"What do you gain by helping them?" Rosetta muttered, her silver hair catching the light, her eyes as deep as the ocean.
"Rosetta… think of it as our way of thanking them—for welcoming us into their village," Marian replied, her forest-green eyes calm beneath her golden hair.
"Welcoming us?" Rosetta hissed, her voice sharp. "They don't even know who we truly are. The moment they discover the truth, they'll be the first to cast us onto the stakes—burning us alive in the name of their god, Odysseus!"
"Rosetta!" Marian's glare was stern, though her voice trembled.
"Fine! Fine!" Rosetta snapped, throwing her hands up. "At least ask them for compensation! Your kindness won't fill our stomachs!" With that, she stormed out, leaving Marian behind with a heavy sigh. The elder sister's heart ached, yet she understood the bitterness that shaped Rosetta's words.
They were witches—hunted, despised, branded worse than criminals. For over two centuries, Marian and Rosetta had wandered together, though not bound by blood. Their bond had been forged in hiding, strengthened by pain.
They had once met others of their kind, but witches were fickle and treacherous; too many cursed even their own kin. Rossetta then met the pushover Marian being played and bossed around by other witch- Rosetta, who can't turn her back with injustice saved the naive witch and Marian afraid of being harrased by other witch decided to follow the masungit na Rossetta Since that day, the two lived as fugitives, concealing their true selves.
Once, they hid in a secluded cabin—until discovery forced them to flee. In time, they learned the cruel truth: such cabins were often the lairs of witches who experimented on human bodies. From then on, every lonely cottage was burned without question.
Years passed in shadows, until at last they stumbled upon a modest village, newly placed under a young baron's care. Marian, blessed with the gift of nature, found work as a gardener there, hoping for peace.
---
One afternoon, whispers fluttered through the village like restless birds.
"Do you think they're witches?"
"I heard Father and Mother arguing. They said the sisters bewitched him."
"My parents said the same…"
"But aren't witches supposed to look like old hags? With crooked noses? My brother swears it's true."
"I saw that in a book too!"
Behind the garden fence, children peeked in at Rosetta as she tended to Marian's plants. She rolled her eyes, their words pricking at her patience.
"I wish I were a witch," she muttered under her breath—loud enough for the children to hear. "Then I wouldn't have to work just to survive… and maybe I wouldn't be so weak and sickly."
A small boy stepped forward. "You're sick?"
Rosetta gave him a weary smile. "I've been sick since birth. My mother died bringing me into this world, and my father… he went to war fifteen years ago and never returned. Since then, my poor sister has carried the burden of caring for me."
"See? I told you—they don't look like witches at all!" another child hissed.
"Hey! Are you calling our new neighbors witches?!" a young man barked, glaring at the children. Frightened, they scattered like sparrows.
Rosetta chuckled softly at their retreat.
"I'm sorry for them," the young man said with an awkward smile. "It's been a while since we've had newcomers, and the adults keep feeding them such nonsense."
"It's fine," Rosetta replied kindly. "They're only children."
The man paused, taken aback by her gentle smile. His cheeks flushed. "I'm Frank," he stammered.
"Rosetta," she answered, her gaze brushing over his tall, sturdy frame—his long green hair tied in a half-bun, his brown eyes steady.
"I heard you're sick… Should you really be outside for this long?" Frank asked, concern softening his tone.
Rosetta chuckled faintly. "Now that you mention it, perhaps I should head back in." She offered him a polite nod before retreating toward the house.
Frank lingered, waiting until she safely stepped inside before he continued on his way.
---
"Being a friendly neighbor, hmm?" Marian teased with a sly smile.
Rosetta rolled her eyes, climbing toward her room on the second floor—when suddenly, her body convulsed. A searing agony ripped through her chest, as if thorns pierced her heart, fire burned her veins, and unseen hands wrung her insides.
She collapsed with a choked cry.
"Rosetta!" Marian's voice cracked with panic as she rushed to her sister's side.