Witches are told to be vicious creatures and you certainly don’t help to prove the rumours wrong.

“You know tying me up leads you nowhere, right? I can still make you cry blood and take your pretty head without my hands,” you sneer at the man tousling you around roughly as if you were merely a ragdoll for his entertainment.

His arrogant behaviour makes your blood boil with anger and turns you into a ticking bomb waiting to go off. Provoking your kind is a dangerous game just like playing with fire and you’re seriously pondering on the methods of death he deserves: suffocation, heart attack, a knife aimed straight at his heart? So bad he can only die once, you would like to watch him bleed out in agony in front of you, begging for forgiveness again and again. A sad pout creeps onto your cold features realizing that the blood would make the job messy and you hate everything that’s not neat.

“Then why don’t you?” the hunter challenges you, a satisfied grin spreading onto his unfairly handsome face as he tugs on the metal chain around your wrist. No matter how hard you press your mouth together, a hiss escapes your throat as your skin is sizzling when the touch of iron burns it.

You turn your head away, the offence tasting bitter in your mouth. Arrogant witch hunters, they act so all-knowing but they know nothing about how magic actually works. But you won’t give this man the advantage to use it against you by enlightening him, so you choose to ignore his remark and raise an eyebrow ever so elegantly at him.

“How do you want me to take you to the Queen without magic though?” you snicker pleased that you found a loophole in his perfect little plan.

As he shoves you against a tree instead of answering, the tree bark against your back scrapes your skin through the flimsy dress you wear and your long, dishevelled hair full of dead leaves falls into your face darkening the world around you.

The witch trap carved deep into the ground you’re standing on keeps you there, at the mercy of the hunter who chased you across the deepest pits of the forest where no sane person dares to step in.  So apparently, this silver-haired man towering over you with a triumphant smirk is just as lunatic as you are.

“Well I have my ways,” his lips twitch in amusement as he takes out a long object with a circular end from his backpack and your eyes unceremoniously widen at the sight.

“No way in hell! You won’t put me on leash,” the protest falls off your lips fiercely and shame is bubbling up in your insides. You are not an animal.

“Did I ask?” the man laughs raucously but his frivolous giggles die abruptly in the air as the rope in his hands transforms into a snake.

“I said no,” you are making your point once again, greatly piqued but this time with more edge in your otherwise light voice and fire in your eyes as dark as the nights of new moon. Your gaze follows the shiny green scaled reptile fondly as it hisses at the hunter and slips out of his hands to disappear in the wildness where it belongs.

“, you crazy witch,” the startled man jumps back, pure shock and panic on his face that conjure light-hearted chuckles out of you.

“I’ve been called way worse,” you shrug nonchalantly because these words have long lost their meaning to you. Humans and their stupid habit of calling you and your kind names.

It all comes down to a pause. It starts with silence, the woods inhaling the essence of life present and everything stands still. No chilly wind, no leaves rumbling, no whispers of forgotten spirits. You feel goosebumps forming on your forearms while the man in front of you doesn’t seem to notice the change. Oh how stupid of him to be so careless and naive. These forests are not for magicless beings like him.

Yet, only when everything else is muted around, this is the first time when you actually pay attention to his rigid pose, his slump shoulders, the hollow of his face and the circles around his eyes. He looks sad like the moon on those nights when it can be heard crying. Melancholy hugs him close like a cloak and the blood on his hands is not just from witches.

“She took my brother. I just want him back,” he mutters into the stillness, more to himself than you, but you hear him and can’t help but wonder:

“You must be pretty bad if you pissed off the Queen like that,” you snort not quite lady-like and then suddenly, it clicks: all that whispering among your fellow witches, the mourning that took over everything like dark clouds on the baby blue sky and the rumours about a man who did the impossible. “Oh don’t tell me! You were the one you killed the princess?”

At first you gasp, almost comically but then a snarky laughter bubbles up in you. It’s quite improper and tactless taken the circumstances but you have never been one to fawn upon the royal court of your kind. You have better things to deal with but look at how funnily the world works: intertwining your string of fate with the hunter’s who is wanted by many in and outside of the witch-ruled areas too.

When the man himself doesn’t even bother to deny the accusation that can cost his head - or even better: his heart ripped out of his chest and planted on a silver planet as a gift to the Queen – you sigh. How can one be so stupid to think they can get away with that? Breaking into the Castle and killing the princess who has just turned eighteen and tasted the first bites of human flesh? A sprout of respect springs into life in your lungs silently that the man is even alive after pulling such an outrageous act. Killing witches for living is one thing but threatening and attacking the royal family? He has surely lost his sane mind.

“Kim Namjoon…” you taste the infamous name on your tongue sweetly, playing with the vowels and consonants like chords on an instruments. You have heard it whispered between the walls enough, it almost feels like a half-forgotten dream. Hearing them rolling off your tongue, the man looks up at you, surprised you heard of him and that’s when you throw a knife at him. Figuratively. “Your brother might not even be alive by now.”

It might sound cruel and insensitive but it’s the truth. Witches are born vengeful, revenge boiling up in their system and turning their blood black to spill. No wonder why the Queen took Namjoon’s younger brother. An eye for an eye, a sibling for a sibling. It’s simple math.

“I don’t care. I have to know,” the hunter insists, determination set in his eyes like gemstones in the cold harsh ground, deep enough to evolve into something beautiful. A purpose, that’s what it is for him, you realize and he won’t change his mind no matter what. Stubborn, stupid human running into the arms of death so carelessly. You almost feel sorry for him but you don’t. Not an ounce especially when he traps you between the tree branches and his body again, the puffs of his heavy breathing dancing on your skin.

“So you either help me or I kill you because you are no use for me otherwise. I guess they would pay hundreds for your pretty head only,” he says through gritted teeth, so cold you shiver.

“You will kill me anyway, don’t cha?” you look straight into his eyes, searching for the deepest pits of his soul but you only see different shades of black: anger, sorrow, pain.

He only needs you to help him get beyond the Castle Gates, to make sure he has a safe in and out but then he will get rid of you like he probably did with that traitor witch who helped him get in the first time. Otherwise he wouldn’t need you now.

“Okay… okay, I will help you,” you sigh theatrically as if you had the upper-hand in this situation even with your wrists tied and your body trapped.

Namjoon lets out a dry laugh.

“I didn’t really give you any other option.”

“But I can make your life hard… or easy. Your choice,” you are acting all charming now, fluttering lashes, sweet smiles but the hunter snorts dismissively mumbling something about being all bark but no bite.

Witches are basically elementals of nature, they can control most natural phenomenons and some are even gifted with special abilities like transforming into a certain animal. Any more than that requires years of practice so Namjoon isn’t really concerned about what a girl like you could do to him but like a wise man said once it’s better to be safe than sorry. He would rather not worry about you killing him in his sleep during your journey.

“Where’s the catch?” he furrows his eyebrows well aware of the tricks of cunning witches so he refuses to let his guards down.

“No catch, I only wish to walk without having to wear a leash, I’m not some animal for ’s sake,” you snarl raising your chin high, narrowing your eyes at him daring him to say no, to say something derogative so you can prove him how much it hurts when you really bite.

However, Kim Namjoon isn’t just another stupid huntsman and he knows better than to provoke somebody who bears magic. What a proud womenfolk you are, he muses and sighs.

“But if you are trying with anything…”

“Yeah-yeah, I know the drill: you kill me,” you grimace, voice dripping sarcasm as you watch his practiced fingers unloose a hook and let the metal fall to the floor. It leaves bloody spots behind where it rubbed against your skin but at least, you won’t feel the burn of it. Namjoon still ties your hands together but this time it’s a simple rope, one you can easily get rid of so you don’t complain, just roll your eyes and wait until he erases the witch trap from the ground around you.

The forest is watching, you can tell.

The deeper you go, the more aware you are. It’s warning you, urging you to turn back and leave if you only bring bad luck onto sacred ground. It’s getting angry, you can feel it in your bones, see in the leaves swirling and the weather changing. It’s cold, nearly frosty as dark falls upon you and Namjoon decides it’s time to pitch a camp for the night.

Neither of you talked much while walking except a few bitten back swear words and you don’t intend to change that, yet something has been bugging you for a while and you just have to blurt out:

“Why did you kill the princess? Was it a bet? A deal? Or just challenge?” you acquire further deep into the reasons of a mundane being’s life you have always found so fragile and pitiful. What could have possibly made him want to do such a stupid and dangerous thing?

It’s meant to be an innocent, curious question, however from the way Namjoon’s shoulders tense and the way he spits the words, it must be much more serious than a silly bet.

“You know nothing. Mind your own business,” he snaps at you and turns back to make a fire with the wood he collected from nearby.

You mock him behind his back by imitating his words back to him soundlessly and watch with your back to a tree and a raised eyebrow as he clumsily tries to light a fire. The air is dry, the wind is chilly and wild so the flame keeps flickering and he fails repeatedly. You don’t strain yourself to help him out; you don’t need the warmth anyway.

Your gaze shifts to the moon looming over you and listen to the secrets it tells you. Only a relieved sigh directs your attention back to the blazing fire in front of the hunter. You act like you don’t care but when he pulls out some canned food from his bag, your mouth waters. You haven’t eaten yet that day. However, you are more stubborn than to beg him for some left-overs so you stay quiet, nails marking crescents into your own palms.

It’s your stomach’s grumbling that gives you away at the smell of chicken soup boiling but it surprises you that the man cares at all. You’re prepping yourself for snarky remarks of your magic not helping you out now that you need it but instead the look on Namjoon’s face is simple disdain. He throws a can of vegetable tuna at your feet and you scoff.

“I am still not a dog for you to throw me a piece of bone.”

“Fine then leave it there, I don’t care,” Namjoon shrugs. Something dark flashing in his eyes and his nonchalant behaviour just makes your insides coil in fury.

“My hands,” you protest bringing your tied wrist in front of his face but you only get a headshake.

“Not a chance. Be creative,” he says firmly but you are not willing to dig your face into food like some animal would and you know exactly what can be a good exchange for this small favour.

“If you untie me, I can track your brother down and tell you if he’s still alive at all,” you are bargaining quite fairly in your opinion and the shift in the man’s eyes tells you that he’s also thinking about your offer.

“Can you really?” he suspiciously furrows his brows. “How can I know you won’t lie to me and take me into a trap?”

“You can’t but what place can possibly be more dangerous than the Castle itself where you were originally planning to go?” you remind him and he seems to agree as he gives you a short nod of approval.

“Okay, you can have it off for meals if you can tell me where he is. But if I catch you using any other magic, I will slice your throat,” his threat falls on deaf ears and you can’t fight the satisfied smile setting onto your face.

“Deal,” you consent to his condition and move your hands around a bit after he frees them. “I need something that was your brother’s and your blood. Since you are brothers, it will make the spell work more efficiently.”

Blood magic is one of a kind, really powerful and you are taken aback that the hunter doesn’t even protest or questions your motives. You could use his blood basically for everything, even to control him, yet he puts a little tiger pendant in your outstretched hand so carefully as if it was his most treasured property.

“If he’s dead, just tell me. Don’t play mind games with me,” he orders, or at least he means it as an order but it sounds more like a plea and when you nod, he nods back. You don’t ask what will happen to you if his brother really is dead and not because you’re afraid of the answer but because you know the Queen that much. She likes to play with her victims, to prolong the torment as much as she can.

“How much blood do you need?” Namjoon asks so driven by the need to know, so eager to get over with it, it leaves you a bit astonished.

“Just a drop is enough,” you tell him honest to the truth and watch with hungry eyes as he cuts his palm ever so slightly. You hear his sharp intake as carmine blood is pooling in his palm. “Alright, and now, hold your breath,” you give him a quick warning before putting your free hand palm-to-palm to his while your fist clenches around the medal in the other. Some spells need words, the powerful ones, but this is a fairly simple one, so you only have to concentrate, closing your eyes and finding that string in your mind that leads you to this boy.

Out of nowhere, the dark swallows you down.

You feel the dizziness overtaking you and your vision gets blurry as you search for his soul out there. You feel like running through the wildness bare-foot, the branches hurting your legs but you don’t stop, not until you reach your goal and then it’s getting faster and faster, an impossible speed you’re not able to keep up with and then it feels like falling and colliding into something solid like a wall or the rock bottom of your mind. When everything calms down, the darkness welcomes you and choking, you gasp for air.

“Hey, what is it? What’s happening?” the hunter shakes your shoulder desperately when after panting and mumbling to yourself, you just stop, your eyes popping open, facing the sky. Yet, there aren’t your eyes, there’s nothing from the universe he saw in them there anymore. They are completely white, lacking the rainbow or your iris and the black of your eye. No matter how hard he shakes you or what he tells you it doesn’t seem to reach you wherever you are. He can’t seem to pull you out of the trance that painted pure hurt all over your features. He has never seen anything like that before and it scares him.

“He’s alive but in a lot of pain,” you speak up, voice raw and hoarse, not really yours. The place you see is familiar like you have been there before. You look around but you realize you are not in your own body anymore. It’s a young boy, hands bloody and coughing. He shivers from the cold.

“He… is in a dungeon of some sort. It’s cold and wet. He can hear the water running. He…” your voice cracks at the sound of footsteps and the fear that rushes through the boy and then something pulls your stomach down and your lungs are hurting as if you have been kicked when the spell breaks.

You blink a few times before the haziness dissolves before your eyes and you can see again. The first thing that comes into your view is Namjoon’s worried face in front of you, so mature yet still has the lightest touch of boy-ish features that shouldn’t be possible for a coldblooded killer.

“He what?” he asks, almost begs to fill him out on details but you have nothing more, eyes back to just as normal as it was.

“I lost connection.”

“Then try again,” he demands spitefully, disappointed and desperate which makes you want to punch him or do something worse to him now that your hands are free but instead you just grit your teeth.

“I can’t. If I drain my powers with this I won’t have enough to get you there.”

Maybe it’s the hint in your voice or how confident you sound but the man before you falters a little.

“Do- do you know where he is?”

“Yeah. I know that place. It’s the canal beneath the Castle,” you tell him recalling why the dungeon was so familiar to you. The wet walls, the icy ground, the overbearing pain in the bones and the draining energy that keeps you there. No wonder why you know that place so well. You have been there too many times to count. “Where the Queen keeps the sacrifices.”

The night falls silence after that, both of you eating mindlessly, lost in your thoughts. When it’s time to sleep, the hunter ties your hands once again and you are ready to snicker but the look in his eyes, so out of it, makes you swallow back those words.

Each day you are getting closer to the Castle, crossing enchanted gardens, poisoned valleys on the way. Humans get easily distracted in these darker, magical parts of the forest, they tend to get lost and die out of starvation or dehydration as they are walking around in a circle. Some even go crazy in this labyrinth. That’s why Namjoon needs you: to be his compass, his eyes and ears in a place where nothing is as it seems. Lucky for him, the source of your own witch blood is calling you home to demean yourself before the Queen.

Most days are the same, silent and gloomy. But sometimes, like now, it’s full of laughter, at least on your part.

“It just pissed on me,” the hunter complains in a high voice just like a school girl would.

“You deserve it,” you tell him sharp-fanged as you watch him wiping off the bird poop off his coat in disgust.

“I swear these birds hate me,” he mutters and you almost laugh out loud. Well, he isn’t entirely wrong about that.

“Come on, don’t whine! They are just birds,” you tease and smile sweetly when a sparrow sits on your shoulder in such a calm manner no normal bird would. It even takes the fruits you offer from your hands.

Namjoon watches the scene unfold before him and suddenly, all his unfortunate encounters with the animals and why they picked up on him makes more sense. He doesn’t comments on it and scrunches his nose persuading himself that he is not whiny, not at all. But it can be irritating when a dozens of birds fly by just past his head or even poop on him. Nothing serious, just bad pranks as if they were merely projection of the chaotic emotions of the witch whose name he still doesn’t know of and neither cares for.

You walk further into the right direction, only one more day trip away from the Castle, when suddenly, passing by a calm river, your steps halt abruptly and frantic you turn back to grab Namjoon’s jacket’s collar.

“Let me go!” you scream at him but in that moment, he doesn’t hear the panic in your voice, nor feels the ground shaking beneath his boots or the clouds darkening the sky.

“What? No! You just pissed an hour ag…” he huffs and this time you actually slap him right in the face which successfully makes him shut up.

“Not that, you stupid human. Something is coming for us, can’t you tell? It will kill us both if you won’t untie me… like right now,” you only add the last words urgently when both of you hear the unearthly wailing coming from the dirty water.

“What the is this?” Namjoon gapes as the sounds of hooves clattering echoes through the area.

“A kelpie or maybe there’s more. And in case you can’t tell, I hate them,” you enlighten him as you both struggle to get that damn rope off around your wrists. “Oh come on!”

The hunter, finally understanding the seriousness of your situation, pulls out his jack-knife to cut the rope off of you while you look beneath his shoulders and see a horse-form emerging from the water.

“Hurry up,” you urge him a bit hysterically which doesn’t make you proud at all but you have quite a bit of history with these malevolent spirits and you don’t want the past to repeat itself. A kelpie’s bite takes months to heal and it hurts like hell in the meantime.

Before the knife could cut through the rope, you feel the full-force attack that sends both of you flying in the air before falling to the ground with a loud, painful thud. You stumble to your feet but the beautiful silver horse kicks you so hard, you can’t breathe for a second and there’s no way you can get a hold of its bridle to control it without the proper use of your hands.

Think, think, you groan, tasting grass and mud in your mouth as the kelpie keeps shoving you away with its body until you feel overly exhausted and your whole body is sore. It’s only then when this monster turns around setting its attention to the next victim being Namjoon with his knife pulled out ready for fight.

However, to his great surprise, the magnificent horse transforms into an overly gorgeous, completely woman right in front of him. His jaw drops and his grip on the weapon falters while the blonde beauty walks towards him so enthralling and captivating. He’s not against hurting the other gender, taken his job as a witch hunter, he also needs to be like that but there’s something about this woman that makes him speechless and unable to raise his hand to strike down when she steps in front of him.

“Brave human, you have come so far in the witches’ land. I haven’t seen a man in so long,” she whispers coyly, eyelashes flattering and with a soft hand, she caresses his face ever so gently.

“Who are you exactly?” Namjoon blurts out struggling to even speak with the lump forming in your throat.

“My name is Simona and I’m the spirit of this river, the guard of this border,” a spirit that seems to be absolutely shameless about the fact that she’s walking around , Namjoon almost chokes on his spit.

“What border?” he blinks not quite understanding what they are talking about or even why. It feels like every clearheaded and reasonable thoughts flew out of his mind leaving him dumbstruck and silly to stare at the stunning creature.

“The border of the Witch Queen’s Castle,” she answers with a lovely smile, his jawline with a feather-like touch and adds a bit suggestive: “Do you want to cross the river?”

“Yeah, I…” the man blurts out clearly remembering his purpose of reaching the Castle for some reason. There must have been a reason why but he seems to forget that, it must have been important though, if he had come such a long way. Yet, his answer is quite uncertain as he faintly recalls he had a companion on this journey. But who? Gosh, his memories are so foggy.

“Let me,” Simona smiles lovely as ever and takes his hand leading him into the dark waters of the river.

Watching Namjoon, a most likely skilled witch hunter being hypnotized by another spirit leaves you in disbelief and if it wasn’t a life or death situation you might laugh but your throat feels dry as you still struggle with your handcuffs. You might have promised him not to use your power when he doesn’t allow you explicitly but you won’t die because of his stupidity.

“Oh screw it,” you mutter giving up on stupid, useless mundane methods and gather enough willpower to burn the rope into ashes. The flames only tickle your skin, it doesn’t hurt at all, the fire you create never hurts you. However, kelpies are a whole different story.

You act on impulse, not giving space for changing your mind, pondering over options, you simply lunge forward shooting fireballs to the woman’s form waist-deep in the water already. She howls as it burns her skin and flashes her sharp teeth turning around to face you. Her pretty features turn into something hideous, monster-like but you are not scared, not at all.

“Come on! Come and get me,” you provoke her sending a bunch of sparrows at her to peck her skin until she doesn’t have any other choice than to transform back into a horse. Just what you wanted.

“Namjoon, get the bridle,” you shout at the man you stands with one leg into the water, still dazed and utterly confused. You sigh, it seems you have to do anything yourself, nothing new.

The horse gallops towards you so fast, you jump out of its way in the very last moment. You giggle out loud at the sound of the animal’s annoyed huff. You repeat the same trick twice but the next time when it attacks, you use your levitation skills to helps you get on its back and grab the handle.

“Never mess with a witch,” you growl as the horse calm under you, unwillingly but giving you full control. Just like stories tell: a kelpie’s only weak point is its bridle, and if you can catch that, you can control the creature on your own accord.

You trot slowly towards the shocked hunter and pat the horse’s . “Get up big boy before I leave your here.”

“What happened? I think I totally out,” he utters confused.

“The kelpie seduced you and she was going to lure you into the water to kill you,” you explain patiently because you know that the first meeting with a kelpie can be overwhelming. “Don’t worry, she means no danger anymore.”

Namjoon nods, trying to process what happened while he climbs up to sit on the horse behind you. His broad, solid chest presses against you back and his breath brushes your ear.

“Thanks. You could have just let me die,” you feel vibrations through his body as he speaks and when the horse crosses the river climbing out of the ditch, his strong hands grab on your waist to keep himself from falling.

“I’m not heartless, you know,” you bite the words tasting iron in your mouth. You would like to believe you really aren’t. Sure, you have killed before, you have hexed people, you didn’t care for what purposes others used your potions. This is what you are, a witch, and this is how you are expected to behave. Humans don’t expect more or anything better from you, they have already concluded that your kind is nothing but monsters. Why would you do anything to prove that? Why can’t you just live with it: not going against their prejudices, doing the monstrous things they will blame on you anyway?

The witch hunter hums from behind you as the horse sets a nice tempo towards the coldest and darkest part of the enchanted forest lacking natural sunlight filtered through the leaves.

"That’s why you are helping me?” he asks in a soft voice that almost pains your heart.

Trust, you recall the name of this stupid mundane thing, this mistake he’s making right now. People tend to see the good even in the devil himself if they showed they are capable of that. They foolishly think it will change anything but here’s the trick: the evil chooses to not be good. It’s a decision, not some aftermath of a series of events with unpredictable consequences. The evil chooses to not be good because they are selfish and always look out for themselves first.

“You didn’t give me much choice, remember?” you snort remembering his own words, using them against him. Yet, it doesn’t work the way you wanted. Namjoon doesn’t tease you about being so helpless completely at his mercy but contemplating on the chances.

“We both know you can easily find a way-out,” he says, so confident in his remark it surprises you. Yes, you really could have run away a long time ago if you really wanted to but chose not to because the outcome interests you and you have always been there for good drama.

However, it means Namjoon is well aware that you are a good liar and he sees right through it. He sees the ugliest parts of you, yet chooses to trust you with his life just because you saved him from an even meaner monster than yourself.

“Well maybe I don’t really fancy the court’s stupid traditions or the Queen herself for that matter,” you shrug nonchalantly, not caring whether he believes you or not. To avoid any further misunderstanding, you add: “You are not special, I would help anyone to piss off the Queen.”

It’s not necessarily true but he doesn’t need to know that. Even so you have that stinky feeling in the back of your throat telling you that he already knows you are lying, that there’s something else, something more behind your words, this confident facade you wear. Still, he doesn’t say anything, just gently holds onto your waist while you ride the kelpie through the forest.

The moon shines bright above by the time you reach a lake on the periphery of the ramous trees. The silver rays glimmer in the water as you sink down from the horse carefully tying its bridle to one of the strongest trees in your surroundings to make sure it doesn’t run away or attack you again. From here, if you look hard, you can see the grandiose tower of the Castle overlooking the whole neighbourhood. From here, it doesn’t take much to get there, and you know, by tomorrow noon, you will arrive.

"Wanna get cleaned first?” a rough voice jolts you out of your deep thought and when you turn around, you are faced with the messy haired, dirty handed but considerate eyed man. After thrown into the dirt, neither of you is the epitome of cleanness, although you’re sure you look worse than the hunter. After all, it was you who was kicked all over the ground.

“Uh… sure. Don’t look,” you clear your throat but only when you’ve checked everything, searching for traces of magic activity and that Namjoon is with his back to you, that’s when you begin to cast off your dirty clothes one by one: the corset over your ruined white shirt and leather pants tugged into worn boots.

You let out a pleased sigh as the fresh, clear water touches your bare skin and you have fun producing bubbles with your power in the river’s dead end when you’ve sunk neck-deep. You feel like a child playing in the pool at ease, forgotten about tomorrow when death can come for you.

“You can turn back,” you tell Namjoon quietly, admiring his gorgeous bodyline as he leans over a tree resting his head on his own shoulder. He looks taken aback by the offered opportunity but doesn’t make it a bigger deal than it is so he takes a hundred-eighty turn. However, what he sees, takes his breath away. You dark hair sprawling around you on the water’s surface like a grown completely embracing you. Only your shoulders and head stick out of the dark waters, everything else is hidden by the bubbling liquid yet the man can’t help but gulp, desperately and hopelessly trying to calm his suddenly racing heart.

What is this wicked game you are playing with his heart and mind? Why are being so gorgeous and irresistible even without trying? Why does he have to be attracted to you so much that he has to grab the tree for support? Why can’t he see you as the scratchy witch you were in his eyes only a few days ago? Why is it that when he looks at you, now he hears your giggles, the dulcet melody of your voice and sees deep secrets in chestnut brown eyes instead of the blood he used to associate with you? Maybe it’s because you are undeniable beautiful which is a siren skill of witches, so he swore he wouldn’t fall for that. And yet…

Yet, there’s something lurking in his heavy chest telling him you are different. But how so? He doesn’t quite know.

“What’s your name?” he takes a few tentative step towards the pool, towards you as you prop yourself on your elbows, resting your chin on the back of your hand, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

“My name?” you echo as if have never heard this question before which Namjoon finds ridiculous. You do have to have a name. He doesn’t want to call you ‘The Witch’ in his head anymore.

“Yeah. What do they call you?” he specifies as he sits down on a rock next to the water only two arm-lengths away from you.

For someone who is said to be one of the bests of his field and must have seen enough about witches to fill a book with his experience, but he doesn’t even know this simple thing. Maybe because he’s more like a ‘first act and then ask’ kind of hunter and he’s never had a chance before to ask the question.

“Don’t you know that witches’ names are powerful things? We don’t give them out to anyone,” you tell him truthfully. The thing about witches’ names, knowing the proper spell everybody could summon them whenever they wanted which could be quite inconvenient and you would like to avoid that.

“Oh,” he breathes as you find yourself wishing to hear him say your name even if you know it’s stupid.

So silence follows, a void lacking heartbeats, the music of the night and a confession stolen from your lips.

“You asked me why I killed the princess…” Namjoon starts, his gaze fixated on the silver reflection of the moon on the lake. The haunting grief and sadness in his eyes makes your throat close up so your interrupt him:

“And you were right: it’s none of my business. I don’t even really care about our royalty,” you rush to stop him from talking because you’re not sure you’re ready for the explanation. You suddenly don’t want him to tell you his reasons, fearing they would you feel things, giving your cold heart even more trouble.

“The coming-of-age ceremony. The first time when you spill blood. How was it?” he asks out of nowhere, catching you off guard with the intensity in his eyes as he looks over you.

Guilt trapped in your throat, you look away with piercing eyes. Murder poisons the mind, they say and this is exactly what you need. Witches are not necessarily born evil, but they can’t reach their full potential if they don’t kill. That’s why all of you have this morbid celebration on your 18th birthday.

“I… I don’t remember much.” The words stumble out of your mouth in a twisted way.

A lie.

You remember all too clearly. On wild nights you still have nightmares about it, about faceless people all screaming. The more you kill, the easier it is but it doesn’t make sleeping at night easier.

Namjoon nods seemingly believing you but the bitter edge remains in his voice as he continues:

“She did. She told me she enjoyed ripping my older brother’s heart out, that it smelled just as deliciously as he tasted,” he says and ah, so it has been a never-ending circle of bloodshed and revenge all along…

You want to say something but words die in your mouth. Sorry would taste sour on your tongue and like a white lie anyway. Killing is in your nature and you refuse to be sorry for what you are even if it means you are no better than the princess he killed.

So in the end you say nothing but it seems good enough. You stay as you are until you feel numb from the cold water. This time you don’t tell him to turn around when you emerge to the surface and you feel his eyes on you burning holes in your skin, deep to the core. You shiver and blame it on the chilly wind.

Sleep doesn’t come easy that night because lying down by the campfire, you realize he hasn’t even mentioned that you should have your hands tied together again.

The difference about the next morning isn’t the silence, isn’t the thick and tangible tension in the air between you, it’s the feeling of the beginning of the end. Something will definitely change for good once yoou reach the Castle’s gates. There will be no more reason to stick together, it’s an every man for himself situation after all and you shouldn’t have joined this rescue anyway.

Namjoon was right, you could have easily left, you could have continued on living your ordinary life as a town witch casting spells and brewing potions. You could have left him alone to dive into the canal searching for his kidnapped younger brother. You had literally no reason to stay but you did.

Why? The question stuck in the hunter’s mind without any reasonable answer. Do you pity him? Do you want your own revenge on the Queen? Do you… ? He keeps asking himself without end but the thing is: he doesn’t know you, not at all.

"Namjoon…” you call his name softly and your voice resonates in the long canal along with your footsteps’ wet splashes.

“Yeah?” he says non-committedly, not even looking back until the next ambiguous words leave your mouth:

“Remember when I warned you that you can’t tell apart the truth and the lies I tell?”

“Whaa-”

The moment the hunter turns to you, he’s blown in the face with some glittering substance that makes him dizzy in the head and wobbly on the legs. He slowly blinks as the grounds sinks under his feet.

His head is pounding, all pain and stars on a cement ceiling, when he opens his eyes next. He feels like his head is swimming, body heavy, almost drowning and it takes a while to realize his position seated on a chair, head fallen back staring at the chandelier. The candles’ lights are flickering but there’s something else strange about them although the man can’t really put his finger on it. Until the very moment he feels blood drops dripping down and covering his face in crimson.

Then it all clicks and the hysterical laughter wakes him up completely.

“Well-well, Kim Namjoon, back into my Castle, just like how I wanted,” the Queen breaks into a fit of giggles flashing her sharp teeth between her Bordeaux wine coloured lips. The ginger of her hair falls onto her pale shoulders unhidden by her flaunting dress and her nails are ruby red like the blood she spilled and the apple she holds in one hand.

They are in the throne room of the Witch Castle, made of bones and blood, and Namjoon clenches his hands into fists but can’t move any further. He’s immobile, can’t even nudge an inch as if he was glued to the chair but he knows he’s under a spell, one he isn’t able to break out of, not if the Queen herself casted it on him.

“You wanted to see me here? Then why dragging my brother into this?” he growled putting all his hatred into the spoken words while his insides wanted to fight, to break everything in this damn place.

“Oh but you know why very well. Don’t act silly. I just wanted you to suffer like I did,” the witch replies tongue darting out to wet her lips that are pulled into a knowing smirk next, one that sends shivers down the now powerless hunter’s back.

“You don’t have a heart to suffer like this,” he spits and gulps back his questions about Taehyung and the girl that brought him here. What happened to her? Did they get her too? Or… wait! Was she the one behind this all the way long?

“Then should I say: I don’t like losing?” the Queen chuckles, crossing her legs in an elegant and lazy manner like she had all the time in the world. Maybe she does or she’s just enjoying the show he’s putting up. “You have no idea how much fun I had watching your pathetic attempts of finding a witch stupid enough to betray me. What did you think when all of them rather killed themselves than to help you?”

“They fear you,” the hunter rasps remembering all the agony he saw on the witches’ faces that willingly set themselves on fire just so he can’t force them to this impossible heist. You were actually the first one he caught who went along with his plan after putting up a bit of a fight.

“Right they do. I despise traitors especially after what happened. But you were so cute trying and not giving up, I sent somebody to lead you here, so we can finally meet.”

“Why didn’t you just come to meet me then? Why all the fuss about it?” Namjoon grunts, arms hurting from the force he puts into moving them without any result.

The Queen is madness itself as she claps her hands dramatically.

“Oh honey but I loved the show! Watching you falling in love with one of my kind, oh I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

The forest has eyes and ears, villagers warned him before he set a foot onto the unholy ground of the off-spring of seven devils, the Kingdom of Witches.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” the man mumbles, throat dry and lips chapped but the quickening in his heartbeat gives him away. You can’t lie to a witch. They are the best liars out there, they will know as soon as you open your mouth to speak.

“Ah of course, you don’t,” the Queen shakes her head kindly like an elementary teacher would react to a child’s naive answer. However, the lovely smile just like the sparks in her eyes disappear in a blink of an eye and dark shadows arise on the wall as the royal witch steps down from her throne. Her pupils are blown black with intent and her approaching steps are rigid as the coldest winter while a beautiful dagger with gilded grip forms in her hands.

“You have called, your Majesty?”

A door suddenly opens before she could make her way in front of Namjoon and his head falls forward at the familiar voice. He can’t believe his ears though, you of all people calling the Queen so formally, so polite? Where is the girl from the woods who said she didn’t care about their royals?

“Yes, I did. Bring the boy, too,” the elder witch commands with a knowing grin and the hunter’s heart clenches at the sight of his baby brother with ugly bruises over his face, teeth marks on his neck and bloodspots all over his torn, white shirt.

“Taehyung!” He cries out but his sibling doesn’t pay him much attention, he probably doesn’t even hear him or he thinks it’s another just hallucination, a mind game of these witches. He seems overly fatigue as he rests most of his weight on you next to him. Namjoon is getting angrier every minute, thinking about your betrayal and what your kind had done to his brother. And maybe this is exactly what the Queen craved.

“I have a proposal for you, little hunter, and I’m very, very curious of your decision,” she whispers in a voice like silk and velvet as she places the knife into the man’s awaiting hands. Then she steps behind his chair, her fingers playing on his tense, sore shoulders, her tongue drawing a wet slide across his neck and her teeth tugging at his earlobe. “Kill her and I set your brother free. You two can walk away unharmed.”

“What? We haven’t agreed on this,” you shriek your ears catching onto the muttered words wide-eyed. You haven’t put up with all the trouble for this. “You told me if I bring him here, all charges against my family will be dropped.”

A handful of rebels, that’s your family, a few of them sitting down, in the canal cells waiting for their deathbed. You are their only hope and the solemn reason why you are doing this is to get them out of the trouble they caused. But looking face-to-face with death in the form of Kim Namjoon isn’t something you planned. Sure, you were ready for a cocky witch hunter with a desire to kill anything like you but being a freaking dartboard in the throne room is a whole other story. You didn’t sign up for this.

“And it will be done. However, we never discussed anything about your well-being,” the Queen answers in a honeyed voice, too sweet, too fake. You are just about to drop Taehyung’s faint body and run for your life because you can’t fight both the Witch Queen and a witch hunter but the crazy royal freezes you at your place with an elegant wave of her hand.  "Ah-ah, nope. Don’t do anything stupid.“

You feel her magic draining yours making it absolutely impossible to fight back. You can only press your lips into a straight line and wait for your destiny to come and get you.

"Why are you hesitating, little hunter? Isn’t she just another one on your long list? Kill her,” the Queen provokes Namjoon nudging him out of his seat and you watch in fear mixed with awe as he’s approaching you with confident steps and an iron dagger in his right hand. His expression is unreadable but the way he tightens his hold around the weapon tells it all. He’s mad, he has every right but you can’t tear your gaze apart from him.

“So it was all a set-up, a plan to lure me here while I thought it’s my doing?” he asks coldly, looking straight into your dark eyes and his words are daggers the just hit the bullseye of the target.

“Sorry,” you mumble the only thing you can think of and even this taste like acid in your mouth.

“Yeah, me too,“ Namjoon simply sighs when he stops merely a step away from you. He spares a glance at his almost unconscious brother and then raises the knife face-level ready to strike.

The next thing you know is falling.

The pain only registers when your knees hit the granite ground, hard.

You watch with mouth open as the dagger thrown by Namjoon sinks deep in the Queen’s chest, burning her skin, making her scream. The shock of the attack makes her lose the intensity and control over her power and you feel your limbs moving again. The Queen is screaming and you can no longer tell apart her hysterical laughs and painful sobs as she tears the knife out of her burnt skin. The whole room shakes by her rage and you don’t hesitate to shove her against a wall with your will-power before she could do anything else.

The Queen is supposed to be the strongest out of all witches but she has her weaknesses: she’s arrogant, she thinks she’s better than anybody and she doesn’t like to share her victory hence the empty throne room except her, two hunters and a rebel girls. Too bad that the chances are not on her sides now.

"I will kill you all,” she sneers bleeding black onto the carpet crawling towards you and Namjoon cries out and doubles over as if he was in pain. It’s all in his mind but you know that’s the hardest to fight.

“Try better, ,” you snap at her sending a wildfire her way but to your surprise she blocks it easily. You expected her to be weakened more but the change of plans has you gulping nervously as she shoots shurikens at you. Luckily only one of them scrapes your arm leaving a sharp burn behind but the rest of the weapons stand still in the wall. You levitate them back to her at the same time Namjoon succeeds in overcoming the manipulation and stabs the Queen from behind, right in the heart or at least where it’s supposed to be.

You watch her crumbling onto the floor, rattling, eyes rolling back until nothing but dust is left behind and gasping you fall to the ground.

“Are you alright?” the hunter rushes towards you, squatting before you, taking your face into his hands so gentle like you were made of the finest porcelain. The worry in his eyes and the cut on his face makes you feel unworthy of such a special treatment. No matter how lunatic the Queen was, she was right about one thing: you are just another witch. What makes you so different in Namjoon’s eyes?

“Yeah I’m…” you reply but the word ’fine’ is stuck in your throat and instead blood bubbles up from your mouth weeping down to the dirty floor as you feel your lungs collapse in your chest and it burns, the sudden lack of oxygen. The darkness dotted with white spots envelopes you and you can’t breathe.

“Tae, no!”

You hear Namjoon shouting but it all happens so fast. The iron pierced through your cold, old heart and as soon as the dagger is pulled out, your body is wearing away. Just like all witches, who lived longer than they deserve, do.

Taehyung, who is standing behind your lifeless remains, grey ashes, with the deadly weapon still in his hands and blood and sweat all over his clothes, blinks in confusion.

“She’s just a witch.”

“No, she…” Namjoon opens his mouth to speak, too shocked from the sudden turns of events but he can’t. How could he explain this to Taehyung? That you were so much more than just another evil witch of the town? “I didn’t even know her name.”

It’s sad, aching like the grief he shouldn’t feel but he doesn’t let it weight him down. He hauls Taehyung into his arms in a tight hug, glad he found him alive but they both know they have to go before other witches arrive and discover the mess they made.

As they flee, Namjoon fights the urge to turn back, conquering the useless hope of seeing you alive and he refuses to shed tears for the girl who saved his life in more than one sense.

Three months later

It’s been a while since the last time Namjoon walked around so freely in a forest. But this one is nothing like back there under the gloomy sky surrounding the pits of Hell. This one is calm, cheerful, the birds are chirping and squirrels run up and down the trees. This one is far and far away from that dark place he used to know as his home and now he’s building a new one here. He’s trying to lead a normal life, taking his brother to university every day and working in a bookstore, warning children who are fascinated by fantasy novels that those stories might turn out to be real so better be careful.

There’s nobody around, just him yet Namjoon doesn’t feel alone. It’s that phantom feeling of being watched but for once, it’s not creeping him out, he rather welcomes the odd sensation. He sits down on a bench covered by autumn leaves with a book in his lap and looking up he sees the sparrows that follow him everywhere, settling down on a tree. He smiles fondly at the tiny birds and turns back to his reading about a love that never happened.