but the sword had only been pressed further into his throat.

 

Jongdae opened his eyes, breathing heavily. His heart was banging against his chest, and his skin was covered in sweat.

“Are you alright?” he heard a weak whisper, which startled him. It was only after a few moments that he remembered there was one more person in the room. A little above him, on the bed, rested a form of an unknown man he had brought home hours before. “You were screaming,” he man spoke again, and his voice, although weak, was very calm.

“I’m fine,” Jongdae answered shortly. “How are you?”

“Where am I?” the boy asked, instead, and his voice was harsh.

“You’re safe. No one will do any harm to you, here. Do you need water?”

The other nodded slightly, almost visibly, and hummed in response. Jongdae stood up and upon crossing the cold, stone ground to grab a glass. Everything was silent, only steps echoing against the walls.

“Thank you.”

“Who are you?” Jongdae asked, sitting back at the floor, allowing the stranger some space.

“My name is Kim Minseok,” the black haired man introduced himself.

“I am –“

“Kim Jongdae,” the man, Minseok, interrupted, “I know. I heard you introduce yourself to those people in town.”

Jongdae nodded, leaving it as it was.

“Why did they brought you to the village?”

Minseok chuckled, and then groaned in pain, “called me a witch. Said I brought winter on them.”

“Did you?”

“I have better things to do, than bringing destruction upon villages,” the buy smirked, “I guess you can just say I was in a wrong place at a wrong time.”

Jongdae hummed, nodding in understanding.

“Why did you save me?” he asked, “they would’ve burnt me at stake or sacrifice me to their pagan gods.”

“I have my reasons.”

Minseok’s eyes suddenly started falling shut, and his breath calmed. Jongdae observed as the other struggled to stay awake, but in the end, his fever won.

 

“Jongdae,” Fanny called his name, sitting next to him on the porch and giving him a plate with breakfast, “eat.”

The boy nodded, and upon taking the food, he went back to staring into the forest.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I’m imagining these trees burning,” he whispered, “I can hear Siwon’s screams and yells and his begging. I can see his face full of fear.”

“Jongdae—“

“There is nothing I know except for the feeling of range and anger, Fanny,” he looked at the woman, “I need this to be done as soon as possible... I want them to pay—“

“Is that why you saved me?” a voice came, and they both gasped. When they turned, there was Minseok leaning against the doorframe, still pale and weak, but no longer feverish.

“I told you,” Jongdae spoke, standing up, “I had my reasons.”

“They would have done to me what they did to your mother. Is this your reason? One of them?” the other asked, and they just stared at each other.

“How do you know about that?” Fanny asked, standing between the boys.

“He was talking in his sleep,” Minseok pointed, never taking his eyes off Jongdae.

“Let’s go eat inside. You need strength,” the boy said in the end, and passing Fanny and Minseok, he walked into the shadows of the house.

 

Days were passing.

Minseok was regaing his strength, and the village was slowly dying. After the frost came snow, and after that storms and rain. The panic was growing, and the unrest could be felt in the air. People were afraid.

“Fear,” Jongdae whispered one day, inhaling the fresh air of an early morning, “can you smell it?”

“I believe what I smell is the forest, but I guess these two are very similar,” Minseok commented, and Jongdae laughed. “Full moon is approaching. Are you really going to do it? Slaughter them all?”

Jongdae only smiled, nodding, “yes,” he answered, as if there was nothing troubling in murdering a whole village.

“Why, though?”

Jongdae started humming a tune Minseok had already heard before. It was rather slow, sounded almost like a lullaby, but whenever he asked the other about the lyrics, he always disregarded the question.

“Is that supposed to be an answer?” he asked, again.

“Indeed, my friend,” Jongdae smiled, “this should tell you everything.”

“What is it about all the secrets?”

The morning was calm, the sun was rising above the horizon, casting rays on Jongdae’s face, and the boy looked ethereal.

“A secret for a secret,” he whispered, never looking at his companion, only slowly moving his head to the rhythm of his song.

Minseok smirked, “fair enough. Ask away.”

Jongdae stoped moving, and turned his face to look directly at the elder. His skin seemed almost porcelain, and as the rays of sun reflected in his complexion, Jongdae thought it would break if only he was to touch it, even lightly, with a feather. Falling deep in the black hole that was Minseok’s gaze, Jongdae brought his hand up, to caress the other’s cheek.

“Ask me, Jongdae,” came out a whisper, and an electric shot ran through the younger’s fingers.

“Who are you?” he questioned, tilting his head to a side, studying the porcelain face carefully. It felt as if the time stopped, Jongdae didn’t think he even was even breathing anymore. His fingers were frozen on the man’s face, and he was searching his eyes for answers. But there was nothing in them, except for darkness, “don’t I deserve to know?”

“Knowledge…” Minseok mumbled, smiling fondly at the younger, and upon grabbing the other’s hand that was resting on his cheek with his own, he started drawing slow circles on the inside of Jongdae’s palm, “dangerous thing,” he chuckled, “but even more dangerous is knowledge driven by emotions,” he spoke, and looked Jongdae in the eyes again, “no good ever comes from that.”

Minseok smiled, and with his free hand pushed a few loose bangs away from the younger’s eyes.

“You’re not answering my question…”

“I am. The answer is—it does not matter.”

“It matters to me,” Jongdae pressed, narrowing his eyes.

“Tell me, Jongdae,” Minseok spoke softly, his hand still holding the other’s, “does it feel good?” he asked, and placed his lips against the younger’s.

There was a sudden shot of cold that filled Jongdae, as if air had been out of his lungs, and all the cells in his body were on fire. He felt lightheaded, and could hear his pulse ringing in his ears, his heart beat slowing down. The darkness underneath his eyelids started filling with stars, and as the elder started embracing him, Jongdae felt as if he was being crushed by ice. It felt, as if Minseok was his soul out of his core.

It all stopped suddenly, the warmth from the early morning sun came back to spread over his neck, the wind was still disturbing leaves, and his heart was beating again. However, the cold never left.

“What have you done to me?” he asked, feeling fear.

Minseok chuckled, getting back to drawing small circles on Jongdae’s hand, “I gave you the answer you were demanding. So tell me, my little witch, what is that song you keep on humming?” he whispered, and Jongdae’s eyes grew.

“How did you…”

“How did I know you were a witch? You don’t give me enough credit, I know much more than I let on,” he smirked, and placed another kiss on Jongdae’s lips, but this time, it felt just right. “Let’s play a game,” he mumbled.

“What game?”

“That riddle I just gave you,” Minseok smiled, and leaned closer, to whisper into Jongdae’s ear “if you can riddle me this and tell me who I am, I will give you the sun and the moon and all of the stars.”

The boy swallowed hard, “and if I don't?”

“If you don’t, then your soul will forever be mine.”

There was something about the way he said it, be it the dark undertone in his voice, the uplift in the corners of his lips, or the sparkles in his black eyes, that sent shivers down Jongdae’s spine.

“How much time do I have?”

“Three moons. Until the bloody moon rises. Once you spill the blood of the villagers, I will come to you, to ask for answer. Now tell me, my little witch, what are the lyrics to your song?” he stressed, resting his back against a tree they were sitting under.

 

“Tingling thoughts of murder,
dangling through the branches of trees
As if dread from an uncertain past;
further floats among the living effigies.

A whisper from long ago still echoes,
where people dare not put foot.
A place, where time slows
A place where men once stood.”*

 

“Tingling thoughts of murder,” Minseok murmured, running a hand through Jongdae’s hair, “it suits you, little witch.”

---

* poem by Liam Adam Scicluna – Witch Hunt