"Witches are born cursed and hunted."
Taika knew this better than anyone else.
At least... she had learned it the hard way.
In this world, magic was blasphemy. Sorcerers, witches, wizards, necromancers — all fell under the same cruel law. No exceptions. None that she knew.
Fifteen years ago, the Great Hunt had scorched Thalnora. Taika remembered it all — the heat of fire biting her skin, the screams and chaos in the streets, the suffocating smoke that made her eyes water. And her mother's voice, trembling yet determined, echoing in her memory.
"Run, my child. To the forest you will go. You shall find a cottage and hide until I call your name. Do you understand?"
"Yes, mother."
Sunlight streamed through the windows, and the birds began chirping, signaling it was time to feed her tabby cat, Villy.
She hopped off the couch and called, "Villy! Where are you, Villy? Are you sleeping in the hearth again?"
Villy yawned and stretched lazily from the hearth, his black fur glinting in the morning sun. Taika smiled softly, bending to fill his bowl with water steeped with catnip. The cat purred as he lapped, nudging her hand with his tiny head.
She leaned back against the counter, glancing around the cottage. Herb jars lined the shelves, dried flowers hung from the beams, and a half-finished potion bubbled gently on the cauldron.
Today, however, she needed more than the herbs in her pantry. A glance at her spellbook reminded her of the missing ingredients: rare roots and petals, some only found in the town market — or worse, the royal gardens.
Taika sighed and retrieved her cloak from its hook. She rolled the fabric in her hands, then uncorked a small vial, tilting a drop of the changing-appearance potion onto her tongue.
Warmth spread through her, and her reflection in the window shifted — copper hair faded into brown, freckles blurred, her face smoothed into something unremarkable. Perfectly ordinary.
Except for her eyes.
Such blue eyes were rare in this kingdom, moreover, she could be mistaken for a royal.
Or a witch.
Hopefully, people wouldn't even spare a glance at her. She would be fine.
The forest awaited beyond the cottage door. Normally, she would have teleported, but today she wanted to save her energy for more important matters. The townsfolk don't pay much attention to her anyways since they have their own business to attend to.
She stepped outside.
The air was crisp, carrying the scent of moss and wet earth. A rustle in the underbrush made her pause, hand brushing the side of her cloak.
A bear emerged, massive and silent, yet it did not charge. Its dark eyes seemed to study her, curious rather than hostile.
"Morning," she whispered, and the bear gave a low grunt in response before turning back into the trees. Taika shook her head, smiling faintly.
Of all things, a bear felt safer than most townspeople.
The path to town wound through sunlight-dappled trees and over gurgling streams. Birds sang, and the occasional squirrel paused to watch her, unafraid.
She felt... normal, if only briefly.
When she finally reached the edge of the town, the market's noise hit her like a wall — the clatter of cartwheels, merchants shouting prices, children squealing.
Taika hunched her shoulders, ducking beneath the bustle, listening carefully for threats. Whispers of the upcoming masquerade drifted on the air — one merchant complaining about preparations, another laughing about a bride selection for the prince.
She paid them no mind. Royal balls were for humans. Princes were for humans. Taika is not a human — at least, not ordinary.
She stepped into the herbal store, the warm scent of dried herbs and earthy roots wrapping around her.
Placing twenty shillings on the counter, she whispered, "A sprig of valenthorns, please. And a small sachet of ground jewelmith."
The herbalist's eyes lingered on her briefly before taking the coins. "Quite the choice for herbs," he said with a chuckle. "And what are they for this time?"
"Experimenting," Taika replied bluntly. "I'm making medicines. That's all."
He shook his head with an amused smile. "Peculiar. Girls your age should be learning class and arts, not tinkering with herbs."
She smiled politely, though a flicker of relief passed through her.
He didn't seem to suspect her.
After gathering the herbs, he placed them into a small paper bag.
"Good luck with your experiments. Let me know if you manage to make something. I could give you tips."
"Thank you, sir. I'll keep you informed," Taika said as she stepped back into the sunlight.
Once outside the shop, the sun felt higher, casting warm light over the bustling market. Merchants shouted their wares, children chased each other between stalls, and the scent of fresh bread and spices mingled with the tang of sweat and smoke from the street fires.
She moved quietly, careful to keep her head down. Even disguised, humans could be unpredictable — and witches were not welcome in any form.
A sudden commotion drew her attention. A group of rough-looking youths were shoving and shouting at one another in the center of the square. A purse had fallen to the cobblestones, and one boy was trying to snatch it before the other could. Voices grew louder, angry shouts echoing off the surrounding buildings.
Taika paused, instincts stirring. Part of her wanted to turn away; trouble was never hers to solve. But another part — a whisper from memory — made her stop.
She stepped closer, careful to remain unnoticed, and watched. One boy swung a fist. Another retaliated. A cart tipped over, spilling apples onto the street. Taika's stomach twisted at the chaos.
For a moment, she remembered her own childhood — the desperate scramble for scraps, the cold nights hiding from guards, the fear that never left her even after the Great Hunt.
The scene in the street was small, petty — but it reminded her of the world's cruelty, the way humans turned on each other when survival was at stake.
She exhaled softly and stepped back.
Not today.
Taika slipped through the crowd, moving toward the edge of the square and the forest path beyond. Behind her, the scuffle continued, voices raised in anger, a cart rolling onto its side with a crash.
She allowed herself a brief glance, silently hoping no one would be hurt, and focused on her path home.
By the time she reached the quiet road that led back to the forest, her heartbeat had slowed. The herbs in her bag felt heavier now.
The forest swallowed her quickly, the noise of the market fading behind the trees. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, painting dappled patterns on the soft path beneath her feet.
Taika's breathing slowed, her steps light and careful. The paper bag of herbs rested securely against her side, a small victory in an ordinary, dangerous day.
By the time she reached the familiar clearing where her cottage stood, she paused to take it all in — the worn wooden door, the stone chimney with curling smoke, the garden where her herbs grew in neat rows.
Everything was quiet, just as she liked it. Solitude, at least for now, welcomed her like an old friend.
She set the herbs on the counter, unwrapping them carefully. Valenthorns, jewelmith, and the other rare roots and petals — each one a promise, a small piece of the magic she could still control in a world that hated her kind.
The cauldron from last night still bubbled faintly, the remnants of a potion she had left simmering.
Taika knelt beside it, stirring slowly, watching the liquid swirl. It was a soothing motion, grounding her after the chaos of the town. Her thoughts wandered, as they always did, between the past and the present.
Her mind returned to the street fight. The thieves had been careless, foolish — but harmless. Yet the memory stirred an ache deep inside her — a reminder that survival often required hard choices, and that the world was rarely fair.
That ache, she knew, would follow her until the day she died.
She set the ingredients beside the cauldron, preparing for a new potion — one that would help her in small, practical ways.
She needed a cleansing draught for her floors, a mild potion to speed plant growth, and a charm to help her keep her appearance hidden while she walked through the human world.
And yet, despite her carefulness, a small, reluctant thought crept in.
The masquerade ball. Tomorrow night.
She looked at her mother's green, deer-shaped necklace on the counter. It was the only beautiful thing she owned — far too fine for a cottage, but perfect for a masquerade.
She'd only hoped that none of the ingredients for her new potions resided only in the royal gardens.
For now, though, she would focus on what she could control — the cauldron, the herbs, her magic, and her solitude.
Taika stirred the potion once more and set the flame to a low simmer.