The Witch’s Desperate Devotion

“Madam, your rations have arrived. As you requested, it’s three weeks’ worth…”

“Leave them at the door.”

Ever since the master’s villa was emptied, Hillburg Manor had remained in a state of desolate abandonment.

The gardens lay untended, and yellowed dead leaves and vines had almost entirely obscured the entrance to the root cellar.

Were it not for the occasional clearing by the servants when delivering supplies, the entire cellar would likely have been sealed shut by the rampant growth of wild herbs and weeds.

On the other side of the cellar door, within the murky depths, a noxious stench permeated the air, a consequence of prolonged habitation and poor ventilation.

The atmosphere hung heavy with moisture.

Thick layers of mold carpeted every visible surface—the walls, the wooden implements, and the earthen floor beneath.

In the innermost corner, bizarre fungi even sprouted forth.

Within this grim environment, a slender young woman huddled, day after day, living a life devoid of sunlight.

Kaelan had lost all track of how long she had been confined below.

She had vowed not to take a single step outside the root cellar until she possessed the crown.

Yet, as it now appeared, her refuge here was nothing more than an act of evasion.

“I… I can’t do anything at all…”

Before the Olavi Empire’s genesis, the Truth Assembly had existed as a shadowy organization that once held sway over the entire continent.

Its witches had formulated magical covenants, exchanged knowledge, and diligently studied both magic and alchemy.

They advocated for spellcasters to collaborate harmoniously, striving towards a collective ideal.

An ideal?

More accurately, it was merely a pretext for seizing power.

Following the Empire’s establishment and the subsequent promulgation of the anti-magic decree, the Truth Assembly had retreated into clandestine operations.

Now, these remnants of an ancient order of witches had reconvened, plotting to dismantle the crumbling Empire.

Their ultimate goal was to devour the Empire’s remains, consolidate the vast majority of power, and replace imperial rule with a magocratic system, thereby founding a magical dominion.

The Truth Assembly garnered most of its support from anti-imperial liberals, particularly in cities like Vero.

There, they effortlessly drew in academics, enlightened nobles, and numerous affluent citizens.

These foolish adherents were either swayed by the witches’ wealth and allure or deluded themselves into believing that any endeavor to overthrow a corrupt empire must inherently be righteous.

In truth, however, it amounted to little more than exchanging the worship of an emperor for the worship of witches, replacing ‘superior’ imperial bloodlines with elven blood imbued with magical affinity.

Ultimately, nothing would truly change.

It was a political game, one that was utterly tedious and profoundly foolish.

Kaelan held no interest in such political games.

After she had fulfilled her mission of vengeance for her homeland, every day of her existence had been dedicated to the pursuit of pleasure.

She practiced extremely brutal dark magic, reveling in the control and torment of others’ minds.

Satisfying her desires through slaughter, intrigue, and destruction was enough for her.

She craved no power, for the ever-spreading magical plague would eventually claim everything.

When the plague had consumed the entire world, and she herself grew weary of it all, she was content to let it take her sordid life.

Such was Kaelan’s conviction, until her encounter with Saranya prompted her to intervene in Vero’s fate.

Though her own demise in the magical plague would not have troubled her, she could not bear to lose her perfect little Aya.

Thus, she intended to establish a sanctuary in Vero, a haven resilient against the magical plague, a paradise exclusively for her and Saranya.

In Kaelan’s grand scheme, the Truth Assembly had never factored into her considerations.

She had never anticipated that these power-hungry witches, so obsessed with vying for influence, would now turn their sights upon her.

‘Perhaps the Assembly didn’t merely view her as a thorn in their side,’ she mused, ‘but rather resented her bond with Saranya.’

After all, Saranya’s legitimate claim to imperial power, coupled with Kaelan’s formidable magical abilities, posed a sufficient threat to any politically ambitious organization within the Empire.

Her massacre of all the witches sent by the Assembly to the Tidal Mirror Hall had undoubtedly provoked the Truth Assembly, which now had its gaze fixed on her.

At such a time, she absolutely could not continue to parade openly, especially returning to Saranya’s side, as that would only endanger her beloved.

Kaelan had to make every effort to conceal her whereabouts, or at the very least, appear to do so.

She needed to feign fear before the Assembly, to cower in the gutters like a common rat, thereby proving she harbored neither political ambition nor any desire to infringe upon their interests.

In doing so, she would cease to be a threat to the Truth Assembly.

Given their apprehension of her power, and their fear of her lashing out if cornered, they would likely refrain from further confrontation, ensuring Saranya’s safety.

She knew this was an act of surrender, profoundly humiliating, but she was left with no other recourse.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she thought. ‘As long as little Aya is safe, no humiliation is too great to endure…’

The immediate priority was to quickly find a way to expel the demonic energy from her body, obtain the Crown of Domination, and alleviate Aya’s suffering.

After that… after that, she and Aya would flee together, starting anew in a different city.

With so many places in the world, they were bound to find a sanctuary for themselves.

“Cough… next time, I’ll try increasing the dosage… cough cough…”

Buying medicine, brewing medicine, consuming medicine—these three actions had become her relentless cycle during this period of utter darkness.

She needed to hasten her progress, for she knew not how much longer her frail body could endure.

At the door, the female servant’s voice echoed once more, tinged with a hint of concern:

“Madam, you haven’t seen the sun in such a long time. If this continues—”

“Get out!”

“Yes, Madam…”

The servant’s footsteps gradually faded into the distance.

Kaelan raised a hand, pulling a few scraps of fabric over her shoulders to cover her pallid skin.

She crawled out from a heap of mildewed bedding, her clothes tattered and torn, and groped her way towards the cellar door.

Her hunger had become unbearable; she intended to retrieve the food left outside the door.

“Clink.”

“Clink.”

Having taken but a few steps, Kaelan suddenly heard the distinct clanking of metal emanating from her own body.

“Oh…”

As if struck by a sudden memory, she reached out in the oppressive darkness, her hand moving towards a remembered direction.

Softly, in Elvish, she uttered the words ‘fire, flame’.

A tiny flame flickered to life from her fingertips.

The meager glimmer was enough to make her squint, and she extended her arm to light a candle before her.

The candlelight wavered, illuminating a full-length mirror nearby.

The slender flame cast a distorted reflection upon the mold-covered surface, and Kaelan’s gaze shifted, falling upon her own image in the glass, a flicker of entrancement in her eyes.

In the grimy mirror, the young woman stood askew, her tattered rags barely covering her body.

Large patches of sallow, lifeless skin were exposed, making her feel somewhat grotesque.

Around the girl’s neck was fastened a dark red leather collar.

A delicate chain dangled from its metal ring, crisscrossing her pale, rib-defined torso before finally resting at her waist, swaying gently with her movements.

“Clink-clank.”

A spark of desire ignited in Kaelan’s eyes as she reached out to tug at the chain around her neck.

Feeling the cold touch of the iron ring against her skin, she leaned forward towards the mirror, placing one hand on its surface, her fingers meeting those of the girl’s reflection.

“Master…”

Her arm, resting on the mirror’s surface, slowly slid away as Kaelan gently knelt.

Pulling at her collar, she shuffled forward on her knees, imagining herself at the reflection’s side, softly rubbing her head against its leg.

Pressing herself tightly against the cold mirror, she strained to imagine its flat, hard surface as something else entirely.

It wasn’t enough.

Kaelan recited another incantation, projecting Saranya’s image within her mind.

She had intended to envision Saranya nuzzling at her feet, submissive and dazed, yet inexplicably, her mind conjured a scene of Saranya seizing her by the throat, her palm striking Kaelan’s body with sharp slaps.

To her surprise, this erroneous projection unexpectedly aroused her.

She writhed, her small hand lingering for a moment on the twin peaks of her chest before her fingertips continued to slide down to her waist and abdomen.

“Master… Kaelan will always be your most obedient little s*ave…”

The intoxicated words spilled from her lips, but as she realized she had uttered the wrong name, Kaelan gazed at her own morbidly flushed face in the mirror, a faint, dazed smile gracing her features.

The Black Witch, who had devoured countless souls, the very Black Witch who struck terror into the hearts of all who dared challenge her, was now clad in chains, fully embodying the abject posture of a s*ave, playing the surrogate for her beloved within a decaying root cellar.

Kaelan pressed her neck, tightening the collar with such force that it choked her into a violent fit of coughing.

The agony brought a watery film to her red eyes, and her body trembled as she let out faint, choked sobs.

Her vision blurred to black, yet even after experiencing the sensation of suffocation, she remained unsatisfied.

She raised her hand and slapped herself, her beautiful face instantly swelling red.

“Master… little Aya… I’m sorry…”

With a persistent buzzing ringing in her ears, Kaelan finally exhausted her strength.

After a few convulsive tremors, she dropped the chain from her hand and leaned forward, resting against the mirror.

However, upon seeing the gaunt, red-eyed girl in the mirror, she frowned.

She did not wish to behold that face, which she found so repulsive.

The young witch parted her lips slightly, exhaling a breath that veiled the mirror in a thin mist.

Only when she watched that detested face gradually dissolve into a blurred, flesh-toned outline did a measure of satisfaction settle upon her.

Thus, she could indulge her imagination to its fullest extent…

Eat?

There was no rush to eat.

“Little Aya… we… let’s do it again…”

Kaelan’s lips curved into a bitter smile, and once more, she leaned close to the mirror, gently kissing the girl’s reflection.